janet maple 05 - it doesnt pay to be bad (2 page)

“Joyau Gallery,” said the driver, indicating that they had arrived.

“Thank you. I’ll get the door.” Dennis paid the driver. Then he got out of the car and opened the door on Janet’s side.

Janet took Dennis’s hand and stepped out on the pavement, taking in her surroundings. This section of town had narrow, cobblestoned streets with pavements barely wide enough for two people. “Let’s see, Joyau Gallery should be somewhere around—” she muttered, skimming the faded shop signs.

“Here—” Dennis pointed at a low-slung building right in front of them.

“I don’t know how I missed it.”

“That’s why you have me—to show you the way,” Dennis quipped.

“And I’m very grateful for that,” she teased him. “Look at all the beautiful paintings they have in the window. I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”

“I’m glad we came here.” Dennis nodded approvingly at the artwork in the display case. “It’ll be nice to bring home a memento of our honeymoon. Shall we?” Dennis pushed open the door. There was a chiming of doorbells as they walked inside, but the gallery appeared to be empty.

“Hello?” Janet called out, but no one answered. “I wonder if there’s anyone here?” she asked, looking at Dennis. “Do you think they might be closed for lunch?”

“The door was open. And I would think Pierre would’ve told us about it. The sales clerk is probably in the back. It’s not like this place is crawling with customers.”

Janet rubbed her hands in anticipation, eyeing the paintings on the walls. “I’d love to find a nice seascape—I know just the place to hang it in our living room.”

Dennis nodded. “Yes, dear, a nice seascape would be lovely. It’s just the finishing touch our apartment needs.”

Janet caught the sarcasm in his voice, but decided to let this one go, remembering all the renovation work Dennis had done for their new apartment. Just before they tied the knot, Dennis and Janet had both given up their studio rentals and moved into a one bedroom apartment that became available for sale in Janet’s building. Between the renovations and the moving in, it had been a lot of work, with Dennis doing most of the handiwork and Janet picking out the furniture and the decorations. She’d loved every minute of it, and even though the project was now complete, deep down she didn’t want it to end. After all, she was a newlywed and she reveled in all the activities that came with it, including picking out little knick-knacks to make their love nest as cozy as possible.

Janet looked up as an elderly sales clerk emerged from the back room.

“Bonjour,” the sales clerk greeted them. He was short and very thin, looking almost like a dried up twig. He wore a tailored suit that fit his slight frame almost like a glove, complete with a bowtie and patent leather shoes.

“Good afternoon.” Janet smiled. “Pardon me, but do you speak English?”

“Of course.” The sales clerk bowed slightly. “But I am very sorry to say that we are closed.”

“Closed?” Dennis frowned. “But our concierge told us you’d be open. Look, we’re leaving tomorrow. Couldn’t you make an exception?”

The sales clerk shook his head apologetically. “I am very sorry, but we are taking inventory. Normally we’d be open, but not today.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t make an exception?” Janet decided to give it a try. “You have such beautiful paintings here, and I was so hoping to buy a nice seascape for our apartment.”

The clerk’s eyes widened, a worried look coming over his face. “Did you say a seascape, Madame?”

“Yes.” Janet nodded. “A seascape for our new apartment.”

“Mon dieu! Un Americain looking for a seascape for the new apartment! Red shoes, navy dress—” he muttered. “Forgive my impertinence. This old head isn’t what it used to be.” He flung up his hands. “I believe I have exactly what you’re looking for. Let me make sure that we will not be interrupted.” He hurried to lock the front door. “I will be right back.”

Dennis frowned. “Now that’s funny. Do you think he’s maybe mistaking us for someone else?” he whispered, as the old man disappeared in the back of the store.

Janet shrugged. “The French are as peculiar as they’re charming. And even if he is, who cares? As long as the painting is in our price range, I want to see it.”

“There’s no harm in that,” Dennis agreed.

“Oh, relax. Pierre recommended this place.”

“The all-knowing Pierre who can’t possibly be wrong,” Dennis quipped. “At least when it comes to the price, leave the negotiations to me.”

“Sounds good to me.” Janet nudged Dennis as she saw the sales clerk hurrying back with a parcel under his arm.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” the clerk panted. “Perhaps you’d like to step into the back room with me?” He pointed at the entrance in the back of the store.

Dennis threw Janet an askance glance, but she ignored him. “Yes, thank you.” She nodded at the sales clerk. “You’re most kind,” she added and started to follow him into the back room.

“My name is Maurice by the way. Where are my manners?” He slapped himself on the forehead, as Dennis and Janet walked behind him.

“No worries.” Janet smiled. “My husband and I really appreciate your time.”

“Yes, of course. Your husband.” Maurice looked up at Dennis deferentially. “Again, I apologize for my confusion earlier.” They were now in the back storage room and he pulled the curtain shut behind them.

“Really, don’t worry about it,” Janet assured him.

“Now, I think you’re going to be very pleased.” Maurice started to unwrap the parcel. “Here it is,” he said, unveiling the painting.

“It’s lovely—exactly what we’re looking for.” The painting was simple but beautiful. The deep blue Mediterranean Sea and the quaint buildings clustered along the shoreline captured the spirit of Antibes perfectly. It was not an overly large painting—about twenty five inches diagonally, which was the perfect size. Not only was this painting beautiful, but so was the frame—intricately made and of excellent craftsmanship, it was almost as intriguing as the painting, if not more so. Janet could already picture the painting hanging over their living room couch—the perfect spot for the perfect memento of their honeymoon.

“I’m so glad you approve,” Maurice said quietly.

“And what is the price?” Janet asked, aware of Dennis squeezing her arm.

“A thousand euros,” Maurice said readily. “Normally, we sell for much higher prices, but since this is a new artist, we’ve reduced the price significantly. May this wonderful painting brighten your new home.”

“A thousand euros—” Dennis began, but this time Janet squeezed his arm.

“Excellent,” Janet said quickly. She’d glimpsed the price tags on the other paintings hanging in the gallery and they were all between two to five thousand euros, so considering that, Maurice’s offer was pretty good. Actually, it was strangely low, but when a bargain fell into one’s lap one didn’t refuse.

“Will you take a credit card?” Dennis asked.

“Errr— I’m not sure I understand—” Maurice seemed confused. “Cash would be better. Our credit card machine can be so tricky—I don’t quite know how to work it and my sales assistant isn’t here today.”

“I have some euros in my wallet I need to spend before we leave,” Janet said, pulling out her wallet and counting its contents. “I have five hundred euros,” she said to Dennis.

Dennis checked his wallet. “I have five hundred as well. Excellent.” He handed Maurice the cash. “Now if you could just wrap this up, we’ll be on our way.”

“My pleasure. Right away.” Maurice proceeded to wrap up the painting carefully. “Let me just get a carrying case for you. I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried into the back of the stock room.

A few moments later, Maurice returned with a portfolio carrying case for the painting.

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you,” Janet said. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Madame. Here you are.” Maurice handed her the case.

“Thank you.” Janet took the case from Maurice and gave it to Dennis.

“You’ve been most helpful,” Dennis said. “We’ll be on our way now.”

“Thank you.” Maurice bowed. “Always glad to be of service. I’ll walk you out.”

Maurice hurried to the front of the store and fumbled with the door locks to get them opened. “There. All set.” He stuck his head through the door and looked from left to right. “All clear,” he muttered. “Safe travels.”

“That was interesting,” Janet said as the gallery door closed behind them. She weaved her arm through Dennis’s as they strolled down the winding, cobblestone street.

“Bizarre is more like it,” Dennis countered. “Something about that man seemed off. Come to think of it, the whole business seemed funny.”

“Oh, stop being such a worrywart. He probably couldn’t understand what we wanted at first—you have to make allowances for the language barrier. The French are eccentric by nature. So what if he was a little strange? In the end we got a nice painting and at a bargain price.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call one thousand euros a bargain.”

“You know what I mean. You saw the price tags on some of the paintings in there.” Janet clutched Dennis’s arm and huddled closer to him—the street had gotten busier and there was scarcely enough space for passersby on the narrow pavement. “I’m going to research this artist some more once we get home. Who knows, by the time we’re ready to retire, this painting could be worth a pretty penny. Not that I would ever want to sell it,” Janet added quickly. “It’ll warm our souls as we grow old together,” she added dreamily, leaning on Dennis’s shoulder.

“Would you look at that—” Dennis muttered, turning around.

“What’s that?” Janet asked, still lost in her thoughts of domestic bliss.

“Did you see that woman?”

“What woman?”

“A woman just walked by us in such a rush she nearly bumped into me—she had on exactly the same outfit as yours. You didn’t notice that?”

“I’m not in the habit of looking at other women.” Janet disengaged her arm from Dennis’s and nudged him with her elbow. “She had exactly the same outfit as mine, huh?”

“Yes, a navy striped sun dress and red sandals. How bizarre is that?” Dennis turned halfway, craning his neck. “I think she just went into the gallery too. That is a strange coincidence—”

“That’s fascinating.” Janet yanked at his sleeve. “I’ll have you know, dear husband, that I don’t approve of you gawking at other women.”

A smile appeared on Dennis’s lips as he shook his head. “Gawking at other women? I wouldn’t dream of it, dear wife. Besides, you wear this dress so much better.”

Chapter 2

“This was a great trip,” Janet said, as she and Dennis took their seats by the bar stand in the airport business lounge. Their luggage had been checked in and they had been given their boarding passes. With less than an hour remaining until boarding, they decided to have a quick drink in the bar lounge.

“Yes it was.” Dennis agreed. He signaled to the bartender to give their order, “Two champagnes, please,” he asked and then turned his attention back to Janet. “But to be honest, I’m ready to go home. All that French food and wine can take a toll on you. And I miss Baxter. I wonder how Mrs. Chapman is fairing?” A retired librarian and former part time opera singer, Mrs. Chapman was Janet and Dennis’s very kind neighbor who adored the couple’s Jack Russell Terrier, Baxter, and agreed to babysit Baxter for the duration of their honeymoon.

“I miss Baxter too—I wish he was here with us. I bet he would’ve charmed everyone at the hotel. Mrs. Chapman emailed me the other day, saying that if we wanted to extend our stay, there’d be no problem on her part. She and Baxter are having a ball. I have to say, the idea sounds tempting—”

“Naw. Aren’t you curious to see what Ham has lined up for us?”

“We haven’t even boarded our plane and already you’re thinking about work. You’re a hopeless workaholic.”

“I thought you were going to say hopeless romantic.”

Janet wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you saying I’m not romantic?”

“You are—when you want to be.” She had to give Dennis his due—after agreeing on the destination with her, he’d planned all the details of their honeymoon by himself because he knew how much she disliked researching hotels and airlines and he wanted to make the trip special for her. “But you’re also a workaholic.”

“With a job as cool as ours, can you blame me?”

“Fine, I take it back,” she conceded under Dennis’s penetrating gaze. She had to agree that their job was pretty cool. As private investigators working for a private intelligence agency, Kirk & Associates, Janet and Dennis got to work on cases ranging from money laundering to international conspiracies. Their boss, Ham Kirk, used to be their boss at the Treasury Investigations Department, but then he struck out on his own and Janet and Dennis had been working for him ever since. The work was more exciting and the pay wasn’t bad either. A job like that came with long hours, but since they also happened to be madly in love, long hours weren’t a problem, especially when they were both assigned to the same case. Still, it had been nice to get away—one of the longest vacations the two of them had taken together in a long time.

“I’m amazed Ham didn’t call us even once during the entire honeymoon,” Dennis mused.

“Peter must’ve hit the ground running,” Janet referred to their mutual friend, Peter Laskin, who recently joined Kirk & Associates. Peter Laskin used to work with Janet and Dennis at the Treasury. After Ham’s departure, Peter had been promoted to Ham’s old position as the head of the department. Janet and Dennis frequently reached out to him for help with analytics on some of their tougher cases. Their last case had been both dangerous and difficult, and Peter had really come through, saving their behinds. Unfortunately, Peter’s boss at the Treasury wasn’t too thrilled about that and gave him an ultimatum—no more extracurricular activities with Kirk & Associates or his career at the Treasury would be over. Once Ham Kirk got wind of that, he put together a very generous offer for Peter Laskin to come onboard. The agency was getting so many cases that they really needed an extra hand.