Jil looked up at her.
“And of course she loved you. How could she not?”
Jil breathed out through rounded lips.
“Sometimes, a person’s past life is complicated. Sometimes, people make a real mess of things, Jil, and wiping the slate clean and starting over again is difficult, if not impossible. But that doesn’t mean they can’t love someone in their future. It just means they have to make compromises. Sometimes very difficult compromises.”
“Are you talking about Elise or you?” She gave her a small smile.
Jess ran her fingers through Jil’s hair and kissed her cheek. “Both.”
“I missed you so much,” Jil whispered. She linked her fingers through Jess’s.
“I did too.”
“Promise me we’re not going to do that again. No matter what happens between us—what problems come up—we’re going to have to find a way to talk them out. Because losing you a second time isn’t possible for me. I wouldn’t survive without you again. Hell, I don’t even want you to go home at night.”
Jess went to grab the boiling kettle and poured the water into the teapot. “My house is dragging me down anyway. I’ve been considering making a switch.”
Jil wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her flannel pajamas. “Really?”
As she brought the teapot to the table, Jess smiled. “Yeah. I think it’s time for a few changes.”
Jil’s phone pinged and she picked it up. A text from Morgan—the results of the student roster at the university had finally come in. A thrill of anticipation surged through her body. She sprang up to grab her laptop and opened the list Morgan had sent to her.
“What’s up?”
“Morgan’s sent me Elise’s student list. I’m about to track an art thief.”
Over five hundred names and faces, but she’d know her when she saw her. There. Four up from the bottom on the fifth page.
“There she is,” Jil whispered.
Jess looked over her shoulder. She took in a sharp breath. “That’s the artist I met at the Cracked Palette. Her name is Mila.”
*
“So you’re going to go in first, talk with her for a minute, then I’m going to join you, okay?”
Jess pursed her lips. “Do you think she’ll run?”
“She might. But I can see the street from the bathroom window. I might even have time to get a license plate or something.”
“I’m not that keen on her knowing where I live.”
“Of course not.” Jil grinned. “I’ve booked a hotel room for the occasion.”
At eight on the dot, a knock sounded on the hotel room door. Jil tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door, holding her breath as Jess went to answer.
“Thanks for coming,” Jess said.
“Interesting home you have.” Flirtation mixed with irony in Mila’s voice.
What is her game, exactly?
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that step yet.” Was Jess flirting back? Maybe Jil should have given her more credit.
“But you’re ready to meet me alone in a hotel room?”
Jil opened the door. “Not exactly alone,” she said quietly. She took in Mila’s long bouncy curls, her delicate nose. Without her strawberry blond wig, Jil probably wouldn’t have recognized her. She was a talented chameleon.
Mila’s eyes flashed. “I see.” She turned toward the door and reached it in two steps.
“I will find you again,” Jil called. “And I only want to talk. I’m not interested in having you arrested. Yet.”
Mila let her hands fall to her sides, the fight seeming to have gone out of her. “I guess I knew you’d find me eventually. Maybe I’m even a little glad about it. I didn’t like this whole business. Elise was a good person, and I cared about her.”
“You cared about her? Are you kidding me? You robbed her. Stole my heirlooms. Pulled a Catwoman in our home.” Jil’s voice rose and she struggled to keep her anger in check.
Mila snorted, and Jil glared at her. “I didn’t steal from her, Jil.”
“Well, you stole from me. My ring?”
“I gave it back, didn’t I?”
“You impersonated me.”
“Sorry. But when I couldn’t find the key to the safety deposit box, I had to try something else. I took it as a sign from the universe, being there when you found it. I should have known you’d keep it with you and it was useless to try to find it.”
“So that’s why you came back to the house after you came as Anastasia?”
“Yeah. I climbed in the window, but obviously I couldn’t arm the security code and close the window, so…”
“So you left it open and hoped I’d think I’d done it myself.”
“Exactly.”
“And you still didn’t find it.”
Mila sat down on a wing chair. “No. But you did.”
Jil shrugged. “I had home field advantage.”
“I thought it would be easy to get into the bank. Who would have thought Elise would have an antique box inside a safety deposit box?”
Jil smirked. “It doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“It shouldn’t surprise me either, really. Elise was savvy.”
Jil shot her a look. “So you admit to breaking into my house to find the key, but still insist you didn’t steal from her?”
“Yes.”
“You were all alone in my house in the middle of the night and didn’t think about taking anything else?”
Mila looked at her seriously. “I didn’t steal from her, Jil. She let me in. If I’d wanted something, I could have taken it any time.”
“So then why did you need to impersonate a St. Augustine aide?”
Mila exhaled. “Because I couldn’t come and go from her house as myself.”
Jil paused. Something about that made sense. “In case anyone was watching.”
“Yes.”
“Why bother to go to all that trouble?”
Mila tilted her head. “Because Elise was double-crossing a very dangerous man.”
“Who?”
“Someone she knew from when she was younger. Someone who makes his living as an art thief and would love to get his hands on someone who could replicate paintings the way I can.”
Jil exhaled. “I knew it.”
“Who?” Jess asked.
Mila and Jil answered at the same time: “Duncan McLeod.”
Mila sighed. “She found out about my ability to replicate during my first year of university. I was already a mature student by then, but I’d never been able to afford a proper art education—a theoretical one, anyway. But after I’d sold a few replicas, I decided to go—to see if I could make a living at selling my own work.”
“But you went back to forging—um, replicating?” Jess asked.
“It pays so much better than trying to eke out a living as an artist. Elise never approved of what I did with my skills, but she understood my talent. She helped keep me safe. Specifically, she told me to stay away from Duncan MacLeod. To never let him find out my name.”
“Because once he knew about your talents, he would exploit you,” Jil guessed.
“Exactly.”
“And that’s why she went to the trouble of having you impersonate an aide.”
“That’s right. But I also needed practice if we were going to pull off this heist. Impersonating Anastasia was our final test before—”
Jil held up her hands. “Hang on. A heist? Elise wasn’t a thief.” Anymore.
“No, but Duncan McLeod was. And to get back this painting he’d stolen, we had to beat him at his own game.”
Jil frowned. Of course. Who better to double-cross a pro than the woman who used to be his partner in crime?
Mila smiled. “I think Duncan would have been a hell of a lot worse if Elise hadn’t thwarted some of his more ambitious plans.”
“But why did he stay here where he knew she was watching? Why not move to New York—or hell, to Paris?”
“I think…wel
l, from what little she’s said…”
Jil tipped her head back. “Of course,” she whispered. “He was still in love with her.”
Mila nodded.
“I’m sorry. Are you saying that Elise and Duncan MacLeod were lovers?” Jess’s voice rose incredulously.
“They were young,” Jil said softly. “He was probably a very charismatic young man, and she was talented and ambitious…”
“How long have you known about this?” Jess turned to her.
“Not too long. Elise never talked about her past life much. And she never mentioned him by name at all. She just said she’d been in love once with a boy who wasn’t good for her. I didn’t know what she meant by that. But it makes sense when I think back. I always thought she’d inherited her love of art because of her father’s amazing collection, but of course romance had to have something to do with it.”
“You’d have to have a pretty compelling reason to steal a Monet you could never sell,” Mila said. “Although I have to say, it was pretty impressive.”
“You saw it?” Jil asked.
Mila smirked. “Who do you think replicated it for you?”
“For me?”
“Of course. You inherited it, didn’t you? Elise could hardly pass on the original, could she? And she knew you’d wonder where it went.”
Jil shook her head. “I wish she’d just told me the truth ages ago.”
“You weren’t supposed to know. You were supposed to inherit the house, the legitimate artifacts, my replica to keep as a memory, and go on with your life. But apparently, you’re too damn nosy for your own good.”
“I’m sorry. You’re angry with me? You don’t think that’s a little ironic?”
“You’re making things very difficult, that’s what I think. I was trying to do you a favor. A favor Elise asked me to do. And you just keep stepping on my toes.”
Jess stepped between them. “Why don’t we all take a breath? I think this is a lot for everyone to take in right now.” Her cool hand on Jil’s arm felt reassuring, comforting, but she couldn’t let her guard down yet.
“Why did you need to get into the safety deposit box anyway?”
“Because I was looking for a recording Elise made of a conversation she had with Duncan. I knew that if the police found it they would put Duncan away, yes, but I was afraid they would also make the connection to me. I couldn’t take the risk that she’d said something on that recording that could bring me down. I could be arrested for counterfeiting.”
“I thought you replicated,” Jil said sarcastically.
Mila shot her a look. “I have many talents, okay? I went to find it so I could destroy it.”
“I don’t understand why Elise would make that recording after everything she’d done to try to protect you.”
Mila gave her a quizzical look. “She was protecting me from MacLeod, yes, but she was also protecting you. My guess is that she made that recording as a fallback in case he didn’t keep his word.”
“His word about what?”
“The deal they made. I don’t know exactly what the deal was, but I do know she gave MacLeod that painting. That’s why I had to make the replica—to replace it.”
Jil took a deep breath. Her head hurt. She felt like she’d sidestepped into an alternate universe.
With a sigh, Mila crossed her legs. “Can I have a drink please, if we’re going to continue this?”
Jess moved to the side bar. “Any requests?” she asked wryly.
“I’m not particular.”
Jess grabbed a handful of minibar vodkas and a shaker.
“I’m sorry she never told you,” Mila said over the sound of clacking ice.
“Told me what? That she educated young counterfeiters?”
“Not on purpose. I was an exception. I came with a dark side. She didn’t create that.”
“But she took advantage of it, right? She knew what you could do.”
“She let me help her right a wrong. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“By robbing me of an original Monet?”
“For the last time, I didn’t steal it. The painting was switched before Elise died. And I made you a perfectly acceptable replica. I still don’t know how you figured out it wasn’t hers.”
“Wait a minute, you’re insulted? Isn’t that a little ironic?”
“I’m very good,” Mila said defensively.
Jil squinted. “You are. And honestly, if it had been any other painting in the house, I wouldn’t have noticed. But we have a history.”
“Yeah, you knocked it over. An original Monet!”
Jil’s stomach flipped. That painting was priceless. And yet, Elise had never even batted an eye about the damaged frame. Never told her to be more careful, or forbidden her to go near it. “Obviously, I didn’t mean to. And there’s one thing I still don’t understand. Elise was married—for a long time—to another man. She should have been rid of MacLeod years ago.”
“Sure. Except that he knew things about her past life that she didn’t want anyone to know—including you. It seems to me that she felt it was better to know what he was up to than to let him disappear.”
“And he blackmailed her right back, I think.”
“More like they had a mutual understanding.”
“So what changed?”
Jess cut in. “It seems to me that Duncan MacLeod is an impatient man. Maybe he got tired of having his wings clipped by Elise. She’d gone on and become a successful professor and artist. She inherited her father’s collection. She had talent.”
“And he was jealous?” Jil finished.
Mila shrugged. “Possibly. Or maybe he was too invested in his own line of work. Replicating really is an art, you know.”
“So she got on with her life, and he didn’t. And he resented her?”
“Maybe he did. Elise did say that as soon as she got sick, all bets were off.”
“How?”
“That’s when he planned the church heist.”
Jess murmured something, and Jil turned to look at her. “What?”
“That was how he dealt with his grief over losing her,” Jess said softly.
Mila looked at her. “I think so too.”
Jess smoothed her pants across her thighs, pushing the palms of her hands into the muscles at her knees. Jil closed her hand over Jess’s and squeezed. “You can go lie down if you want to.”
“I’m okay.” She smiled.
Mila sighed. “The sicker she got, the more brazen he got. Almost like he kept daring her to get better and stop him.”
Jil sat on the chaise at the end of the bed, her stomach clenching. “The church studio tour. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The Madonna. It had started to show signs of disintegration, so this tour would be the last time they’d agree to open the glass to display it for art viewers. Elise knew it would be a temptation for him, and sure enough, she found out he had a plan. That’s when she decided she had to take action. She had to beat him at his own game.”
“So she came to you for help making a replica of the Madonna?” Jil said. “That’s what you were doing at her house?”
“She couldn’t do it herself in the time she had left. She could help me, observe and critique, but she couldn’t do the work. So I did it. I studied the painting behind the glass. For hours, I’d sit there in the church, pretending to pray. I’m sure the priest thought I was considering taking vows or something.”
Jess frowned. “The Madonna at St. Patrick’s? I never heard about that theft.”
“Nope. It’s because nobody ever reported it. The church doesn’t even know it was stolen.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’m telling you, MacLeod was organized. He committed the theft in broad daylight. It took one minute and ten seconds. The last day of the tour, after everything fell quiet.”
“You timed it?”
Mila grinned. “It was pretty amazing to watch. Espec
ially knowing he had no idea.”
“No idea about what?” Jess asked.
“That we’d already stolen it.”
Jil sat on the bed. “Of course. You switched it on the first night.”
“We did. There are two perfect times to steal a painting: one, when the place is packed. The second, when the place is deserted. We knew he’d go for the deserted option, so we had to beat him. On the last night of the tour, MacLeod pulled his heist. He stole what they thought was the original Madonna—”
“But was actually your replica,” Jess finished.
“Exactly.” Mila grinned. “We watched them load the van and take off, then we bustled in with the original.”
“I don’t understand why she’d go to all this trouble,” Jess said. “Why not just go to the police if she knew he’d planned this robbery?”
Mila just looked at Jil.
“She couldn’t,” Jil said. “This was her final good-bye to him. One last dance.”
She remembered something she’d heard on the recording Elise had made of her conversation with MacLeod. “He thought she’d switched the paintings after he’d stolen it.”
Mila’s eyes crinkled. “But he stole the fake in the first place. I don’t think he’s ever figured it out.”
“No. But if he does…”
Mila’s face sobered. “I know. If he does, I’m in trouble. Right now he thinks Elise hired some team of thieves to switch the paintings at the dock. If he finds out we carried it off between us right under his nose…”
“You’d be invaluable to him with your dual skill set,” Jil said sardonically.
“Hey, I might have a few skills in that area, but I don’t use them often. Occasionally, I liberate paintings from their unrightful owners to their rightful ones. But I don’t want that to be my life. Especially after Elise has gone to the trouble of trying to keep me away from the guy.”
“He can’t force you,” Jil said.
Jess snorted. “I’m sure he has many persuasive techniques. Better to keep her safe.”
“Don’t worry,” Mila said. “Nic’s taking care of that.”
“Nic Fraser? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Chapter Thirty
Jil arrived at Beechgrove cemetery and followed the winding narrow path, originally built for horse and buggy, through the old part of the graveyard where headstones had been washed out and tilted by years of harsh weather and erosion.
Illicit Artifacts Page 19
