by Jack Lacey
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t ruffle too many feathers…’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘the benefactor’
Downtown Lexington. Early Evening.
We parked discreetly in a side-street then headed straight to the gallery, both of us seemingly as anxious as each other now we were finally getting close to Corrigan. I could see the rage in Nancy’s face too, and in the way she carried herself.
I just hoped she didn’t completely lose it when we got inside. She’s said that she held Corrigan personally responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life. The death of her husband, the death of her child and the lives of her friends who’d lived close to the mines and had suffered horrible illnesses. It was going to be intense...
‘You going to be alright in there?’ I asked again, concerned.
She looked at me with laser eyes
‘I told you I would, didn’t I?’
‘Just checking…Look, I need to find this girl, Nancy. Causing a commotion in there is going to blow everything wide open, you know that. You can kill him after I’ve found Olivia, and I’ll damned-well help you do it, okay?’
‘Sure,’ she replied curtly, teetering on heels that she obviously hadn’t worn since the college ball.
‘You look amazing by the way,’ I said trying to soften her edges.
‘Some of the sequins have fallen off the hem,’ she said looking down. ‘And these shoes don’t match the dress either. They’re a shade lighter.’
‘Look at me,’ I said laughing. ‘I’ve borrowed a suit from a friend of yours that is way too small, and that went out of fashion in the eighties. And as for my footwear...’
She stared down at the grey brogues and joined in the laughter.
‘You’re supposed to say, hey darling, it doesn’t matter, not go on about yourself.’
‘I was trying to make you feel better.’
‘Men…’ she said raising her eyebrows in exasperation, before walking on ahead.
When we both rounded the corner we saw a line of well-attired guests, queuing up patiently outside. The gallery looked a high-class establishment and probably as expensive on the inside as its elaborate façade.
Through the windows I could just make out waiters serving flutes of champagne and fancy snacks on silver platters, as Lexington’s glitterati wandered around admiring the artist’s latest works.
After a good ten minutes of shuffling, we finally edged into the glass lobby ourselves, passing a glamorous misty-eyed picture of the painter fixed to an enormous easel, informing us she called herself Reya Tolley, and that she was from Louisville, Kentucky.
‘Do you know what he looks like?’ I said in a whisper as we neared the main door.
‘Sure, I’ll point the bastard out as soon as I set eyes on him. But hey, I’m not sure we’re going to get that close. It’s ticketed…’
I clocked the couple ahead handing in some large gold invites to an assistant and tried to think of a plan.
‘Have you got your tickets please?’ the sharply-dressed girl demanded as we reached the desk.
‘No, we haven’t unfortunately. We left them at home...’ I replied, trying to sound genuine.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s strictly by invitation only. We really must see a ticket, unless you’re on Reya’s guest list.’
The young girl tilted her immaculate hair to one side as if confident she wasn’t going to get a positive response. I changed tact.
‘Look, we work for Hal Dickinson who’s been helping Reya out with some of the frames that got damaged. He said that it was okay to come along and represent him if we were passing...’
I felt Nancy’s hand tighten around mine as she squirmed. I hoped the guy wasn’t planning on coming himself, or worse, that he was already inside...
‘Well that might be the case, but…’ the assistant continued unsure.
A tall redhead with a sophisticated face interrupted her suddenly.
‘I did say to Hal that he could invite some friends. Please, come on in. You’re more than welcome. I’m Reya. You really saved the day with your expertise. Some of my frames were in a terrible state.’
‘Thank you, we really wanted to see your work close up again, Miss Tolley,’ I replied in a flash. ‘We love it...’
‘I’m flattered. Please enjoy yourselves. You must excuse me though…I have to do the rounds.’
As swiftly as she’d guided us in, she’d melted back into the admiring crowd. I looked at Nancy and she smiled back nervously.
‘What now?’
‘Let’s have a wander, see if we can pick up snippets of conversation about Corrigan, get a feel for what he’s really like,’ I whispered.
‘I know what he’s really like, Blake. He’s a megalomaniac and a murderer,’ Nancy growled, grabbing the glass of champagne being offered in front of her.
We worked our way around the large exhibition space, weaving our way through the excited guests who were now wedged between elaborate flower displays and rows of sizeable abstract paintings, their broad flashes of colour thoughtfully matching each stand of exotic blooms positioned next to them.
I scanned the room carefully then picked up a folded leaflet from a nearby table introducing Tolley works more fully. The entire exhibition had been entitled ‘Elements of Appalachia’ and was a new collection aimed at celebrating the region’s diverse landscape.
On a personal level, it revealed that she was fifty-two years old, from Louisville originally, but had spent her early years in Lexington and now lived most of her time in New York. She described her passion for the mountains and the diversity of nature and wildlife in her home state and how it had inspired her latest work.
‘What in the hell Corrigan sees in all this, god only knows,’ Nancy whispered over my shoulder, ‘he’s only interested in what’s underneath the damned mountains and her skirt probably...’
We worked our way along an aisle then mingled into a sizeable crowd buzzing with anticipation. People were beginning to gather between two main sections of artwork, in front of a small stage, where a couple of intense-looking musicians were playing classical guitars as if they waiting for something. Nancy nudged me.
‘That’s him.’
Nancy pointed discreetly at a small group of guests talking to some thickset guy, with wavy grey hair, who appeared to be holding court. I reached out for Nancy’s hand and edged nearer to the group, then felt hers grip mine tightly again.
‘You see, within the juxtaposition of colour I see a lot of the conflict that is inherent in Appalachia,’ one tall, well-spoken gentleman declared to the group.
Corrigan nodded politely, his suspicious blue eyes eyeing those around him.
‘The collection reminds me of some of the works of Stephen Clarke, I have to say. ’
A few of the group uttered their agreement in between polite sips of champagne before Corrigan finally entered the conversation again.
‘I think it’s her best yet, and all being well, we’re going to take this one to New York like some of the others. Maybe Paris and London later in the year too...if I can pull her away from the canvas that is...’
Polite laughter greeted his words, which he enjoyed for a little too long before carrying on confidently. I eyed him up and down as he continued, trying to get a feel for the man who was at the root of so much misery. Corrigan looked to be in his early to mid-sixties and the sort who would have been useful on the football pitch back in his prime. He also looked like he could take a punch, as well as land one in return, twice as hard...
I moved in closer, this time alone, squeezing in between the huddled group and the stage, wanting to hear every word. Corrigan had a strong southern accent indicative of the region and spoke with charm and authority. In short, the guy had presence, like a lot of the megalomaniacs I’d come across over the years, who enjoyed wielding their power over anyone and everyone.
‘Is she working on anything new at the moment, Lyle?’ a p
ortly female in an expensive ankle-length dress interrupted, confirming his identity.
‘She’s having a break now, what with organizing the exhibitions and all,’ he replied, turning to answer her question. ‘But she’s planning to do some new pieces, specifically about our rich mining heritage, later in the year. Of course I’m only too happy to inform her about that...’
There was more polite laughter again before Corrigan excused himself and walked up the steps onto the stage where the guitarists were now playing a melodic arpeggio. He bid them silent with a nonchalant sweep of his hand, halting them instantly.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, good friends of Lexington,’ he announced boldly into the microphone. ‘It gives me great pleasure to introduce this wonderful new collection by Reya, which I think you’ll all agree, is simply awe-inspiring...’
A sustained round of applause met his words. He waited a moment for it to die down then continued. ‘This is Reya’s twenty-third exhibition in Lexington. We are humbled and touched that she hasn’t forgotten her roots and continues to put our city on the map by showing her work here, especially as one of her recent pieces, “Rebel River” has just sold to a private buyer for nearly two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Yes…’
Another round of generous applause greeted the announcement.
‘Tonight maybe will be the last chance you’ll get to see many of these stunning pieces before they head into private hands.’ Corrigan looked down at the artist who had worked her way to the edge of the stage and was smiling up at him bashfully. ‘So I would ask you to raise your glasses and offer a toast to Reya Tolley, one of our own, and an ever brightening southern star...’
Tolley’s smile widened as the murmurs of appreciation rumbled across the room to the chinking of glasses, until Corrigan raised a hand and beckoned her on stage to a wave of sustained applause that took a while to fade.
‘Thank you friends…’ she said in a softer refrain than Corrigan’s. ‘I’m flattered in the extreme to have so many of you here this evening on the opening night of my Elements collection.
‘As you can see as you’ve wandered around, all of these paintings have been inspired by the power of nature, the rocks, the rivers and the forests and the divine majesty that permeates all of them and affects and inspires us daily. I hope they speak to you as much as they have done to me, and give you as much enjoyment as I’ve had in executing them.
‘Some of the paintings are still available to buy you’ll be glad to hear, those that don’t have a green sticker by them...So feel free to ask myself, or my assistant, Harriet, if anything grabs your attention. You won’t be pressured into buying anything, I promise, not even by Lyle...’
Gentle laughter broke out around the room, then applause, as Reya walked off stage and merged with another band of willing admirers to answer a surge of questions, that were fired at her from all directions.
‘What do you think?’ I said turning to Nancy.
‘Of her?’
‘Sure. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on, a falseness beneath that cute smile of hers. But then again, that’s why her and Corrigan are drawn to each other I suppose.’
‘You think that they are sleeping together?’ Nancy said, sounding surprised.
‘Definitely. Is Corrigan married?’
‘Yes, I think so, but you never see his wife at official functions. She doesn’t like this sort of thing people say.’
‘Obviously...’ I said, eyeing Tolley’s curves up from behind.
She was a good-looking woman, at least ten years younger than Corrigan, and she was talented and going places too. In return for his patronage, he got a slice of the prestige of it all and probably his hands on the goods too. No wonder his wife was nowhere to be seen. She probably knew what was really going on and was too embarrassed to be seen out with them.
A commotion near the entrance drew my attention away from Tolley’s crowd suddenly. A couple of people it seemed were having the same problem getting in too.
I squeezed my way past a cluster of guests admiring some large splash of aquamarine and charcoal entitled “The Waterfall” to see what was going on. When I saw the flash of the detective’s badge I knew it was trouble.
I pushed my way back to Nancy who was now being chatted up by some guy in a Stetson and politely interrupted.
‘Excuse me, do you mind if I speak with my wife for a second?’
The old cowboy, realizing his efforts were in vain, tipped his hat and melted away diplomatically.
‘We have to go…’
‘What?’ Nancy said, flush-faced from the champagne.
‘Cops. They might be here for us...’
‘What...’ she mouthed silently.
I waited impatiently as she emptied her glass of champagne then guided her across the room towards a swing door, which I’d noticed some waiters had been using earlier.
I’d just placed the flat of my hand against it and was about to enter, when the detective from the door appeared at my side suddenly, his deputy standing menacingly behind him.
‘Think the toilets are over there, sir,’ a waiter advised, coming to our aid.
I smiled innocently as the detective eyed me up and down, then watched bemused as he headed towards Corrigan while we worked our way towards the door.
At the far end of the room, I turned briefly and watched the detective whisper something in Corrigan’s ear, believing it to be about his brother. I waited for the reaction. The tycoon nodded stoically as the news was relayed, remaining unmoved.
A few seconds later the cop had ploughed his through the guests back to the lobby, then jumped in a waiting car and sped off. I eyed the tycoon as he walked over to Tolley and made his excuses then hurriedly left himself, several burly minders joining him at the door where they must have been waiting patiently for him do his stint.
‘Come on let’s get the hell out of here,’ I said.
‘What now?’ Nancy said, her voice slurring slightly from the alcohol.
‘Find out what Corrigan’s going to do next...’
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘unexpected’
It seemed like an eternity rolling around awkwardly in the back of the truck, before we finally halted and Nancy switched off the engine, signalling we’d arrived on the outskirts of Corrigan’s ranch.
I lifted the tarpaulin and slipped into the darkness, then back under the railings into the fields, my adrenalin pumping, feeling just that little bit ridiculous in an ill-fitting suit and pointed grey brogues.
On the other side I crouched down on my haunches and surveyed the scene in the half-light. I was in a sizeable field used for grazing. In the far corner to my right, were a cluster of horses sheltering under some trees for the night.
So as not to spook them, I worked my way directly across the undulating ground towards a thick hedgerow opposite, where I turned briefly to see the pick-up pull out and fade into the distance.
An hour later I would return to exactly the same spot, as we’d agreed when we were tailing Corrigan from the gallery. If there were any problems or I’d lost my phone, Nancy would come back every half hour for the next three hours. After that, and if I still wasn’t there, she would head back home and wait for me to get there by other means. If I did that was...
I took cover behind some trees and eyed a fancy stable-block close-by, then a signpost opposite. One arrow was pointing towards a cluster of agricultural buildings to my left, another to a tree-lined ridge in the distance where it declared the main house was situated.
I darted across the road servicing the stables and rolled under the next set of rails, then weaved my way across the lush pasture for a good few minutes until I arrived at the corner of the field.
I went down on one knee, breathing hard, then stared at the ridge rising up before me, just making out the roof of the eerie astrobellum mansion beyond it. For a moment I wondered if Corrigan was down there, then wondered why there was so little secu
rity for such an important guy.
As if reading my mind, a set of headlights loomed out of the darkness suddenly, forcing me to take cover behind a water trough. I listened to the vehicle draw close then come to a halt at the crossroads nearby. Now its powerful lights were illuminating my position directly. I cursed and pressed my body harder into the ground, my adrenalin pumping. A few seconds later, I heard the jeep pull away then saw the headlights fade.
Relieved, I edged out then looked on anxiously as the jeep pull up again. I eyed the two burly security guys inside. One was stooped over the wheel as if unsure of their direction; the other was speaking into a walkie-talkie, a rifle laid across his lap. I watched the guy with the radio intently. He turned in his seat as if sensing something was wrong. Then he shone his torch in my direction suddenly. I tucked in harder and waited for them to reverse.
Eventually I heard the jeep speed off, gave it a few minutes, then hauled myself up, crossed the road and ducked under the rails into the next field where I increased my pace again until I finally broke over the ridge.
I stopped for a moment taking a breather, eyeing the imposing mansion below, its white-fluted columns and balconies lit up a ghostly ivory in the brilliant moonlight. I wondered if Olivia Deacon was being held captive inside, if she had been injured in the crash, and whether they’d left her untouched. Jesus, I hope they’d left her untouched.
I broke into a stooping run, cursing my lack of fitness then worked my way along the edge of a final field, before rolling under the rails into well-manicured gardens dotted with Romanesque sculptures and ornate fountains.
Keeping to the shadows, I followed a thick hedgerow to its end, then crouched down and studied the massive property from the safety of the darkness. The place exuded power and money, looked just like the sort of place a megalomaniac like Corrigan would live in...
My eyes settled on a security camera fixed above the porch, housing a set of imposing black doors, then another three or four fixed along the lip of the roof covering a variety of different angles. The place had good security, but then again, every nut had its seam that could be prized open, it was just a matter of finding it, then waiting patiently for your chance. I checked my watch again. I had been twenty minutes already. It was time to get moving...
