Two bellmen showed the women to their rooms. Exactly as Annie had specified. A suite with adjoining rooms. With spectacular views of Central Park.
“Oh my!” Charlotte said in awe. “This is beautiful!” She approached the other two women and embraced them. “You are too good to me. I cannot thank you enough.”
“True, but please stop!” Annie laughed. “We are on a mission, my friend. And other people will benefit from your bravery.”
“Brave?” Charlotte was skeptical. “Me? How?”
“You came to us with a very serious problem. Many people would never have had the courage to admit they were having problems. Not only did you tell me, but you are also doing something to change it,” Myra reassured her.
“Thank you. I mean, never mind!” Charlotte joked.
“Let’s unpack and freshen up. We have a lunch date!” Annie directed them. “Let’s regroup in a half hour. Is that enough time for everyone to get ready?”
“What shall I wear?” Charlotte asked.
“That lovely white suit,” Myra called out. “I’ll be in navy, and I know Annie will be wearing something red with her boots! We’ll look very patriotic together!”
Within thirty minutes, the women were ready and on their way to the restaurant. They walked along the south side of Central Park in the direction of Columbus Circle, admiring the budding trees.
“I remember when Central Park had a terrible reputation,” commented Charlotte. “Purse snatching, muggings. That poor girl who was murdered by that preppy kid, then the jogger.”
“But look at it now,” Annie exclaimed. “When Giuliani took office, he kicked a lot of ass cleaning up the city. Then Bloomberg stepped in and continued much of the progress. Although I don’t particularly agree with everything they did, they did turn the city around.”
“They could have turned it around quicker if they had had us on their team,” Myra said wryly.
They entered the luxurious restaurant and were greeted as old friends. “Countess. Mrs. Rutledge. And whom do I have the pleasure?” The maître d’ took Charlotte’s extended hand.
“This is our dear friend Charlotte Hansen,” Myra explained. “She is a children’s book author.”
“Lovely to meet you. Celine will show you to your table.”
The women followed the tall, exotic model type to a table, where Victor was waiting. Lots of “Darlings!” “Hello, Gorgeous!” and “Fabulous!” were bandied about among kisses on both cheeks.
“Tell me, what brings you to our fair city?” Victor asked. “Shopping for a new something? Anything?”
“Perhaps. But, most of all, we are shopping for information.” Annie got right to the point. “Are you familiar with a Dr. Raymond Corbett? He has a practice on Long Island, though he lives in the city.”
“Oh, darling, I do know this Dr. Corbett.” Victor batted his eyes at her.
Annie leaned into the middle of the table. Victor obliged. “We need to know if Dr. Corbett has been in contact with Christie’s, and if so, what for?”
Victor leaned in closer. “Yes. Arrangements have been made for him to acquire a Chagall that is in private hands. The change of ownership is being handled by us at the request of the owner. It is one of the recovered pieces the Nazis stole.”
“But shouldn’t that go back to the country of origin?” Myra asked.
“That’s been an ongoing issue for years,” Victor explained. “France, Germany, the Netherlands, and several other countries are battling with the survivors of families who originally owned the art before it was taken from them.”
“I recall reading an article in the New York Times about several Rembrandts that are in question,” Annie said.
“Yes, it’s a sticky situation. However, the piece we have is being sold by the person who found it, in an attic, of all places. Such luck, eh? And it’s a private sale, not an auction.”
“Tell us more about Corbett and this painting,” Myra pushed.
“Corbett has already set up an account. He apparently reached an agreement with the owner, who wishes to remain anonymous, to purchase it for one million dollars. Then he came to us and asked that we broker the transaction. We, of course, were happy to do so. Commissions are always welcome, you know.”
“Interesting. Some might say it’s worth twenty million,” Myra commented.
“And that is what makes the art world so mysterious. Whatever the bidder is willing to pay. But in this case, it’s not an auction we’re talking about.” Victor clapped his hands. “Ta-da!”
“When is this sale taking place?” Annie asked anxiously.
“Sometime next week. It will be conducted over the phone.” Victor sighed.
Myra and Annie looked at each other and grinned. Perfect timing.
“Then what happens, as far as taking possession?” Myra asked.
“The successful bidder, or buyer in this case, makes arrangements for security and transportation.”
“What if the person is not ready to take possession? What do you do with it?” Myra asked slyly.
“In this case, we do not actually have the painting on the premises. It’s at a holding facility, awaiting international clearance, customs, and all.”
The wheels were spinning in the women’s heads. They could barely get through the rest of their lunch. Lots more idle chatter ensued, but Annie’s knee was bobbing up and down under the table. These boots were made for walk-in’. . . , she said to herself, chuckling.
“Victor darling, this was a wonderful treat to see you.”
“For you, anything.” Victor embraced Annie, then Myra, and gave a hug to Charlotte.
Victor headed downtown as the women made their way east to their hotel. Annie was practically jogging and was dodging oncoming pedestrians, dogs, and bicycles. Charlotte could hardly keep up.
“Ladies! Please! Slow down!”
Myra looked over her shoulder at Charlotte and said, “You should see her drive!” She slowed down so Charlotte could catch up. “Let her scamper off. She has to stop at the crosswalk. I don’t think she’d take the chance on jaywalking! Not with all this traffic.”
Myra and Charlotte caught up to Annie, who was waiting for the signal of an outline of a person to turn from red to white. Myra pointed. “They have a countdown so you know how many seconds you have before you get hit by a bus!”
The three women crossed the busy street, entered the hotel, and made a beeline to the elevator bank. As soon as they caught their breath, they burst into laughter. Annie put her hand up, and they all high-fived!
Annie was the first to whip open her tablet. “Looks like Charles has some information. Apparently, Avery and his team are going to extreme lengths to get deep.”
“As he should, after the fiasco during the Forrester mission.” Myra stroked her pearls.
“Remember, Myra, that really wasn’t his fault. Charles and Fergus gave him the instructions,” Annie recalled.
“Yes, I know, and they paid dearly.” Myra started to laugh; Annie followed. They had been infuriated with Charles and Fergus for changing up the plan. Luckily, everything had turned out fine. More than fine.