“Long distance for Miss Vivian Brazier. Long distance for Miss Vivian Brazier.”
Vivian raised one hand. The page hurried over. He put the telephone on the table and plugged the cord into a wall jack.
“Thank you.” Vivian picked up the receiver. “This is Vivian Brazier.”
“Joan Ashwood of the Ashwood Gallery in Burning Cove.”
Vivian froze. “If you’re calling to tell me that under the circumstances you feel you can no longer display my pictures—”
“I’m calling to inform you I have recently sold the two pictures from your Men series that you left with me.”
“Really?” Vivian tightened her grip on the receiver. “Who bought them?”
“A collector who wishes to remain anonymous.”
“I see,” Vivian said.
“I believe you said you planned to create twelve limited-edition photographs in that series?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“If you have not already promised them to another gallery I would like to take all of them. Sixteen signed, limited editions, each. Standard contract terms.”
Vivian stared at Lyra speechless.
“Miss Brazier?” Joan said, sounding concerned. “Are you there?”
Vivian pulled herself together. “Yes. Yes, I’m here.”
“The show is next week. I realize it’s very short notice but if you could have a couple more large prints from that series ready by then I would love to exhibit them.”
“I can manage to have two or three ready in time,” Vivian said. She cleared her throat. “About my name.”
“What about it?” Joan asked.
“I’m sure by now you’ve seen the photo I took of Fenella Penfield.”
“Oh, yes, it’s in all the papers. Excellent shot, by the way. The outflung hand. The massive statue and the police detective gazing down at the body. The context told the whole story. No words needed.”
Vivian was horrified. “I assure you, it wasn’t posed.”
“I never thought it was. I just said it was a very evocative photograph.”
“My point is, not only was my name in the story, I also got the photo credit. That means I no longer have any hope of concealing my crime scene work. Perhaps I should use a pseudonym for my art photography?”
“Not in Burning Cove. Here we live by the First Law of Marketing: Any publicity is good publicity. That’s one of the reasons why I want to get some more of your work into my upcoming exhibition rather than wait for the next one. Strike while the iron is hot and all that.”
“Okay. If you think that’s for the best.”
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
Vivian hung up, dazed.
“Well?” Lyra said.
“The Ashwood Gallery in Burning Cove wants more pictures from my Men series.”
Lyra’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “That’s fantastic news.”
Vivian got a little thrill of awareness and turned her head to see Nick walking toward the table where she sat with Lyra. Rex was with him. He stopped in front of them, brows slightly elevated.
“What did I miss?” he asked.
“Have a seat,” Lyra said. “We’re celebrating because Vivian just got some very good news. The Ashwood Gallery in Burning Cove is going to hang the rest of the pictures from her Men series. Evidently the first two pictures were snapped up by an anonymous collector.”
“My art career rises from yet another near-death experience and lurches forward once more,” Vivian said.
Nick sat down and helped himself to a dainty salmon and cucumber sandwich. “Congratulations. That’s great news. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. I knew it was just a matter of time before someone recognized your talent.”
Vivian went very still, a dark thought crowding out some of her delight.
“You’re not the anonymous collector who bought those pictures from the Burning Cove gallery, are you?” she asked.
Nick put the entire sandwich into his mouth and gave her one of his patented enigmatic looks.
“Why?” he said around the sandwich.
She cleared her throat, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “While it would be a lovely gesture and much appreciated, it wouldn’t be quite the same as a genuine sale to a real collector.”
Nick nodded, swallowed, and reached for another sandwich. “I thought about buying those pictures anonymously but I knew it wouldn’t give you the validation you wanted. So, no, I didn’t buy them and I don’t know who did.”
Vivian relaxed. “Good. Thanks.”
Lyra chuckled. “See? Those sales were the real deal.”
Nick groaned. “I suppose this means I’m going to have to live with a steady stream of half-naked Muscle Beach men wandering in and out of Vivian’s studio.”
Vivian got a warm, giddy feeling. Across the table Lyra met her eyes and winked.
“I intend to finish the Men series,” Vivian said. “But after that I’m moving on to another subject.”
“I’m afraid to ask what that will be,” Nick said.
“Good, because I haven’t decided yet,” Vivian said.
“As it happens, I’ve got a little good news myself,” Nick said. “Raina called to let me know she checked with the front desk staff of the Burning Cove Hotel. Ripley Fleming’s secretary booked his room there a full month before the events here in Adelina Beach. He stays there frequently and prefers one particular villa.”
“Hah.” Vivian smiled. “So there is such a thing as coincidence, after all. If you want more proof, just look at how the two of us met.”
Nick smiled. His eyes heated. “That wasn’t coincidence. That was fate.”
Lyra jumped to her feet and stole a cup and saucer from a nearby table. Seating herself again, she poured tea for Nick. Then she raised her cup in a toast.
“Here’s to wild women everywhere,” she said.
Nick smiled at Vivian once more. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter 49
I look forward to hanging the rest of the pictures in your Men series,” Joan Ashwood said. She surveyed the glamorous crowd that filled her gallery. “I’ve already sold the three images on display here tonight and I’ve got orders for most of the limited-edition prints. I will definitely be raising the price on your next series.”