Royalty

Chapter 7: Quite Blind In Others

Why did the Hickman Gallery have a stupid Old Master anyway? Weren't they supposed to be modern art?

I tossed the magazine away in disgust, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through my ankle. I'd rolled it on the way up the stairs, and now I was pretty sure it was sprained. I was trying to just sit still, I'd wrapped it and iced it, but I was going stir-crazy just sitting there.

I'd been on my own for close to three hours.

My phone buzzed and I grabbed it eagerly.

The painting's a fake.

Detail, please.

Gallery attendant hit by the Golem. Alex Woodbridge. Only conclusion: He knew something was wrong with it, painting's a fake.

Ah. Okay. Where are you?

Hickman Gallery. John's at the dead man's flat.

Anything I can do?

There's no response. Perfect.

That painting ... I grabbed the magazine again, flipping the pages haphazardly until I saw the full-page picture of the Vermeer. Fake, huh? That explains why the Hickman had it.

If someone inside the establishment knew it was fake, of course they'd want ... oh, what was it? Thirty million quid?

Most people would kill for that kind of money.

I looked at the picture, trying to look at brushstrokes, but I couldn't tell anything from the photo.

I'd have to look at it again later.

The pink phone buzzed with a text alert. I closed my eyes. The bomber called when he wanted to talk toSherlock. The bomber texted when he wanted to talk to me. What was he playing at?

I picked up the phone.

Wrong direction, love.

I took a deep breath. Could you quit being so cryptic all the time?

Oh, no. It's entirely necessary.

Why?

That's for me to know, and you to find out.

Great, you're cliche, too. Just what I need.

Please, darling. Trying to make me angry? Not that easy.

Why are you wasting time messing with me?

Wasting? No, no. This is not wasting.

Then what is it? There was no answer for a bit.

Testing. Playing. Using. Pick whichever answer you like.

And if I don't like any of them?

Then, my dear, you get to see how the game is won.

What do you mean?

Oh, come on, I know you're smarter than that.

What do you mean?

I know you figured out the shoes before Sherlock did. Shame he always takes the credit.

Oh, shut up.

Shame he and Johnny-boy keep shutting you out of the game.

They're not shutting me out.