Clearly he expected it to mean something to her. Erin shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Sorry, I assumed that Francesco would have explained things to you.’
‘Are you a lawyer?’
He looked startled by the suggestion and a little offended. ‘No, Mrs Romanelli, I own the Heyer Gallery—London, New York and Barcelona …’
‘I’ve heard of that.’
‘You know, then, about our upcoming exhibition?’ ‘Not really.’
‘I’m getting the feeling that you don’t know that your husband brought your portfolio to us.’
Erin responded with a noncommittal smile. It was news to her that she had a … what had he said? Portfolio?
‘Well, obviously normally we do not consider work by someone who just walks in through the door, but your husband, he …’
‘Doesn’t take no for an answer?’
‘Forceful.’
More a force of nature, Erin thought, wondering what Francesco had done to make this man look as though he were recalling a fight with a grizzly with toothache.
‘Your husband is also a very difficult man to negotiate with—I’d say you are very lucky to have him as your agent.’
I have an agent?
‘He’s one of a kind,’ she agreed cautiously.
‘Mr Romanelli mentioned you were here and I was passing so I just dropped by to tell you how excited we are by your work. Really excited! That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you feel better soon.’
‘Thank you.’
It was two hours later when Francesco arrived. Two hours during which Erin had totally failed to unravel the riddle of the man with the beard.
‘I hear they are releasing you in the morning.’
‘Finally. I had a visitor this afternoon. A Peter Heyer.’
In the act of shrugging off his jacket, Francesco paused.
‘He is very excited, apparently.’
‘He is, it seemed to me, quite an excitable sort of man.’
‘I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. I have an agent … a portfolio …?’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Do you mind telling me what is going on?’
‘When I was at your studio—’
Erin, her eyes wide with amazement, cut across him. ‘You were at my studio. Why would you be?’
‘I was getting some things you asked for from your flat when I came across this very nice lady. She wanted the photos you did of her daughter’s wedding. She was, incidentally, most pleased with the results.
‘While I was there I came across some of your work … not the photographs which people pay you to take, not that they are not very competent.’
Erin knew he was talking about the boxes stacked from floor to ceiling in a cupboard.
‘They’re just for me. I’ve been snapping things since I was in my teens. I know it’s digital age and everything, but I—’