Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

God help him if it was the wrong one.

Peggy waited until she heard Wallace leave before she came downstairs to talk to Cindy.

“It looks like we’ve both been busy tonight,” Peggy commented drily, noting Cindy rearranging her clothes and combing her fingers through her hair.

Cindy gave a faint smile. “Things are definitely heating up on all fronts. I got two new projects tonight. I met a charming couple from Bronxville who collect Picasso and Matisse. And I agreed to accompany Wallace to his East Hampton estate this weekend. So I’ve got more commissioned jobs than I know what to do with, Xiao Long has another profitable target to hit, and Wallace is so captivated by me he can’t even see straight.” She finished buttoning the top of her blouse. “He’s more like an ardent teenager than a middle-aged man.”

Observing the sparkle in Cindy’s eyes and the high color on her cheeks, Peggy said, “This game with Wallace is becoming less of an act and more of a reality. You’re starting to care for the man.”

Cindy’s fingers paused on her collar. “I find him attractive and intelligent. I doubt any woman would object to the gifts, adoration, and attention he’s lavishing on me. And truthfully, I feel a little sorry for him. I know what he did to Meili, and I don’t blame my A Sook for despising and wanting to ruin him. But in all fairness, it was she who dumped him. Wallace has no idea how hard she took their break-up, or that she found out she was pregnant after it was over. I believe he would have taken care of her and the baby. He’s an honorable man. And losing his five-year-old daughter—isn’t that punishment enough?”

“He didn’t just lose her,” Peggy amended quietly. “She was killed. By an anonymous hit-and-run driver. Three months after Meili took her own life. Do you really believe that was a coincidence?”

Cindy’s fingers faltered for a moment, and then continued smoothing her hair off her face. “Of course not. I’m not a fool. I know my A Sook. It’s an eye for an eye. But we’ve never spoken about Sophie’s death. I never intend to ask him outright. Because, frankly, I don’t want to hear the answer.”

“It was easier when Wallace Johnson was a faceless name, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Cindy nodded. “Now he’s a flesh-and-blood human being. But I’ll do what I have to. I gave my word. It’s my A Sook’s dying wish.”

“I know.” Peggy dropped the subject. “When I said we were both busy tonight, I meant it. The Renoir is complete. I finished it while you were at the cocktail party.”

“Excellent. I’m sure it’s a flawless duplicate. They always are.” Cindy hurried to the stairs. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Do you want me to make the arrangements?”

Cind

y paused on the first step, considering the situation from every angle. “Not yet,” she decided. “I’ll call my A Sook and give him an update. It has to be his decision. With the FBI sniffing around, he might want to wait until Xiao gets his hands on all the outstanding paintings, and then send the entire shipment together. On the other hand, he might want the original Renoir out of the U.S. right away. Everything has to be timed just so. The pièce de résistance is coming up fast.”

Outside the Jaspar Museum of Art on Crosby Street in Soho, the Albanian art student shot a few additional pictures with her still camera. She’d already taken a ton of digital photos inside the museum, and written notes to accompany each photo.

Soon her assignment would be complete.

Phil met Ben at two a.m. outside a hole-in-the-wall gambling dive in Chinatown.

“That was fast,” Phil commented, looking very pleased. “Four hours after your phone call. Evidently, your employment company owner is eager to do business.”

Once again, Ben opened his mouth to tell Phil the truth. He probably would have gone through with it this time. They were already walking into the lobby, and he doubted Phil would turn back. But an Asian teenager with a scar on his face approached them and wordlessly beckoned them to follow.

The back room was dimly lit and consisted of a few round tables, all of which were empty, save one.

Xiao Long was wearing a jacket, no tie. His hands were folded on the table, and his face, cloaked by shadows, was expressionless.

Ben shot Phil a sideways glance. No reaction. Good.

“Sit,” Xiao said without preamble. “Martino said you take care of money and that you have business deal. Describe.”

Phil and Ben each pulled back a chair and sat.

“It’s very simple,” Phil explained. “You’re right. I handle the money. Ben handles the day-to-day business. In checking our books, I saw that, each month, he’s been paying you more and more for your workers. That’s hurting the business. So I came to the factory to see why. I figured out the girls are all illegals. That’s a big problem. ICE is conducting major investigations to crack down on illegals. And they’re taking action. Not just deporting the girls. Putting the employers in jail.”

Xiao barely blinked. “You are employers. Your crime.”

“Partly.” Phil didn’t dispute Xiao’s claim. “There’s no doubt we’re at risk. But so are you. You hire the help. My partner rents them. We could all go to jail. I doubt any of us wants that.”

“You bring solution?”

“Yes. I’m not just a certified accountant. I’m also a certified financial planner. It’s like a business adviser. I’m good at protecting my clients and increasing their profits. You could become one of those clients. I know lots of people. Rich people. I’d send you to all the right customers. Customers who need many hard workers. Customers who don’t need their workers to speak English. Customers who pay top dollar and don’t ask questions. And I could fix your financial records so everything looks legal. You’d make a fortune. And you’d make it fast.”