understood it. Jake dreamed a little too big. He was constantly trying to get me to drive up prices for his work. I think he had a bit of a complex about Miranda being more successful than him, and he had an idea that if I raised his prices, he could make more of a name for himself.” Hal gave a wry smile. “Well. His name had been made—by Miranda. I think sometimes he regretted her taking his name, to be honest, because it was a very good name, very brandable, if you’ll forgive the pun, and then once it was linked to her, he could never unlink it. Anyway, I couldn’t just raise the prices on his work arbitrarily. I have a reputation to protect. You have to respond to demand, and there wasn’t much demand for his work. Until he started painting Nangussett.”
Kate raised her head. That last diary entry she had read. She had intended to look up the painting Jake and Miranda had fought about, see if it had ever been finished or sold, but then yesterday had happened, and she had forgotten.
“Have you seen the Nangussett work? No?” Hal got up, went over to one of the bookshelves. Pulled out a thin volume. “This is the only catalog anyone’s done of Jake’s work. It didn’t get published very widely. And now most of the Nangussett paintings are sitting in a vault in Switzerland—a Chinese collector bought them all up about ten years ago, thinking they’d be an investment. Smart move. They’re probably Jake’s most valuable work. Ah. Here.”
He found the page he was looking for and set it down in front of Kate. Her head was ringing a little, overstimulated by the caffeine and the bright light from the courtyard, so it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. Like the painting out in the gallery, this one’s perspective was all off, the ground shifted sideways. It made Kate feel unsteady again, even seasick, but she couldn’t quite look away.
“Is that what the hospital rooms really looked like?” she asked.
“I assume so. I know he visited Miranda.”
“It’s…” She searched for the right word. Good was too light. Dark too simplistic. Nauseating sounded like a criticism. Interesting meant nothing.
Hal seemed to understand what she meant. “It isn’t just voyeurism that makes the Nangussett paintings sell,” he said. “They really are some of his best work.” He closed the book and walked over to put it on his desk. “But most people are like you. They want to know about Jake because of Miranda. It’s always been like that, ever since Capillaries took off. That was hard for him. And for her.”
“How was it hard for her?”
“I think she felt responsible for his unhappiness. She wanted him to succeed.”
“Did she put pressure on you to sell his work?”
Hal leaned against the side of his desk and crossed his arms, bunching the sides of his expensive jacket.
“Why all these questions?” he asked.
“Well. It’s my job.”
“Is it? You aren’t a fact-checker anymore.”
“No, but I—” Kate broke off. She hadn’t told him that she had been a fact-checker.
“Yes,” Hal said. “I know who you are. When Theo mentioned he’d hired someone, I did some digging. You were going to be handling so many photographs. I had actually asked Theo to hire someone from our gallery, someone versed in conservation, but he ignored me.” He added sourly, “So who knows what dismal condition the photos will arrive in.”
Kate bristled. “I’ve been very careful,” she said. “I did work in a museum once, and—”
“I know why you were fired from your last job,” Hal said.
A cold shiver coursed over her body. There was a chirping noise outside the window. Her eyes darted to it, then back to Hal. Birds in the courtyard. She became vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging open, and she somehow managed to close it.
“Okay,” she said.
“Have you told Theo?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
He knew she was lying.
“Maybe you should,” he said. “Because seeing you here … I’ve known people like you. Bright-eyed. Focused. Obsessed. Do you know you’ve been bouncing your leg the whole time we’ve been talking?”
Kate looked down and discovered, to her surprise, that he was right. She put a hand on her thigh to still it.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with you,” she said.
“You’re in my office,” he said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child. “You’re asking me about one of my top clients. Trying to find out