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“You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?”
“No, indeed!”
“You’ll be interested to hear that I’m engaged.”
“My dear fellow! I congrat—”
“To Milverton’s housemaid.”
“Good Heavens, Holmes!”
“I wanted information, Watson.”
“Surely you have gone too far?”
Just because Humphrey was a friend of Durrand’s didn’t automatically make him a confederate.
Still.
After about five minutes of debating with himself, Jason pretended his cell phone was vibrating, apologized to Alex, and ducked down so as not to block the screen on his way out of the room.
As the door of the home theater closed behind him, he spotted Humphrey striding down the hall toward him. He was alone.
Jason smiled vaguely, scrolling through his messages. “It’s like they always know the worst time to call,” he said to Humphrey.
Humphrey smiled politely. Behind the round spectacles, his milky eyes were cold. “I’m terrible with names. Who did you say you were again?”
Jason stopped scrolling and dropped his phone in his pocket. “Jack Danto.”
“And you’re a friend of Alex’s?”
“We haven’t known each other long. I’m teaching film studies at UCLA.”
“I see.” Humphrey nodded at some private thought.
“Did Shep leave before the end of the movie?” Jason asked innocently.
Humphrey pursed his lips. “I think he’d guessed the ending.”
“That’s a shame. Sherlock Holmes is always full of surprises.”
“Only if you’re very new to the oeuvre.” Humphrey offered another chilly smile and went into the theater. He let the door swing shut behind.
“Oeuvre,” Jason murmured. “Damn.” He gave it a minute and slipped back inside.
“You can see why BB is a little defensive,” Alex said on the quick drive back to UCLA.
Jason had offered to drive. Despite the quantity and quality of wine, he’d had very little to drink. But Alex, possibly out of unease at what Jason might do, had also restricted his alcoholic intake, and declined.
“Why?” All day long Jason had managed to keep his attention where it needed to be: On The Job. But in a short while he’d be seeing Sam, and despite the frustrations of the evening, he couldn’t contain that rising swell of happiness. He just wanted to grab his car and get home as soon as humanly possible.
“Eventually, that film’s coming to the archive. Unless something gets in the way.”
“That film was terrible,” Jason commented.
Alex threw him a quick look of disbelief. “I thought your gig was art preservation. Conservation theory needs to embrace transience.”
“No question.” But in the very act of choosing what to preserve and when, there was inevitably curation. And curation, like critique, was subjective.
There was a short silence.
“Theoretically, The Missing Rembrandt is a lost film,” Alex said. “I don’t know where or how Humphrey got a copy, and I don’t think the print we saw was complete, but getting that film safely into the archive will be a coup for BB.”
“I imagine so.” Jason asked curiously, “How did you get to be part of this film clique?”
“BB and I go way back. I started out as a film studies major.”
“What happened?”
Alex smiled faintly. “There’s a lot of variety and possibility in a BFA. I’m a movie geek. I didn’t necessarily want to make my own movies, and I sure as hell didn’t want to have to try to compete in the cutthroat environment of the film industry. I just wanted to do art for a living, which I feel like I do.”
“Did you ever hear of a film called Snowball in Hell?”
“No.” Alex glanced his way. “Why?”
“Professor Ono didn’t discuss her attempts to acquire the film with the rest of the club?”
“If she did, it wasn’t when I was around. I’ve never heard of it.”
“It was gay noir flick from the 1950s.”
Alex was shaking his head. “No such film ever existed. No way. Victim didn’t come along until 1961. The Brits were way ahead of us there.”
“No, it really was made. I’ve seen snippets of it on YouTube. It’s officially listed as a lost film.”
“And Georgie found it?”
“Sort of. Maybe. An anonymous seller approached her with what seemed to be frames from the original film. She showed the film strip to Bardolf, and he thought they were genuine.”
“He never mentioned it.”
“He was hoping to cut her out and obtain the film for the archive.”
“That sounds like BB. What happened with the film?”
“The seller changed their mind.”
Alex was silent for a moment, then said, “Do you think Durrand recognized you?”
“I don’t know if he recognized me, but he knew something was up.” Jason smothered a sigh. It had been a long day and a long evening. “I guess you don’t survive decades as a psychopath without developing a keen sense of danger.”
“That’s…yeah. I mean there were rumors of legal problems at the gallery, but I never dreamed the Durrands were the subject of an FBI investigation. And Shep. I mean, yes, there’s always been something sort of…slithery about that smile of his. He shakes hands too long. But…”
Jason said, “The people who were there tonight. Aside from Bardolf, is that pretty much everyone?”
Alex made an unamused sound. “It’s funny you should mention that. Yes and no. BB would usually be there. Some of the more elderly members…”
“Ran out of daylight?”
“How noir of you. But yes. And we do have people show up and then fade out. Or at least, I used to think they dropped out, but now and again, I get the feeling there’s another…membership tier.”
Jason studied Alex’s profile. “That’s very interesting.”
“Another thing I’ve been thinking lately is that it’s kind of odd Georgie was our only female member. Ever. There are no women in that club.”
“I noticed that,” Jason said.
“Well, it’s been real and it’s been fun,” Alex said as Jason got out of the Nissan.
Jason’s moonlit rental was the only other vehicle in the faculty parking area.
Jason leaned down, grinning. “But it hasn’t been real fun?”
“Actually, it was pretty fun. You’re…quite the catalyst.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“And probably were, after we left.” Alex’s smile was rueful. “I’ll see you Monday, I guess?”
Jason hesitated. “I probably won’t be here on Monday. I think my investigation has pretty much run its course.”
“Oh.” Alex’s smile faded. “That’s—well, I guess good news, really. Depending on what happens next. I’ve enjoyed—it was nice seeing you again.”
“Thank you so much for your help, Alex.” Jason offered his hand. “I mean that. I know you had mixed feelings about…things. And one thing that won’t happen next is my breaking my word to you.”
They shook hands.
Alex said, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Take care.” Jason closed the car door and tapped the roof in goodbye.
The Nissan Leaf glided slowly, silently away.
