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“I would think an art restoration expert would find digitized reproductions especially distasteful.”
“I do if they are being used to perpetrate a fraud, but if we could get this kind of technology into the hands of educators, imagine how it could positively impact younger children and their appreciation of the work of those who went before them.”
He nodded. “What about 3D imaging, for say the necklace?”
“Again, depending on its purpose, I am not opposed to the idea. Transporting children to a museum has become more problematic, so I would think as a teaching tool those kind of advanced graphics capabilities would only increase their learning opportunities. How long will the necklace be staying in London?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that because of security concerns. The owners agreed to let it be put on display here as frankly that case and the museum’s added security make it probably the safest place in London. We believe someone might have been planning something during the gala, but nothing came of the rumors we’ve heard.”
“There were rumors?”
Fletcher nodded. “Like those paintings, the necklace has a taint to its provenance. We heard that a notorious jewel thief might be making a second attempt.”
“Second?” Shit, it sounded like Fletcher and his people might be on to something.
“Yes, we think there was an earlier attempt made. Combined with the rumors about last night, my concern is whoever it is may well try again. I want the thing back home with its owners in Paris.”
She withdrew her hand. “It was nice talking with you, Mr. Fletcher…”
“Please call me, Fletch.”
“I wasn’t thinking of calling you anything at all.”
“Get out of there,” hissed Mia in her ear.
“And I was so hoping you might call me sweetheart,” he teased.
Claire tried to give him her best scowl, but when he waggled his eyebrows at her, all she could do was laugh.
“Do you ever just take no for an answer?”
“Rarely, and never if it’s something I really want.”
“Do I fall into the latter category?”
“Most assuredly. Take pity on the poor American in London. Let me take you to lunch at my hotel. Gordon Ramsay runs the Savoy Grill.”
“No! No! No!” said Mia.
Thinking perhaps she could pump him for information, she smiled. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Excellent. I’ll have them send a car, and until then, why don’t you take me to your favorite piece of art in the museum and educate me about all the things I don’t know about.”
“Abort! Abort! Abort,” Mia practically screamed in her ear.
“Let me introduce you to eighteenth-century artist Henry Hogson. I think his landscapes are absolutely divine and so underrated. The museum has one of my personal favorites called The Parsonage.”
With her hand now comfortably tucked into his arm, Claire led Fletch to one of the other galleries while Mia bemoaned and berated her in equal fashion. If she had been sure Fletch wouldn’t see her, Claire would have removed her earpiece. She adored Mia but Fletch might well be able to supply them with just what they needed in the way of information, and if she was lucky, might well scratch an itch that hadn’t been scratched in a very long time.
CHAPTER6
FLETCH
Fletch wasn’t sure what it was, but he was damn sure there was something about Claire Mitchell that just didn’t quite add up. She’d been here the other night. Surely, she would have seen the three paintings Pennington had wanted to show her. All of the paintings and otherobjet d’artthat were currently on display at the museum had been listed on the program for the gala. He didn’t quite buy her explanation that she had been mining the field for new business.
There was also the business about her face being obscured in the video footage. His tech said it might have been a fluke, might be a glitch in the camera footage or she could have been using some kind of a jamming device. The latter greatly amused him, as they had used a jamming frequency against whoever was after the necklace.
He wondered if the beautiful and alluring Claire Mitchell had lied to him. God, he hated liars. His ex-girlfriend had been a consummate liar and an actress, although not by trade. By trade she was an investment banker for one of the banks based here in London. Evangeline had all the right assets to be the perfect partner: she was beautiful, although a bit thin for his taste; she had a straight chic blonde bob, wore the most fashionable outfits, lived in killer stilettos, and had the perfect pedigree and connections. Unfortunately, once you moved past the surface, there was nothing of substance—only style and a façade.
