When the Shadows Fall (Blackwood Security #14) - Elise Noble Page 0,2

you’re not,” Alaric replied.

No, Black wasn’t, but he was feigning civility because he wanted to get back into Emmy’s good graces. She hadn’t confirmed what he’d done, not in as many words, but I didn’t have to be a mind reader to work it out. I was the one who’d first voiced concerns that Black had taken the pay-off, you see, although when I told Emmy of my suspicions, she’d not-so-kindly informed me that I was dead wrong. But she also hadn’t spent a night with him since their big fight. Go figure.

“Doesn’t he go out anywhere?” Emmy asked.

“I spoke to one of the assistants in the Marshall Gallery.” Dan paused to take a sip of her coffee. Whatever faults Emmy might have, she ensured her coffee machine was stocked with the best. If I failed my probation and got my ass kicked back to London, perhaps the biggest disappointment would be having to go back to instant. “She told me that eight years ago, Marshall ramped up security and cut back on his travel. The local gossipmongers said a gang of thieves targeted him for his money.”

“Eight years ago?” Emmy echoed. “Other people’s money, more like. He’s nothing but a dirty thief himself.”

“I’ve asked around, and Mack’s scoured the local newspaper archives. The only thing that seems to lure him out of his lair is arts-related events. Rumour says he’ll be at the opening night of the Penngrove Community Theater’s production of King Lear, but that isn’t for another two months. And he always attends new exhibitions at the gallery, but the current show runs for another six weeks.”

Killian Marshall was a keen patron of the local theatre in Penngrove. He paid the rent on their building as well as providing funding for props and costumes. Plus he ran his eponymous art gallery as a social enterprise, donated to the local animal sanctuary, and sponsored summer camps for the town’s kids. An all-around great guy. A pillar of the community. When he wasn’t busy fencing stolen paintings or shooting at people, that was.

“Any music concerts?”

“Battle of the Bands takes place in September, and he’ll probably present the prizes, but that’s seven weeks away. The rest’s just small change—a local duo playing Simon & Garfunkel’s greatest hits, a Whitney Houston tribute act, a fundraiser by the high school glee club… And the concerts take place at the Penngrove Pavilion. Guess who owns the place?”

“Couldn’t we turn that to our advantage?” Alaric asked. “Have someone act as an event organiser and go visit him? You’re practically married to a music producer, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I already reached out to the Marshall Foundation on Ethan’s behalf. Killian takes his meetings by Skype only, so I backed off. Agatha researched online and compiled a list of his known public appearances beyond Penngrove for the past eight years, but there’s not much—a mention that he attended the premiere of a movie he helped to finance in California, a trip to London for the opening of an art exhibition he lent a painting to—”

“What painting?”

“A Modigliani. Legally purchased from Christie’s. He also headed to Paris for a charity concert, to New York to attend a special performance of Swan Lake, and to Miami for a jazz performance by Shabaka Hutchings.”

Bradley, Emmy’s assistant, bustled in with a plate of freshly baked cookies. Yet another advantage of living at Riverley. I’d grown up on the breadline in London, where even a Mars Bar was a luxury, and now there was all this food… Yeah, the ten-mile runs weren’t necessarily a bad thing.

Today, Bradley’s hair was black at the sides with a pale-pink stripe down the middle, like a skunk that took a wrong turn into a candyfloss machine. And then got into a punch-up with a flock of flamingos. His boa was shedding feathers everywhere, and they floated around the room on the breeze coming in through the windows.

“How did Marshall get to those places?” Black asked. “By private jet?”

I might have been the new girl, but I still knew where his thoughts were heading. We could replace the pilot on his next trip and fly Marshall somewhere else. Somewhere isolated. Or possibly snatch him at the airport before he even took off.

“We’re still looking into that. And also researching other possible events he might be interested in. There must be some way we could engineer him onto a guest list.”

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” Bradley said. “Duh. Just hold our own shindig here and invite him. Come