Free The Play of Light and Shadow & Writing by Barry Ergang Page B

loyalty, Riveau never told the police about Marchand.
Prison took an enormous toll on his physical and mental health, but
the officials there allowed him to paint, and that kept him from
complete disintegration. That and his journal.” Gaines smiled with
a kind of triumphal empathy. “He began to paint with a renewed
dedication to his own vision. He’d been painting his own original
works all along, you understand, and even sold some. Someone
evidently benefited from the notoriety of his imprisonment by
obtaining and selling work found in his studio. It may have been
Marchand. While in prison, Riveau experimented with various styles
until he found the one that suited him and resulted in the works
for which he’ll probably be best remembered.
    “ After his release he continued to
paint and started to show his work. When the work began to sell, he
became an artist of some repute. Along with the profits from his
former illegal enterprises, which he’d concealed from the
authorities, the income from new sales gave him freedom to
concentrate on his art. Nomad ,
the one I bought, is from that period.
    “ Marchand contacted him to revive their
old partnership, but Riveau refused. He didn’t need the money, was
afraid of going back to prison, and was determined to carve his own
niche in the modern art world. He and Marchand had a bitter
argument, and Marchand swore that he would destroy Riveau’s work to
prevent him from attaining the fame he desperately wanted.
Afterwards, many Riveau paintings disappeared from galleries,
museums, and the homes of collectors. It’s assumed that Marchand
stole and destroyed them.”
    Gaines unfolded his arms and took a sip of
his drink, waiting for Darnell’s reaction.
    “ You want me to guard your painting,”
the latter said.
    “ Yes.”
    “ Why? What’s the point?”
    Gaines frowned as if Darnell were a
dull-witted student. “To protect it, of course.”
    “ Yeah, but for how long? I can’t spend
twenty-four hours a day watching a painting.”
    “ Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell
you, Barton,” Marjorie said.
    Again Gaines’s eyes dropped to the
tablecloth. He spoke quietly to Darnell: “I don’t expect you to be
on duty every day. Just for the duration of the party.”
    “ That’s what I don’t get. Why should he
try for it in a houseful of people? What’s to prevent him from
stealing it another time?”
    “ Nothing. But it’s his flamboyance that
worries me. He’s frequently committed his thefts on the opening day
of a museum or gallery display. It’s his twisted sense of
vengeance.”
    Darnell drank some Scotch. “So having or not
having a party doesn’t really matter.”
    “ No. We thought…well, our friend Julian
Lakehurst thought…that a celebration might act as a
deterrent.”
    “ Who’s he?”
    “ An art dealer.”
    Darnell nodded. “The painting’s insured,
isn’t it?”
    “ Of course. But that doesn’t mean I
want to lose it. I’ve worked long and hard to own a work this
valuable.”
    “ How many guests will be at the
party?”
    “ About twenty-five,” Marjorie said. “A
small gathering seemed the most sensible idea.”
    “ And you know all of them?”
    She smiled coldly. “I’m hardly in the habit
of inviting strangers to our home, Mr. Darnell. We’re having family
and friends over. Some are Barton’s coworkers.”
    “ I meant will anyone be bringing dates
you’ve never met.”
    “ Not unless they want their spouses to
kill them,” Gaines said wryly. “I can disabuse you of the idea that
Marchand will be one of the ladies’ escorts.”
    Darnell nodded. “All right. I’ll take the job
if you‘re still offering.”
    Gaines looked at Marjorie again. She glanced
at Darnell unfavorably, as though he’d betrayed her by not
refusing, then returned her husband a look of resignation and
assent.
    “ I expect you to be discreet, Mr.
Darnell,” she said. “Our guests mustn’t think they’re getting the
fish-eye.”
    “