Eye of the Beholder by Jayne Ann Krentz

said.
    â€œMeaning?”
    â€œLook, the situation is not unlike what happens when a big business discovers that one of its employees has embezzled money from client accounts or that a hacker has gotten past its computer security. The corporation generally wants to keep things quiet because it fears the publicity of anarrest and trial. Clients and customers would question its ability to provide privacy and security.”
    Trask’s eyes narrowed. “I’m aware of how things work in the business world.”
    â€œThey aren’t that much different in the art world. McClelland sold almost exclusively to high-priced art consultants and acknowledged experts who bought art and antiques for their own exclusive clientele.”
    â€œI think I’m getting the picture,” Trask said. “No so-called expert likes to admit that he or she was fooled by a series of good forgeries.”
    â€œExactly. Bad for business. After the McClelland incident everyone involved had a vested interest in keeping as quiet as possible. Reputations and careers were at stake. McClelland, of course, counted on that attitude. There was no investigation, no trial, and no arrest. Just lots of rumors and innuendos.”
    â€œRumors and innuendos, I’m told, in which your name figured prominently.”
    She folded her arms beneath her breasts and angled her chin. “Actually, my name got savaged by a particularly nasty bit of insider gossip in a very influential trade magazine called
Twentieth-Century Artifact
. The idiot reporter who wrote the piece did so without having all the facts. He managed to imply that I was actively involved in selling the forgeries at McClelland.”
    â€œWhat happened to the forger?”
    â€œMcClelland?” Alexa glanced morosely at
Dancing Satyr
. “Disappeared and left me holding the bag.”
    Trask said nothing for a while, but the calculating look in his eyes told Alexa that he was processing the information she had given him.
    He stirred eventually, sliding one palm along the polished veneer of a lacquered cabinet in an absent caress. “Can any part of your story be verified?”
    It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to produce a careless shrug. “It’s possible that one or two of McClelland’s clients, those who are grateful to me for saving them from buying a lot of very expensive, very fake early-twentieth-century art and antiques, might be willing to talk off the record.”
    â€œOnly one or two?”
    â€œOnly one or two listened when I warned them not to trust McClelland. Edward Vale was among that rather select group. That’s why he—”
    The Valkyrie-like figure of Glenda Blaine bustled up out of the stairwell before Alexa could finish.
    â€œThere you are, sir.” Glenda hurried toward him down the hall. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. One of the Phoenix TV stations sent out a camera crew. I’ve scheduled an interview with you standing in front of those big marble birds at the foot of the lobby staircase in five minutes.”
    Trask did not take his eyes off Alexa. “I’m a little busy at the moment, Glenda.”
    â€œSir, I worked very hard to pull in this interview for you.” Glenda gave him a reproachful glare. “You told me you wanted all the media coverage you could get.”
    Trask’s jaw tightened. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
    â€œI need you to be there
now,
sir.”
    To Alexa’sastonishment, Trask inclined his head in an acquiescent gesture.
    â€œAll right, Glenda. I’ll come down.”
    Apparently satisfied, Glenda swung around and strode off toward the stairs.
    Trask looked at Alexa. “You and I aren’t finished. When this reception is over, I’ll take you home. I want to talk to you.”
    Without waiting for her to acknowledge the order, Trask turned and walked toward the stairs.
    Alexa waited until she was alone