CHAPTER 21
THE ASSISTANT
I hadn’t expected Mr. Vale to be quite so hands-on with the renovations, but there he was, sitting on the floor in a pair of faded jeans, repainting a baseboard. I put down the bag I was holding and took a moment to study him. He looked younger in casual clothes. The suit added five years.
“Did you get them?” he asked.
“I got them.”
Several pieces of art had been ruined by the flood, erotic poses drawn in black ink. The artist lived in New York, and she’d spent the past four days recreating what had been lost. I’d just travelled across the city to collect them. The carpet installers were due at two p.m., and then we’d need to put the furniture back. Upstairs, the kitchen was back in action, the refrigerators had been restocked, and the laundry was being sent t
