you can do, though. I don’t know how you can help me. He says Daddy has to authenticate them.”
16
It took Jack as long to persuade Anna to sit still and do nothing until she heard from us as it had to convince her to let me and Bill come along in the first place. As soon as she finished her story she decided we couldn’t, in fact, help her. So she wanted to help herself. She wanted to call her father. She wanted her mother to call her father. She wanted to call Pete Tsang. She wanted to call the police. She wanted to race up to Doug Haig’s gallery with a meat cleaver.
“That’s why Dr. Yang fired me,” Jack said. “We thought it was just because he found out you had the paintings.”
“Haig called Daddy. He was afraid I wouldn’t, that I’d be a martyr no matter what he threatened me with. ‘Like your idiotic husband,’ he said. ‘Two self-righteous peas in a two-bit pod.’” She flushed crimson. “So he called Daddy, and Daddy called me. We had a big fight but I couldn’t lie to him. I guess that’s when he fired you.”
“He’s not really going to do it, is he?” I asked.
She didn’t answer that directly. “Haig says he has until tomorrow morning to decide.”
“If he doesn’t,” Bill asked, “is there someone else Haig could go to?” Jack and I looked at him. “Well, I’m assuming that, much as he’d love to destroy Anna’s career because he’s just a mean SOB, he’d rather get the paintings authenticated and make a fortune.”
“Maybe there’s someone,” Anna said. “I don’t know.”
Jack said, “There aren’t a lot of experts in that area, people who really know Chau’s work. There’s Clarence Snyder, in Chicago—I studied under him, he was on my committee. But he’d spot them for fakes, or at best, if they’re really good, he’d give them a question mark. No, Dr. Yang’s perfect. He’s the biggest name, plus he’s in a corner.”
“He can’t even be considering it,” I said. “He just can’t. This is exactly what he was afraid of. It’s why he hired you. Someone making a big profit off of Chau’s reputation. And for that someone to be Haig, and for him, Dr. Yang, for him to make it possible by
“I said that,” Anna said. “Not the part about Chau’s reputation, and him hiring Jack—I didn’t know that. But I told him to call Haig’s bluff. I’m such a nobody. What could it matter?” Mrs. Yang stirred, but Anna frowned and her mother said nothing. “But Daddy was so mad. He didn’t hear a word I said. He just told me to stay here and do nothing until he called me. That was last night. But I couldn’t do nothing. I just couldn’t. I didn’t sleep, not at all. When I called you this morning, Jack, I was thinking … I don’t know why. I don’t know what I thought you could do. I just…” She trailed off. “I just needed someone to help me.”
There was silence. In it, I heard my own voice say, “We will.”
* * *
So there we were, Jack and Bill and I, back in Bill’s car, rolling through Queens, trying to find a place where we could think. “There’s a diner over there.” Jack pointed from the backseat.
“Pro,” Bill said. “Coffee.”
“Mrs. Yang’s osmanthus tea didn’t do anything for you?” I asked.
“For me, either,” Jack admitted.
“And just when I was beginning to think you really were Chinese,” I said. “Anyway, veto. Walls have ears.”
“Your paranoia knows no bounds?” Jack asked. “We’re in the middle of Queens. Maybe you’re famous in Flushing, but me, I’m pretty well unknown around here.”
“First: I don’t believe you’re unknown anywhere. Second:
“You have such a vivid way of making your points.” Jack sat back with a sigh.
“Compromise,” Bill said. “We stop at the diner, pick up coffee, and sit in the park. Unless you think the trees have ears.”
“Tree ears,” Jack said helpfully. “Those black mushrooms. My mother makes soup from them.”
So with two coffees, a tea, and a giant cherry cheese Danish—Bill had apparently not had breakfast—we repaired to Flushing Meadow Park, where in the middle of a fresh spring morning you can sit on a lawn with toddlers chasing dogs, dogs chasing Frisbees, and, if you’re lucky, no one chasing you.
“Okay, bigmouth,” Jack said to me as he peeled back the tab on his coffee lid. “You told her we’d help her. What’s the plan?”
“Me? You’re the one who said, ‘Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.’”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten that.” He turned to Bill. “How come you didn’t make any promises?”
“I never do.”
I said, “That way when he saves the day it’s more of a wow because no one expects it.”
“But you do have a plan?” Jack asked.
“Nope.” Bill took a bite of the Danish, which was the size of his head. “Don’t you?”
“What, a plan? To quote you, nope.”
“Come on, use your imagination,” I said.
Jack pondered. “Well, how about this? You could distract Doug Haig with your mind-blowing legs while Bill breaks into the gallery and resteals the Chaus.”
“You’ve never seen my legs.”
“You said to use my imagination.”
