Chapter 4 - Richard Vale Comes to Collect
Richard Vale arrived at Laurent House at eight the next morning.
He did not ask permission.
At sixty-nine, Richard possessed the kind of wealth that made doors open before he touched them.
Three attorneys accompanied him.
So did the general counsel of Vale Capital.
Victoria watched from Laurent’s upstairs office as her father crossed the gallery.
“He looks calm,” Henry said.
“He’s most dangerous when he looks calm.”
Richard entered.
His eyes went first to Victoria.
“You ignored me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you told me to steal evidence.”
One attorney shifted.
Richard smiled faintly.
“I told you to bring me property bearing my name.”
“It belongs to an investigation.”
“Nothing has been established.”
Special Agent Mills stood by the window.
“Mr. Vale.”
Richard looked at her.
“Agent.”
“You understand the painting has been voluntarily secured pending title review.”
“I understand Laurent House is creating unnecessary spectacle.”
Laurent replied, “Victoria created the spectacle.”
Victoria winced.
He was right.
Richard looked at his daughter’s face.
“What happened?”
She said nothing.
Henry did.
“She threw my cleaning water across the gallery.”
Richard glanced at Henry’s uniform.
Then back at Victoria.
“Why?”
She heard the answer forming automatically.
He was in my way.
Instead she said, “Because I behaved like an entitled coward.”
Richard’s expression changed.
“Don’t perform guilt for strangers.”
Victoria stared.
“I’m not.”
“Good. Then come home.”
“No.”
The word visibly angered him.
He turned toward Henry.
“Mr. Bennett.”
“Richard.”
“You have spent twenty years blaming me for your professional failures.”
Henry said, “You collected eighteen million dollars on a painting that never left the building.”
Richard smiled.
“That claim was paid after an independent investigation.”
“Built on Nathan’s shipping records.”
“Are you an insurance attorney now?”
“No.”
Henry stepped closer.
“I was the man who packed 17-B before it disappeared.”
Richard’s smile weakened.
“I know exactly what marks Elias put behind that canvas.”
Special Agent Mills observed silently.
Richard looked toward the secured evidence room.
“The painting is owned by Braxton Heritage Trust.”
Miriam Shaw answered.
“Braxton purchased it eighteen months ago from a Liechtenstein intermediary.”
“Yes.”
“Which acquired it from a Geneva holding company.”
“Yes.”
“Which traces to a former Vale Art Holdings adviser.”
Richard’s attorneys shifted.
Richard remained calm.
“Art markets have chains of ownership.”
Miriam replied, “This one appears to form a circle.”
Victoria watched her father’s jaw tighten.
She asked, “Where did the insurance money go?”
Richard turned.
“Excuse me?”
“Eighteen million.”
“Vale Art Holdings.”
“And then?”
“Investments.”
“Which investments?”
“This is not a family accounting meeting.”
“It funded the foundation, didn’t it?”
Silence.
Victoria felt sick.
The Vale Arts Foundation had launched in 2007 with a $25 million endowment.
Her mother, Camille Vale, had cut the ribbon.
Victoria had spent fifteen years praising that endowment as the beginning of the family’s philanthropic legacy.
“Dad.”
Richard’s voice cooled.
“Be careful.”
“That money built the foundation.”
“Many sources built the foundation.”
“Was the insurance money one?”
He looked directly at her.
“Yes.”
The admission stunned the room.
Victoria whispered, “You knew the painting still existed.”
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid of the envelope?”
“I’m afraid of irresponsible people creating false narratives.”
Henry laughed.
Richard’s eyes sharpened.
Henry said, “That is almost exactly what Nathan told me in 2006.”
Richard ignored him.
He turned back to Victoria.
“Your mother spent the last ten years of her life building that foundation.”
“Don’t use Mom.”
“She believed in it.”
“Did she know where the money came from?”
Richard’s silence lasted half a second too long.
Victoria saw it.
“What did she know?”
“Not this.”
“Then what?”
Richard looked at Agent Mills.
“This discussion is over.”
He turned to leave.
Henry said, “What was Elias threatening to expose besides the painting?”
Richard stopped.
Henry continued.
“He told me your problem was where the money went.”
No response.
“Where did it go, Richard?”
Richard turned slowly.
“You spent twenty years waiting for a conspiracy because accepting failure would mean accepting yourself.”
Henry’s face tightened.
Richard continued.
“Elias used you because you worshiped him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Richard looked almost sympathetic.
“It’s the only one you deserve.”
He left.
Victoria followed him into the corridor.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
“Tell me now.”
“Tell you what?”
“Whether Elias left Laurent House alive.”
Richard stared at his daughter.
Then said, very quietly, “Do not force me to choose between protecting this family and protecting you.”
Victoria felt cold.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It is advice.”
He entered the elevator.
Before the doors closed, he added, “If locker 604 opens, you will learn things about your mother you are not prepared to know.”
The doors shut.
Victoria stood motionless.
Henry had followed far enough to hear.
She looked at him.
“My mother died nine years ago.”
“I know.”
“She had nothing to do with Elias.”
Henry said nothing.
Victoria’s anger rose.
“Say it.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not what your face says.”
Henry exhaled.
“There was a woman Elias met three times during the month before he disappeared.”
Victoria felt her heartbeat change.
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
“What do you know?”
“Her initials.”
Victoria waited.
“C.V.”
Camille Vale.
May you like
Her mother.
And suddenly locker 604 was no longer only about Richard.
