LITMIR.BIZ

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gallery this morning.’

      Tasha spun away from the sink, dripping foamy suds over the kitchen floor. ‘You’re kidding me? What did he want?’

      Lexi refused to meet her sister’s inquisitive gaze. ‘Usual stuff. He’s sorry, he didn’t mean to hurt me … where’s his money. You know the pattern.’ She spoke quickly, hoping her sister wouldn’t catch on.

      ‘Where’s his money? What money?’

      There was no point hiding anything from Tasha, she was too astute … which was why not telling her about taking the twenty-seven grand from the house was so stressful. ‘It turns out he surrendered a life insurance policy, which I knew nothing about. He forged my signature so he could cash it in. The official receiver’s got wind of it and wants the money returned. Twenty-seven thousand pounds.’

      ‘The little shit!’ Tasha threw the saucepan in the sink. ‘And Marcus thinks you have it? After everything he did, the guy’s lucky I don’t put a contract out on him.’

      Lexi wondered if her sister was being serious. Some of Tasha’s customers at the tattoo parlour certainly looked capable of inflicting a knee-capping.

      ‘And even if you did have his filthy ill-gained money, as if you’d give it back after what he did. He virtually bankrupted you, jeopardised your business and hooked up with a woman who could’ve auditioned for the starring role in Barbie Does Dagenham!’

      Lexi sighed. Tasha losing her rag wasn’t a surprise, but it was slightly puzzling as to why her sister was still so angry after all this time. Lexi had moved past wanting to dismember Marcus a long time ago. Well, mostly anyway. She still loathed what he’d done, the way he’d done it, but there were no active emotions left, just an overwhelming sense of sadness that settled over her when she dwelt on things too much.

      Like the day they’d first met.

      It was Valentine’s Day 2014 and she’d gone to London for an exhibition. She’d stopped off for a coffee on the South Bank and became aware of a man staring at her. The next thing she knew, he was sitting next to her, making her laugh and persuading her to join him for dinner. By the end of the evening, she was smitten. When he’d kissed her goodnight and told her she was the woman he’d been waiting for all of his life, her fate was sealed. A six-month whirlwind romance followed, filled with love, laughter and excitement. He lavished her with expensive gifts and took every opportunity to ‘flash the cash’, keen to demonstrate his wealth and back up his promises of a financially secure life. She never doubted his honesty or sincerity and ignored her sister’s concerns that he was ‘too good to be true’. They married in a registry office and for the first year everything was fine. But then he started disappearing for days on end, stressing over his used-car business and behaving strangely. He became secretive, moody and defensive when questioned. But it wasn’t until he cleaned out their savings account and ran off to Spain with his PA that she’d discovered the depth of his deception.

      Seeing him today had been hard, a test of her resolve, but it had confirmed one thing: she no longer loved Marcus. Cindy was welcome to him.

      But Tasha hadn’t finished ranting. ‘Money-laundering, scum-sucking wanker! Why the hell does he think you have his rotten money? Anyone with an ounce of sanity knows you’d never touch anything illegal.’

      Lexi decided it was time to change topic. If her left eye started twitching it would be game over.

      Although, why she hadn’t told Tasha about taking the money, she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t said anything at the time, because she’d genuinely believed the money was from the sale of her paintings. But now it looked like the money was from the insurance payout, what was her justification for continuing to keep quiet? Perhaps it was because she didn’t want to fuel her sister’s hatred of her ex-husband. Or, more likely, she didn’t want to risk Tasha’s disappointment in her. Because however she tried to justify it, she’d broken the law. She was a thief. No better than Marcus … Well, marginally better than Marcus, but equally guilty. Would her sister forgive her if she came clean? Based on her reaction to Harriette’s betrayal, she wasn’t sure.

      ‘Tasha, calm down. I told Marcus to take a hike and I explained to the investigator that I had no knowledge of the insurance policy. I’m sure once he looks into it he’ll realise I’m telling the truth, and they’ll go after Marcus and not me.’

      ‘They bloody better had. If I ever get my hands on Marcus—’

      ‘Tash, let it go.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Seriously, I’ve had enough. What with dealing with money problems, being investigated and then seeing Marcus again, I’m shattered. And I still haven’t sorted through the shipment from the Wentworth estate. I know you mean well, but can we please discuss this another time?’

      Tasha sighed. ‘Fine.’ She didn’t look happy. ‘What do you need?’

      ‘Help me sort through the shipment, and then we’ll be free to eat cake, drink liqueur and make voodoo dolls of Marcus to stick pins into. Okay?’

      ‘My kind of evening. Lead the way.’

      It was still light outside. The May sunshine was reluctant to call it a night, but Lexi flicked on the lights as they descended the stairs leading to the thermostatically controlled storage basement below the gallery. The chill tickled her skin. It was welcome after baking in a hot kitchen.

      She caught the eye of the Woman at the Window propped on an easel and smiled. She’d relocated the painting after Marcus had visited. It was a shame not to display such a beautiful piece of art, but Lexi wasn’t taking any chances. The Italian temptress was staying out of harm’s way.

      ‘Remind me again whose paintings these are?’ Tasha tore off the protective wrapping from the crates.

      ‘Eleanor Wentworth.’

      ‘Never heard of her.’

      ‘You wouldn’t have. She never sold anything during her lifetime. But she’s dead now and her daughter has asked me to evaluate her work. She’s also asked me to catalogue and value the art collection at Rubha Castle in Scotland.’

      Tasha binned the discarded sheeting. ‘Are you going to accept?’

      ‘I wish I could. The castle is centuries old. I can only imagine the art they must’ve collected over the years. But how can I with everything that’s going on at the gallery? The business won’t repair itself. Especially not now Marcus is back on the scene.’

      ‘Even more reason to accept.’ Tasha used a Stanley knife to cut through the plastic safety strips. ‘Marcus is only back to cause trouble. My advice? Get as far away from his sorry arse as possible.’

      ‘What about the gallery?’

      ‘You have an assistant, don’t you? Ask Mel to cover while you’re away. She’s more than capable.’

      It was true – Mel was proving to be a good investment. She was studying for an art degree and working part-time around her lectures. The university year had concluded, so maybe she’d be available to cover for a few weeks.

      Tasha binned the plastic strapping. ‘The break’ll do you good. Whereabouts in Scotland is it?’

      ‘Somewhere deep in the Highlands.’

      Tasha looked incredulous. ‘You’ve been offered an art gig in a castle in the Highlands and you’re not sure you want to go? Are you batshit crazy?’

      Lexi laughed. ‘Maybe.’

      ‘There’s a fee involved, right?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And the possibility of further commission if they decide to sell any of the collection?’

      ‘I guess.’

      ‘Then it’s a no-brainer. Take the job and go up to Scotland. Mel and I can run the

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