“I guess I’m missing the reason why either you or Daughtry think any of this is your business,” Chapman said.

“Understandable. That’s why, as I said a few minutes ago, I wasn’t sure what to do about it when Daughtry called me in the middle of the night. Both Bryan and I were involved in a number of art deals with Deni. She and I recently bought some paintings at auction together,” he said, switching his attention to Mike. “You’re the skeptic, Detective. Check with Christie’s. Back in May we were partners on some minor Impressionist works that sold pretty reasonably.”

“Lowell’s in on this, too?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. But a lot of the things we bought- well, it just made more sense for Deni to keep them for us, to store them until we decided whether we were going to hang on to them or sell them to clients. I mean, Lowell had warehouses and guards and insurance. Even their apartment was a safer place to keep artworks than any temporary facility she and I could arrange. We were lovers, after all, Detective. I didn’t have to get a signed pledge from Deni when I agreed to let her hold on to something we bought as partners. She wasn’t trying to screw me out of anything, if you’ll forgive the expression.”

“So you think some of the art you own is being spirited away by Lowell?”

“Possibly. And I don’t even mean intentionally. Lowell doesn’t have any reason to know the details about Deni’s latest acquisitions. I just think there should be some way for me to have a look at what he’s got before he ships it out of town or abroad. I have papers and sales receipts for everything. I’m not asking you to get in the middle of deciding what’s mine and what isn’t. My lawyer will handle all that. He wanted me to, well, to exaggerate to you a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

Wrenley was fidgeting now. “I called my lawyer to ask him to get involved this morning. The problem is, of course, that Lowell won’t let me inside to look, neither at the gallery nor the apartment-still their home, certainly. It was my lawyer’s idea to come to you, Miss Cooper. Look, I don’t want to lie to you, but he suggested I swear to you that I know Lowell Caxton has got property in the gallery that belongs to Deni and to me. That perhaps then you could intercede and go in with a warrant to search for things.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Frankly, I have no idea what Deni did with some of the paintings. I can’t ‘swear’ where they are-that would simply be a logical guess, but not necessarily true. Bryan Daughtry’s been very helpful. I’m going to go through his warehouse, too. Perhaps some of the things I’m looking for are stored with him.”

“Can you give me an inventory, a list of the works you have a claim to?” I asked.

“I don’t have one prepared right now, but I can have it drawn up within a day or two.” Wrenley’s hands were on his knees, and he looked down at the floor before he spoke again. “When you’re in love with a woman as young and healthy as Deni, you just never think that she’s going to walk out the door and… never, never come back. The business side of our partnership was the last thing it occurred to me to worry about during this past week. That afternoon, I just waited and waited for her to meet me for lunch-”

“The day she disappeared? She was on her way to meet you?” Chapman asked.

“Perhaps I have surprised you after all, Detective. I assumed you’d know that, from the housekeeper or someone you’d interviewed. Didn’t you ask me that the first time we met? I was sure you had.”

Chapman seemed embarrassed that he didn’t know one of the fairly basic facts about Denise Caxton’s last day. “The guys who work in her garage have her going out with the car early in the morning. No one else we talked to seemed to know much about her plans for the day. What did you do when she didn’t show up for lunch?”

“I waited half an hour. Tried her at home, in the car, at the gallery. No luck. Check with the maître d’ at Jean-Georges-I thought you would have done that by now. I must have tied up his phone for twenty minutes calling around to find Deni.”

“Were you upset? Call the police to look for her?”

“No, I suppose the maître d’ would also tell you I wasn’t very upset, so there’s no point pretending. Nothing from which a couple of martinis couldn’t distract me. I’d half expected she might stand me up that day. We’d had a bit of a tiff the week before.”

“Business?”

“Not business at all. And in retrospect, not exactly pleasure, either.” Wrenley looked me in the eye. “I told you when I met you the first time that Deni and I dated other people. Well, I ran into someone in Paris, a woman who’d been recently widowed and was doing the grand tour to announce that her mourning period was officially over. We spent a weekend together, which there was no need for Deni to find out about. Unfortunate coincidence, she turned out to be a friend of Deni’s.”

“Marina Sette?” Chapman asked.

“ Bravo, Detective! Forty-eight hours in a small hotel on the Left Bank, and tout New York seems to know all about it. I know Marina told Deni, and that’s what had her so mad at me. Deni didn’t mind what she didn’t know about, but Marina really pushed her nose into it.”

“Was it over between you and Deni?”

“Of course not. But it was cool, to say the least. She made a point of letting me know that she was spending a lot of time with Preston Mattox. But that was just to get back at me.”

“You don’t think she was in love with him?”

“Deni was an intensely physical creature, Ms. Cooper. She’d once made the mistake of telling me, when she was unusually giddy in the middle of a rather vigorous round of lovemaking, that there wasn’t enough Viagra in all the laboratories in the country to get Preston through another month of his relationship with Deni.”

Every time I was on the verge of liking her a bit more, I’d hear something that would cause me to take three mental giant steps in reverse. No point in exploring with Wrenley whether his rival had other redeeming features.

“When she didn’t show up at the restaurant for lunch and I couldn’t find out where she was, I thought that all she needed was some time to get over what I had done with Marina. She’d only graced me with the luncheon meeting because we had some business decisions to make and because she wouldn’t accept an evening date with me. She already had dinner plans with Mattox.” I didn’t think I had displayed any expression, but Wrenley looked from me to Mike. “Surely you knew that, didn’t you? Preston would have had more to worry about than I did when she didn’t show up for that date.

“I guess my trip down here wasn’t altogether useless,” Wrenley said. “I do hope you’ll give some thought to looking into why Lowell Caxton is in such a hurry to close his gallery.”

I had no intention of telling Wrenley what we would do next. “I’d suggest you let your lawyer go ahead with whatever action he thinks will protect your business interests as well.” I stood up to see him out. “Thanks for letting us know about it.”

“Do you still have any contact with Marina Sette?” Mike asked.

“Nothing directly. But I hear about her from time to time.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Couple of months ago.”

“She call you when she came to New York?”

“You mean yesterday?”

Chapman didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yeah, yesterday.”

“No, but she called Bryan Daughtry. He told me that last night when he telephoned to let me know about Lowell Caxton. Bryan said that Marina had stopped by the new gallery on Twenty-second Street to see him. Probably to find out if he’d heard any rumors about whether Deni had left a will, or any instructions about who was to get which paintings.”

I thought she had told us she detested Daughtry. “Why did she go to him?”

“She could hardly go to Lowell, considering their relationship, and she wasn’t talking to me.”