Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4) by Matthew Hattersley (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

in her jaw and shoulders. “Of course, here you go.” She pulled the phone from out of her handbag and handed it to him. “Can’t be too careful. Don’t want every cat burglar in the country knowing how much money is hanging on your walls.”

“Indeed,” Hugo replied, frowning at the flip-top burner phone in his palm.

“A temporary phone. While I’m in Spain on business.” She fixed him dead in the eyes. Serious face. “I’m an art lover, Mr Torres. Here to appreciate the wonder it brings and perhaps buy some pieces also. I like to keep distractions to the minimum so my sensibilities are not eroded by social media and silly gaming apps.”

He nodded, satisfied with her response. “Please. After you.” He stepped aside to allow her to enter, before closing the heavy door behind them. She waited in the cool white corridor, featureless but for an enormous canvas along the wall to her right. A Picasso, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“You like?” Hugo asked, joining her in front of the painting, a swirling outlandish composition but still discernible as a bowl of oranges and a gold jug.

“Who doesn’t?” she whispered. “Always was a keen lover of Cubist art.”

“Oh?” Hugo half-turned her way. “But this piece is from Picasso’s Surrealism period, painted some years after he moved away from Cubism.”

A breath froze in Acid’s chest. She swallowed back, painful on her dry throat, the action making an audible squelching sound that didn’t help the situation.

“Of course it is,” she trilled, leaning into Hugo and resting her hand on his forearm. “Just testing you. Although to be fair, the old masters aren’t my cup of tea. I always say I like sculpture and artefacts as ancient as possible, and hanging art as modern as possible. I feel the juxtaposition created by, say one of Hirst’s Spin Paintings, hanging alongside an ancient spear from the Hadza tribe is incredibly powerful. The old and the new. The brutal and the bold. Fantastic.” She bowed her head, watching Hugo out of the corner of one eye as he nodded in agreement. The words had spilled out of her fast and loose, a lifetime of thinking on her feet preparing her well for moments such as this. But, shit. She had to be more careful.

“Would you like a drink while you wait for Mr Delgado?”

She was about to respond (hell yes, she needed a drink), when a noisy commotion at the far end of the hallway stopped her. A woman appeared from around the corner and staggered towards them. But as she got closer Acid could see she was younger than she first appeared, no more than eighteen, if that. She was dressed in a short red dress that clung tight to her slight frame and which showed off an array of round purple bruises mottling her thighs which looked suspiciously like fingerprints. Her dark hair was scraped back into a high ponytail and it was clear she was under the influence of something, either drink or drugs. Probably both.

“Ajuta-ma,” she slurred, leaning against the wall to keep upright and holding a spindly arm out to Acid. “Help me.”

She’d only travelled a few steps down the corridor when a man appeared behind her and grabbed her by the tops of her arms, guiding her forcefully back the way she’d come. He looked up and saw Acid and Hugo before holding up a hand in silent apology.

“Oh dear,” Hugo chimed, through a tight smile, the anger in his voice apparent despite his attempts at flippancy. “One of our other guests seems to have overindulged a little.”

Acid watched as the man dragged the poor girl around the corner and out of sight. “Is she okay?” she asked, feigning shock. “She didn’t look well.”

Hugo placed a hand on her arm. “She is fine. As I say, she is I believe the girlfriend of one of Mr Delgado’s business partners and has had too much to drink. That is all. Not your concern.”

She raised her head, smiling sweetly at him. “Of course. These young girls, hey? They shouldn’t drink if they can’t handle it.”

“Indeed. Please, follow me. Mr Delgado will join you as soon as he is able.”

Once more she felt his hand on her back, but guiding her more firmly now as he directed her down to the end of the corridor where they took a right, going in the opposite direction from where the girl had come from. They walked in silence to the end of this corridor, where it opened out into a vast room with one wall made entirely of glass and the remaining three displaying five huge canvases. Pride of place, on the wall adjacent to where she was standing, hung San Miguel’s Campo Complementarios Número Tres. She’d spent most of the afternoon doing her research on the piece (or rather, Danny had taken her through it, what she’d need to know) and was confident now she wouldn’t be caught out.

“There it is,” she purred with delight. “My god. What an impressive piece.”

She turned, noticing Hugo had left her side and was standing by the wall in front of a large antique chest, on top of which stood an impressive selection of spirits and wines. Beside the chest on a silver stand, a silver bucket was filled with crushed ice and three bottles of Champagne. As she watched on, Hugo slid a bottle from its icy bath and held it up for her to see.

“Would you like some?”

She squinted at the label. “A drop of Moët? Absolutely, darling. Perfecto.” Relaxing into her role as Gabriella, she accepted the glass of fizz with a flirtatious wink and gulped down a mouthful. “What an amazing space.”

Leaving Hugo by the door, she sashayed into the centre of the room where three enormous couches in tan leather had been set up in a U shape facing the walls.

“Please, sit. Enjoy the art,” Hugo said, backing out of the room. “Mr Delgado won’t be much longer.”

She mouthed thanks and gave