Read The Art Whisperer (An Alix London Mystery) for Free Online Page A

Some were abstractedly fingering their biscotti, but nobody was eating. Alfie was leafing through the Desert Sun newspaper without really reading it. The others were silent and frowning, sunk in their own thoughts. Neither Clark nor Mrs. B had shown up yet.
    When several minutes had passed without anyone saying anything, Alix, having grown uncomfortable, said: “People? Is anything wrong? Has something happened?”
    “Don’t ask,” Alfie said, without looking up from his paper.
    “Yes, ‘something’ has happened,” Drew said with an arid laugh.
    “There are a few organizational changes being considered,” Prentice said.
    “Ha.” Drew again.
    Another thirty seconds of silence, and then Madge, whom Alix already knew to be an eager gossiper, couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Oh, there’s no reason to keep the poor woman in suspense. It’s not exactly a secret.”
    “And if it were, you wouldn’t exactly be the one to keep it, would you?” Drew said meanly.
    Over the past few days, Alix had chatted often with the curators and had learned a lot about them. From her standpoint, Drew Temple was the least likable of the bunch, a dour, unhelpful, vaguely reptilian man with a long nose that drooped at the tip, like a cartoon witch’s, and a thin-lipped, extraordinarily wide gash of a mouth that made her think of a Muppet, but without the sunny disposition. He said little, but what he did say was unfailingly critical or negative, and delivered with a condescension she found immensely irritating. Behind the tiresome, rote carping, she sensed someone who was keeping a tight lid on a long, meticulously maintained list of bottled-up grievances.
    His comment had no effect on his wife, who explained the morning’s bombshell clearly and succinctly: The Photography department had already been scrubbed and its curator dumped—that was now history. But beyond that, Prints and Drawings (Alfie’s department) was to be combined with Paintings (Prentice’s department) into a single department of Paintings and Drawings; and Decorative Arts (Drew’s department) and Costumes and Furnishings (Madge’s department) would become a single department of Costumes and Decorative Arts.
    Alix nodded. “I see.” No wonder they all seemed so worried. “So then, what used to be four departments will become two.”
    “Clever woman,” Drew observed. “Not much gets by her.”
    Alix ignored him. “Are there only going to be two curator-level positions then?”
    Not even Madge seemed eager to answer that question, and it was Prentice who finally did. “Yes, only two. According to Clark, Madge will be the Costumes and Decorative Arts curator, and Drew will become assistant curator responsible for the decorative arts segment. As for Paintings and Drawings, it has yet to be decided as to whether Alfie or I will assume the mantle.”
    Alix stared at him. Was he serious? Has yet to be decided? Prentice Vandervere or Alfie ?She liked Alfie, she had nothing at all against Alfie, but compared to Prentice . . . !
    Alfred Carpenter Wellington, she had learned (from Alfie himself), had been born to wealth and status, the scion of an old Virginia family. He had done well in school, but everything had come too easily and he had grown lazy and bored. He was sent to Yale, where he partied and enjoyed himself, working all the way up to a PhD in art history without expending much time or effort. After that he’d taught at an exclusive Connecticut prep school for a while but didn’t enjoy it, and quit. He’d married an aspiring singer who later joined a rock band that came up with a huge hit. From then on she had been a celebrity and Alfie had shrunk into a sort of hanger-on. It wasn’t long before he’d started drinking. One too many of his scenes in public soon led to a divorce. From there things continued to go downhill. He lost most of his money in the stock market crash of 1987, and had taken on a succession of jobs he couldn’t hold on to.