No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) by Peggy A. Edelheit Read Free Book Online Page A

was pitching here: a visual impression for my publisher. Only the way Sandra reacted it was looking more like it was falling on doubtful publishing ears.
    I was running out of reasons. I dug deeper: a last-ditch effort. “Have you ever been disappointed with me?”
    I realized my snafu the minute it escaped my lips.
    “I meant, have you ever been disappointed with the end result, you know, the final version of any of my books?”
    There was silence at the other end of the line.
    We went way back as friends. She’d seen me through the death of my husband and my world filled with doubt. Although tough when she needed to be, Sandra would go to bat for me with the publisher in my best interests.
    “You got lucky,” was all she finally admitted.
    But I heard the smile in her words and kept pushing.
    “Listen, Sandra. I have this gut feeling that this will be an intriguing mystery once I solve it. Trust me.”
    “Hmm…” was all she said.
    Ah, I sensed her weakening: leaning in my direction.
    “Besides, guess who is here to help?” I said excitedly.
    “Who?” Sandra asked somewhat skeptical.
    “Martha, Hazel and Betty!”
    The minute those names were out of my mouth I heard her intake of breath on the other end of the line.
    Uh-oh! I may have overplayed my hand. She knew there would be trouble ahead with “The Senior Special” helping me out on any mystery. I had pushed the envelope too far.
    “Now, Sam, you have to understand…”
    When Stephen died Sandra fought with the publisher to give me some time then she guided me back to writing.
    “Sandra, I know I’m pushing our friendship, but…”
    “Okay, I’ve got your back. Just don’t disappoint me.”
    “You won’t regret…” I was talking to a dead line .

 
     
     
    Chapter 25
    Lofty Matters
     
     
    Alone up in the gallery loft, I paged through the art magazines of some auction houses, taking note of numerous paintings coming up for sale. Easily viewed online, private bids could then be made there, or you participated via phone during their live auction. A person was designated to handle your call, while you made live competing bids until you either dropped out or won the bid to own the painting.
    It was both fascinating and informative. The quality and quantity of the artists and their paintings were surprising. I sat back in my chair looking from one of the catalogs then over to my laptop. One catalog was Du Mouchelles. They were in the art business since 1927. There were others too.
    They all sold assorted items such as vases, statues, clocks, silver, but what interested me the most were the paintings. Several I was familiar with and personally liked: Pissaro, Moreau, Blanchard, Cortes, Popoff, Loiseau and Delacroix. All were available just a fingertip away online. But after giving it some thought. It didn’t surprise me. Everything was now online. So why not art? These glossy catalogs proved all you needed was money.
    …It’s always about the money, isn’t it?
    I glanced through the loft’s railing. The only heavy-hitter paintings I’d noticed weren’t in this gallery, but in the Worths’ home. Their gallery paintingswere lower in price, encompassing artists who might or might not be immediately recognizable and affordable to the average walk-in buyer: local artists, both new and established ones.
    Display what moves inventory and makes money: smart.
    Many art lovers invested in new artists, hoping their pieces became more valuable. I guess it was a much wiser investment than stuffing money under a mattress. I paged through the catalogues, bypassing the antiques, furniture and collectibles, mainly interested in the paintings.
    Then I sat back thinking, which was hazardous. It was both my friend and my enemy. I tended to overthink a situation. But that’s the way my mind worked as I followed it through down to each and every detail that kept bothering me until I made peace with it and shoved it off to the side as useless or took written