“No. She wants it shipped to her condo in Manhattan instead. I already talked to Finn and Gunnar. They’ll be crating everything up tomorrow and sending it out.”

“Excellent,” Bennett said, tucking in her shirt. “Who bought the Sobieski?”

“Clay…crap, I forgot his name.” Lisa turned around and began riffling through some papers on the desk. “You met him a few weeks ago. He was in right before we closed. Tall, skinny, slick-backed hair. Kind of pompous. Tiny mustache.”

“Paxton.”

“What?” Lisa said, turning around.

“His name is Clay Paxton,” Bennett said, fastening her belt. “He’s a lawyer uptown, has a bunch of rich clients, travels to Martha’s Vineyard on the weekend. Looking into buying a yacht. Blah, blah, blah.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Lisa said, laughing. “You talked to him for like three minutes that night.”

“Yes, well, I think he was trying to impress me.”

“Talk about barking up the wrong tree.”

Bennett gave Lisa a wink and moved closer to the desk. “So, what else is going on? I know I have two auctions to watch tonight—right?”

“Yes, you do.” Lisa moved around the desk to the array of flat-screen computer monitors mounted above it. She slid the chair out of the way and pointed to the monitor on the lower left. “I’ve set everything up for the auction in Vancouver on this one. We’re already registered, and the catalog is right under the screen, bookmarked with the lots you were interested in. Luckily, they’re low numbers, so you won’t have to wait long before they come up.”

“That’s good.”

“The Sydney auction is over here,” Lisa said, tapping on the screen on the right. “The same thing goes. Catalog is under the monitor, and pages are marked, but given the time change, Sydney won’t be starting until two in the morning our time.”

“All right. That means I should have plenty of time to get to the warehouse, pick out a few new pieces to replace the ones you sold, and get back here before the first gavel drops in Sydney. I’m assuming you already told Gunnar to stop at the warehouse before he comes in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, he knows. He has to grab some packaging and crating material anyway, so when he gets that, he’ll bring back whatever you pick out tonight.”

“Seems like you all have everything under control.”

“That’s what you pay us for.”

“That’s not the only thing I pay you for,” Bennett said, pulling on her suit jacket. “So, is that it?”

“No, there’s one more thing,” Lisa said, motioning toward the center monitor. “Take a look.”

Bennett walked around the desk and grimaced. “Why, pray tell, is there a four-foot penis on that screen?”

“Because you received an email from Pierre Bouchard this morning. He wanted to tell you he has a client looking to get his hands on a couple of Toulouse-Lautrec watercolors.”