Gilletto was no Da Vinci, but he’d captured enigmatic. She checked the Purchase Order for the Seller Name: NICHOLAS BORGHESE. No doubt a relative of Olivad, but how close? The P.O. was marked ESTATE SALE. Somebody was dead. BUYER ESTIMATE: Opening Bid–$25.00.
She was partly right, minus a grand or two. Arlington said she could have anything she wanted for opening bid price up to $100.00, so why not?
***
The Excelsior Hotel had a tenth story outdoor patio mistakenly called The Tea Room, but for obvious reasons. Lithe, lovely young men congregated at small round tables with colorful umbrellas, speaking of the newest cultural exhibit in Buenos Aires, while older men wandered around looking over the merchandise and the wives shopped the potters and beaders hawking their wares on the street.
John Stafford, tight end out of U.S.C., threaded his steps through the oglers and droolers and sat at a corner table with the sleekest swan near the pond.”I’ll have a beer, and my friend here—whatever he’s drinking,” he said as he attached a flash to his camera.
“It’s alright, David, he has an appointment,” Nicholas Borghese assured the waiter who’d nodded his question about the intruder.
“I’ll get right to the point,” John said.
“How American of you. Alright. You want to know what he was like? As most young men, Olivad came back from the Great War an old man. And like many sensitive men, he turned to the arts for solace and self-exploration. He tried them all— prose, poetry, and painting—to dispel his demons. And discovered singing and dancing.”
Nicholas brushed a wayward black curl from his forehead with a slender finger as freshly polished as his pointed-toed ankle boots, struck a pensive pose, and stared at the sea. “He was beautiful. Slim. Naturally muscular. I suppose that’s why the cameras loved him, and he loved to see the yearning in other people’s eyes. Envy in others, depending on whether they wanted to possess him or learn from him, was his weakness then. He could please anyone, but always pleased himself. Always.”
John snapped Nicholas’ photo. He wouldn’t need it, but a little flattery went a long way. “You resemble you brother so much, you could be his twin.”