“Oh, we sort of ran into each other at an art auction.”
“An art auction?”
I didn’t mean to let my incredulity show in my voice, but it kind of slipped out. In response, Edvik twisted around in his seat to face me directly.
“Yeah. An auction. What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can appreciate art?”
Left to their own devices, the lizards powering our vehicle began veering toward the curb.
“Well . . . no. I mean, I’ve never met an art collector before. I don’t know much about art, so it surprised me, that’s all. No offense,” I said hurriedly, trying not to tense as the cab wandered back and forth in our lane.
“You asked. That’s where we met.”
The cabbie returned his attention to the road once more, casually bringing us back on course.
“Were you both bidding on the same painting?”
“No. He offered to back half my bid so I could stay in the running . . . only it wasn’t a painting. It was more what you would call literary.”
Now I was getting confused.
“Literary? But I thought you said it was an art auction.”
“It was, but there was an author there who offered to auction off an appearance in his next book. Well, I knew the author . . . I had done an interview with him in one of the ‘zines I publish . . . so I thought it would be kind of neat to see how he would do me in print. Anyway, it came down to two of us, and the bidding got pretty stiff. I thought I was going to have to drop out.”
“That’s when the financier offered to back your bid?”
“Actually, he made the offer to the other guy first. Lucky for me the other bidder wanted the appearance for his wife, so he wouldn’t go along with the deal. That’s when the Butterfly turned to me.”