Zack, who had listened with a great deal of interest, shot Quint a knowing look. "You've figured out how to trap them, and you need my fathers' help."
"If they're willing."
"All I can do is ask." Zack pulled his phone from the holster and hit 2 to call his fathers.
Brian, Zack's stepfather, answered, asking, "Is everything okay?"
It took Zack a second to realize that it was almost ten back east. "Yeah, everything's fine with me."
Brian was no fool. "But?"
"A friend of mine was involved in a murder. Not," he hastened to add, "as the killer. He was a victim too, but survived. Anyway, the police have an idea what was behind it and they need your help, if you're willing."
"In what way?" Eric, Zack's father asked, obviously listening in on the conversation. Zack knew that meant Brian had put the call on speakerphone.
"Why don't I let you talk to the detective in charge. His name is Quint Hawk." Zack handed his phone to Quint.
"Mr Kendall…" Quint listened and a small smile played on his face. "Okay then, Brian it is. As Zack said, I'm in charge of the case. We believe the victim, John Pierce, was part of an art theft ring that appears to be based here in Denver, although one of the men, an art appraiser, has offices in several cities around the country." Quint explained his idea that the appraiser would obtain a painting, keep it for a given length of time while he supposedly evaluated it, then, presumptively, return it to the owner. "But instead of the original, he gives the owner an excellent copy, keeping the original to sell on the black market or use as collateral for some criminal activity, such as financing drug deals or gun-running."
Zack heard Trev draw in a surprised breath then murmur, "John wouldn't have been involved in something like that."
Quint nodded, saying a moment later, "That was why I had your son call you." Then after he listened a few moments longer, he shot a look at Zack, one eyebrow raised in obvious surprise. "Oh really? Now why didn't he say something?" Whatever Brian replied made Quint say, "There is that. All right, I'll talk to him about it."
Oh boy. I think I just walked into this, eyes wide open—if Brian told Quint what I suspect he did. I should have figured he would, as soon as I heard Quint explain what he thought was going on.
By then Quint had ended the call. Giving Zack's phone back to him, Quint said, "Your father tells me you have a small collection of artwork that he and your father… Okay, that sounds confusing."
Zack chuckled. "Tell me about it. But I get the picture. They told you I have some etchings that they've given me over the years. Ones from their collection."
"Yes."
"Let me guess. You'd like me to contact this man and have him do an appraisal on one of them."
"Exactly. Brian suggested the Renoir."
"Possible. It was only valued at $8,000.00 the last time they had it appraised."
"Holy shit!" Trev said, whistling in shock. "You…you have artwork like that hanging in your place? That gives a whole new meaning to come up and see my etchings."
Zack laughed before asking Quint, "Will an etching work for this?"
"I'll ask…" Then he snapped his fingers. "I have a better idea. How would you like to own—at least temporarily—an original Clay Richardson?"
"Why would he be having it appraised?" Trev asked. "Richardson's too modern. Zack would have bought it from his gallery, so he'd know its value."
"Ah, true, unfortunately. Do you two have any plans at the moment?"
"Yeah, I was going to take Trev to my condo to show him my etchings," Zack replied with a straight face. Then he winked at Trev, getting a surprised look from the younger man.
"Well, that will have to wait. If you're willing, I'd like both of you to come back to the loft, so we can figure this out with Clay."
"You're on," Trev said, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "I mean, if Zack's willing."
"Sure, why not?"
*****
"I want a place like this," Trev whispered to Zack, looking around Quint and Clay's loft. "Just like this. Think I can convince them to move out?"
Quint overheard him and laughed. "Not in this lifetime."
Clay joined them, looking at Quint in question.
"This is Trev"—Quint nodded toward him—"and that's Zack. They're the young men I've been telling you about."
"Trev's young," Zack said. "I suspect I'm your age, not that it matters."
That earned him a grimace and a muttered, "I am not young," from Trev, that the other two patently ignored.
"I gather you're here for a planning session," Clay said.
"More like we have a question relating to stopping an art theft ring," Quint told him. "I'm fairly certain, from what was found on the laptop I told you about, that John Pierce was involved with it, and that's why he was murdered. My first question is, how hard would it be to copy an etching well enough to make it seem like the original?"
"It could be done, but it would take time. Why?"
Quint took a seat on the sofa, motioning for the others to sit as well. When they had—Trev and Zack in the armchairs and Clay cross-legged at the other end of the sofa—Quint said, "At this point, my lieutenant and I agree with your theory about what's going on with Alberts and company—the copying a painting and returning the fake to the owner."
''Clay nodded. "It's a trick that's been used before on unwary collectors. What etching did you have in mind?"
"I own a Renoir," Zack told him, "but it's not terribly valuable."
"Then between the low value and the fact it's an etching, I doubt they'd try to switch it for a fake."
"But," Quint said, glancing at his partner, "if Zack owned an original Clay Richardson painting…"
Clay snorted. "Now why—after what you said and the fact you all are here—did I think that might be your next suggestion?
Quint smirked. "You know me well?"
Clay just rolled his eyes before saying, "It can't be one of my most recent works. Zack would hardly buy one and immediately send it to an appraiser." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "However, there's a man I'm fairly well acquainted with who owns three of the Element series, plus one of my earlier paintings."
"Element series?" Zack asked.
"I did four paintings. They're more realistic than my usual work. That's the fourth one." Clay pointed to a painting on the wall behind Zack.
Turning to look, Zack studied it then Quint. "He did a great job of capturing the protective side of you."
"That's why he calls it Element of Protection. He painted it, damn…quite a while ago?" Quint looked at Clay for confirmation.
"Yep. When we were trying to catch Travis, and you were supposed to be the bait." Clay waggled a finger at their guests. "Don't ask. We'll be here all night trying to explain."
"But—" Trev tried for a pout, causing the others to laugh.
"Someday we'll fill you in," Clay promised. "For now, though, as I was saying, this man, Mr Miller, also owns a painting I did four or five years ago. It's now worth a great deal more than it was when he bought it, probably somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty to forty thousand dollars."
"Wow," Trev said under his breath.
"How hard would it be to copy it?" Quint asked.
"For someone used to doing that—and I'm presuming Mr Alberts has people working for him that are—it wouldn't take too long to come up with a copy that would fool almost anyone, unless they were an avid collector of my artwork. Of course, when it comes down to it, Mr Miller is."
"Even so, we wouldn't be trying to fool him, if he'd be willing to help us. Do you think he would?"
Clay nodded. "Possibly. I might have to bribe him." He pointed to Element of Protection. "He's been dying to get his hands on that to complete the quartet."
"Oh no you don't," Quint said emphatically. "That stays here. It has too many memories attached to it."
"I know," Clay said quietly, sliding over to hug Quint. "I'll think of something else, if necessa
ry."
Quint sighed, kissing Clay's temple. "I guess if that's what it takes to get him to agree, it'll be worth it."
"Clay, from what you said, Mr Miller shouldn't be the one to ask for an appraisal," Zack said. "If he owns several of your pieces, then like you said, he'd spot a fake in a New York minute, and you have to figure Alberts would know that."
"True. But…" Clay nodded. "We can make it look like he sold it."
"To me," Zack said instantly. "Since I collect art, I'd be a legitimate buyer."
Quint shook his head. "We should use one of my people."
"Do you have someone well-versed enough to pass themselves off as an art collector?"
"Now that's a good question."
"Then use me. It's not like it's a dangerous job. I hire Alberts, hand it over to him, and pick it up later—or the copy, if this works." Zack looked at Clay. "How long ago should he have sold it to me?"
"I'd say six months ago, and you're just getting around to insuring it, but you need to know for how much."
"All right. I can even take it in to him. I'm not sure I want him coming to my place. I'm not an actor and having to fake not knowing what he does for the length of time he'd spend there…" Zack shrugged.
"Perfectly understandable," Quint said. "So, if Mr Miller is willing to do this, we'll need a bill of sale, predated to…yeah, six months ago will work."
"I'll call him first thing in the morning," Clay said. "One thing he's going to want to know… How will you get the original painting back?"
"Good question. They'll obviously have to take it out of the frame to replace it with the replica, so tagging the frame won't work. Normal tracking devices that we use, even the small ones, would still be too big to hide on the canvas somewhere," Quint added, frowning.
"There's a microchip kind of tracker they use for Alzheimer patients. It can be inserted under the skin," Zack told them. "If the police can get one—along with the receiver—is there some way it could be attached to the canvas?"
"I'd have to see it first, but if it's small enough and protected enough…" Clay replied thoughtfully. "I'd say yes. I use palette knives when I want thicker layers. I don't see why it couldn't be inserted in one of those areas without doing any damage to the painting."
"One problem solved then," Quint said.
"You know," Trev said hesitantly, "they don't even have to take the canvas out of the building for you to arrest them, do they? I mean, once Alberts gives Zack the fake, and if you can use the tracker to see where he stored the original, won't you have him dead to rights?"
"For theft, yes," Quint agreed. "But that would net him only two to six years in prison if he's convicted. We want to get him and his cohorts charged with Pierce's murder and put an end to the art theft ring in the process."
"Then why are we doing this at all?" Trev asked.
"We need to connect him to the other two men, especially Mr Carter, the owner of the ad agency Pierce worked for. I have the feeling he's the ringleader. There's no other reason he'd be involved. He probably came up with the idea and brought Alberts and Reed in to implement it. And, as I told Zack's fathers, he could be the one who finds buyers for the stolen art. Or he's using the paintings as collateral for drugs or gun running."
"Alberts is hardly going to rat him out," Clay said. "So you can't arrest him while he's got the painting on the premises. You have to wait until he moves it and hope it's somewhere that will connect him to Carter."
"Exactly."
With the plans finalized as much as possible for the moment, Trev asked Clay if he could see what he was working on.
That led Quint to telling Clay he had to go take a look at Trev's kinetic sculptures sometime in the near future. "The kid's good," he said. "Or at least I think he is."
"Really?" Clay responded, before asking Trev, "Which gallery are you with?"
Biting his lip in embarrassment, Trev said very quietly, "I'm not. I might, if I'm lucky, get into an art co-op."
"How much will you get off of a sale?"
"Fifty percent."
Clay nodded, glancing at Quint, and said, "When would you be able to show me your work, Trev?"
"Whenever you want," Trev replied, trying to hide the combination of hope and fear he was feeling—hope that Clay would like what he did and fear that he'd see him as just a talented amateur at best.
Going into the studio, Clay checked his calendar. "Does tomorrow at one work? I'll need to get with Mr Miller in the morning but after that, I'm free."
"Yes, that would be perfect!"
Trev had followed Clay into the studio. Now he walked over to the artist's most recent canvas, sitting on one of the easels. "Where do you get your models?" he asked, as he studied the nearly completed painting.
"On the streets, mainly downtown or at clubs. Once in a great while, when Quint drags me to a Rockies game."
"He spends more time sketching than watching the game," Quint said, with a snort of amusement.
"I do that with birds," Trev said shyly. "To capture the feeling of flying free for my mobiles."
"At baseball games?" Zack teased.
"I could if I went to one," Trev retorted, as his glance lit on the clock in the studio. "We should get going. It's later than I thought, and you have to be at the hospital at the crack of dawn."
"And from the look of it, you're overdue for a pain pill."
"I'm okay," Trev protested. "It just aches a little."
"As your doctor, I'm telling you, you need to get home." Zack turned to look at Clay and Quint, who were smiling with amusement. "Well, he does," he huffed. "You'll call me when everything's set up, I presume?" he asked Quint.
"Yep. If you don't answer, I'll leave you a voicemail and you can call back when you get a free minute."
"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon," Clay told Trev. "Or I will if you give me your studio's address." He handed Trev a pad and a pen from the worktable. "And your number, so I can let you know when I'll be there."
Trev wrote everything down, saying, "Call me well ahead of time? I have to bus over there."
"Tell you what. I'll pick you up if you give me your home address."
"I… Thank you." Trev quickly added it to the rest before handing back the pen and pad.
"And on that note, we're leaving," Zack said, putting one hand on Trev's shoulder to steer him toward the door.
"I'll be in touch tomorrow, as I said," Quint told them.
Zack nodded. "Let's hope this works."
"Agreed, or we're back to square one."
*****
"How bad are you hurting?" Zack asked when he and Trev got down to where he'd parked the bike.
"I'm fine, damn it," Trev said tightly.
"No you're not. If I had any sense at all, I'd go back up there and ask Quint to drive you home."
"Don't you dare!"
"I won't, but I'm taking it easy on the way to your place." Zack straddled the bike, waiting for Trev to get on. He ignored Trev's small hiss of pain as the younger man put on his helmet and wrapped his arms around Zack's waist. He knew Trev wouldn't appreciate his saying anything.
Zack did as he'd said he would, driving slowly, making turns carefully. If they'd been going faster, he might not have been aware of the car that showed up behind them in the sideview mirror when they reached Sixth and Colorado. There was some traffic, so when they crossed Colorado, Zack stayed in the right-hand lane to let people pass. The dark blue car didn't take advantage of that. After two blocks, Zack decided to find out if he was right—that the car was tailing them. If so, the driver wasn't being the least bit subtle about it.
Using the helmet mikes, Zack said, "I'm going to turn left quickly, so hang on."
"Okay. Why?"
"Maybe I'm being paranoid, but there's a car that seems to be interested in us. Don't look. I don't want him to know we know."
Trev's grip around Zack tightened as Zack swerved the bike left and—when they'd passed the wide, tree-lined median s
trip—left again so they were heading back the way they'd come. It seemed at first as if the car had continued on, but then moments later, Zack saw it again, a block behind them. Zack took a sharp right onto Colorado just as the light turned red, then raced the bike down to Seventh, making another sharp right. Quickly he pulled into the shadows in the parking lot behind the church on the corner and turned the bike off.
"You okay?" Zack asked, after removing his helmet.
Trev took off his helmet and nodded, just as his cell vibrated. Warily he pulled it from his pocket and checked the ID. With a puzzled, "What the hell?" he answered. After a couple of seconds, he was grinning.
"What's so funny?" Zack asked.
"You've just been complimented on your evasion skills. That car belongs to one of the officers watching my place. Apparently it's shift change or something. He was on his way over, spotted us because he's seen your bike there, and decided to make certain you got me home safely."
"Holy shit!" Zack couldn't help laughing. "Nice to know I'll have a career in counterespionage, if I ever give up my day job. Okay, let's get you home so they can do what they're paid for and keep you safe."
When they pulled up in front of Trev's building, Zack spotted the car that had followed them in the lot of another building, across the street and halfway down the block. He wondered if the man watched from there or somewhere closer. Like a rooftop. He scanned the ones he could see but didn't spot anyone. Just as well, all things considered.
Despite Trev protesting that he didn't have to, Zack escorted him up to his apartment. When Trev unlocked the door and disarmed the security, Zack followed him inside.
"Go take your pills then sit. I want to check your shoulder."
"Za-ack…"
"I mean it. It's only been a few days since you were shot and after our little adventure tonight, I want to be certain the stitches haven't torn open."
Sighing, Trev disappeared into the bathroom, quickly returning with the pronouncement, "Pills taken," as he stripped off his shirt and sat down on the sofa, handing Zack a pack of the dressing materials he'd been given at the hospital.
As Zack removed the old dressing and gently checked the wound site, he realized something that honestly didn't surprise him in the least. He was seeing Trev not just as a patient—which technically he wasn't at this point—but as a man he was becoming fond of on a personal level.
It Takes An Artist Page 6