Felix looked pale. “What?”
“Your assistant. Ryan Nelson.” Jordan consulted his book.
Savanna suddenly knew exactly what he was doing. She grabbed Skylar’s arm, shaking it. “He knows Ryan’s name. He knows every detail of this case,” she hissed. “He’s playing Columbo to throw Thiebold off. He’s good.”
“Oooh! You’re right.” Skylar grinned.
“My assistant? I’d hardly call him my assistant,” Felix said. “He’s a delivery boy. He packages and acts as courier for the pieces I deal in.”
“Hmm. That’s odd. Because when we talked to Ryan, he told us he travels everywhere with you when you’re working on a deal. To the seller, the buyer, and The Masters Gallery in St. Armand’s each time you need to see Mr. Kiernanski. Or…is it Kiernaski? Well, I can ask him soon enough. We’re talking to him again tonight.”
“Ryan is just a kid,” Felix said, looking slightly panicked. “He doesn’t know the ins and outs of the art world, all the steps in the process of buying and selling. Even if he thinks he can tell you anything of importance, he’d be wrong. He doesn’t understand the intricacies of the transactions. Questioning him won’t help you with this…this wild goose chase.”
“Ryan understands quite a lot, I’d say. He explained in detail the step-by-step process he’s assisted you with. Oh! And I almost forgot to mention, there’s also the bottle of wine planted in Caroline Carson’s house, spiked with the medication Attendall. Mrs. Carson’s best friend was the unfortunate victim of that wine, though our theory is that the wine was meant for Caroline. Are you aware your assistant is on Attendall? Wait.” Jordan looked at his notebook. “I’m guessing you are, as the two of you travel so often together.”
“This doesn’t concern us,” the attorney said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. “You can deal with Ryan Nelson on your own time. Now, about that bond.”
“Oh my gosh, his lawyer is so arrogant.” Savanna rolled her eyes.
“He isn’t really,” Skylar said. “He’s got to play things like his client is not guilty no matter what. Jordan is pushing; it’s his job to push back.”
“Huh. I wasn’t looking at it like that.” That made sense. Nice to have a little insight from an attorney’s point of view.
“I’ll go look into the bond,” the detective said. “If they do decide to grant it, you’ll need to remain in the state, Mr. Thiebold.”
Felix’s complexion was now an unattractive shade of pale gray; he looked nauseated. Savanna noted a sheen of sweat covering his brow. The attorney put a hand on his arm, but Felix shook it off.
The attorney leaned over again and spoke into Felix’s ear, and Felix glared at him.
An officer entered the room, and Jordan went over to him, nodding and listening intently. “Excellent! Mr. Thiebold, Mr. Lloyd, excuse me for a moment.”
When Jordan exited, he left the door standing wide open. Savanna saw Thiebold glance at the open door, and then at the uniformed patrol officer standing in the corner.
Felix turned to his attorney, clearly flustered as he demanded, “You’d better do something! You said you’d make this all go away and we’d be out of here tonight!”
The lawyer looked unconcerned. He leaned forward, speaking quietly, turning his back on Savanna and Skylar through the two-way mirror; they still heard his words. “Keep your voice down. The detective’s bluffing. They’ve got nothing. If they did, they’d have arrested your assistant on the spot yesterday instead of telling you they’re continuing to question him.”
Felix rested his elbows on the table, his hands cradling his head. “You’d better be certain. I’m not sure exactly what Ryan knows. He’s my right hand for these deals. I try to be discreet but…”
“Watch yourself.” The lawyer smacked the table, interrupting Thiebold. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
Jordan appeared in the doorway of the darkened room where Skylar and Savanna stood. “Showtime,” he whispered and shut their door. At exactly that moment, Detective Taylor, from Savanna’s first time here in the precinct, walked past Thiebold’s holding room with Ryan Nelson. One large hand was wrapped around Ryan’s skinny upper arm; as they passed the doorway, Ryan glanced into the room and lost his footing for a moment, then continued on with the detective to the next room on the right.
Savanna and Skylar watched Detective Jordan return to Thiebold’s room.
“Looks like your client will get to be our guest tonight, after all,” Jordan said, sliding a paper across the table to the attorney.
Felix peered at it. “What is this?”
“Maybe you can explain to me,” Jordan said quietly, “what your fingerprints are doing on Caroline Carson’s pill box?”
Thiebold’s eyes were huge. He looked up at his attorney, and finally, Mr. Lloyd looked worried. “It isn’t what it looks like,” Felix said, no heart behind the statement. “It’s, uh, she asked me to fetch it for her when I was there last week.”
“Mm-hmm,” Jordan said. “And the full print of yours that we lifted from the inside of one of the compartments?”
Felix Thiebold deflated before their eyes. He shook his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not what I planned.”
Mr. Lloyd stood. “That’s enough,” he barked, looking down at Felix. “If you won’t take my advice, then at least know when to shut up. Mr. Thiebold has nothing further to say,” he informed Jordan. “We’re finished here.”
“We aren’t,” Jordan said. “Not quite yet.”
The lawyer grudgingly sat back down, giving Thiebold one more warning glance.
“Perfect,” Skylar whispered to Savanna on the other side of the glass.
“They’ve got him.” Savanna said.
“I just want to make sure I understand how you did it,” Jordan said. “Because this is how it looks: Ivan Kiernanski—or perhaps Kiernaski, impossible to know which is the actual misspelling, since the name is an alias either way—acted as your forger and authenticator. We’ll find out who he really is, but he was classically trained and is very good, recreating famous works for you on commission out of a gallery in St. Armand’s, Florida. The Carsons aren’t the only clients you’ve procured art for. That should be an interesting thread to follow, but the FBI will take over on that. Ryan will be a great resource for them.”
Thiebold’s lawyer shook his head. “You’re not going to gain anything from this. My client isn’t going to incriminate himself.”
Jordan shrugged. “That’s fine. The evidence speaks for itself. Thiebold’s signature follows Kiernanski’s on every provenance for every piece he sold to Everett Carson; your client contracted with Kiernanski to create the works and fraudulent certificates. But I don’t think Thiebold caught the one instance where his so-called authenticator misspelled his own name. Twice, in both print and signature. When Mrs. Carson decided to liquidate some of her paintings after losing her husband last year and reached out to the three gallerists who have purchased for her in the past, your client panicked. In spite of Thiebold’s best efforts to make sure Mrs. Carson used only him to thin out her collection, the woman wasn’t all that cooperative. She made efforts to involve other dealers—Kevin Banfield, for one, and another gallerist from New York—to help find buyers for her work. Thiebold couldn’t allow that to happen. Your client resorted to desperate measures to protect his reputation, and his livelihood.”
Felix Thiebold looked at his lawyer and then back at Jordan.
“Your fingerprints on Mrs. Carson’s pill box, and inside the pillbox, are enough to prove attempted murder, even without your fraudulent dealings. We’re still working on a way to tie the death of Eleanor Pietila to you, Mr. Thiebold, but we’ve already been granted a search warrant for your last several points of residence. We’ll find the proof we need. Looks like we have quite a few options as far as the charges we’ll purs
ue.”
“Incredible,” Savanna said, watching. She gave Skylar a squeeze around her shoulders. “Look at Thiebold. He’s done. Jordan seems so relaxed, laying all of the details out, and every time he drops another bomb, Thiebold looks like he wants to sink into the floor. I’m glad you got him involved, Skylar.”
Skylar nodded. “He’s the best.”
“Yes, he is.” As defeated as Thiebold appeared, slumped in his chair next to his lawyer, Savanna didn’t feel bad for him at all. She was still trying to reconcile the sweet, respectful gentleman she’d met weeks ago at the Carson mansion with this conniving criminal in the interrogation room through the two-way mirror.
“I just have one question for you, Mr. Thiebold,” Detective Jordan was saying. “Your friendship with Everett Carson. Was that real, or did you cultivate that relationship as a means to an end?”
“Everett and I were friends. At least, we started out that way,” Thiebold blurted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t set out to hurt anyone. I just loved dealing in fine art.”
“And the fortune you gained doing it, especially once you could pocket the majority of the profits for forgeries.”
Another uniformed patrol officer entered the room, and Thiebold’s lawyer pushed his chair back, placing his hands on the table.
Jordan stood. “Now we’re finished. Check back in the morning, Mr. Lloyd,” he said, “and you’ll be given the time of the arraignment hearing tomorrow. Have a nice night,” he added, leaving the officers to deal with Felix.
Skylar elbowed Savanna, grinning. “Have a nice night. Gotta love him.”
“He’s the best,” Savanna agreed. “Thank you for this, Skylar. Felix Thiebold put Caroline through so much; he cost Eleanor her life. Mr. Carson would turn over in his grave if he knew the man not only faked the artwork he sold him, but his friendship on top of it. I’m glad we got to be here for this.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Caroline Carson was the perfect hostess at her ninetieth birthday party. When Savanna arrived, Caroline was circulating in the parlor, not a trace of a limp or any sign she’d been in the hospital five days ago. Her silver hair shone, complementing her shimmering navy-blue gown; Savanna spied rhinestone-laden silver shoes peeking out from beneath the hem.
Caroline pulled Savanna into a hug the moment she saw her. “Thank you, my dear, for coming home to us. You’ve been my guardian angel these last few weeks.”
Savanna planted a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “You look beautiful, Caroline. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t consider rescheduling this. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m feeling wonderful. This is all I wanted.” She spread her arms out as if to embrace her family and friends. “You worry too much. All of you. I even have my doctor on site, just in case.” She smiled. “I’m very well cared for.”
“I can see that,” Savanna agreed.
Jack came to Caroline’s side. “Grandmother, may I steal you for a moment? Sorry, Savanna.”
“Of course.”
Caroline linked her arm through Jack’s, letting him lead her toward the foyer.
“Mom is here. She got your invitation. I thought you might like to…”
Savanna lost the rest of Jack’s sentence as they were out of earshot. She knew nothing of the guest list, or the somewhat strained relationship it seemed Caroline had with her daughter, but she was happy to hear that none of the family had been excluded from the event.
Caroline’s house looked gorgeous. The temporary bedroom was gone now from the parlor, the wooden floors gleamed, and overhead—Savanna had no idea how or when it had been done—hundreds of small, white twinkle lights were strung across the ceilings.
Savanna moved to the punchbowl. She and Sydney had prepared it this afternoon and had left instructions for Lauren to just add the ice cream at the start of the party. Savanna saw that it was getting a bit low; she served herself a cup and went to the kitchen to replenish the mixture and fruit.
Sydney was leaning against the counter, one hand on Brad’s arm, laughing at something he’d just said. “Savvy! It’s an amazing party, isn’t it? Mom and Dad are on their way now.”
Nolan came sliding in stocking feet through the kitchen, giggling like crazy as the poodles pranced around him. He fell onto the floor and let them sniff and paw at him as he rolled around laughing.
Skylar followed closely after Nolan; she bent and scooped him up, passing him to Travis behind her. Nolan wiggled around on Travis’ shoulder, reaching for the poodles.
“He needs a dog,” Savanna murmured to Skylar as she passed her by the counter. “Right?” She looked up at Travis.
Travis nodded. “Seriously. I’m working on her, don’t worry.”
“Good!” As Savanna was carrying a large pitcher out to refill the punch bowl, she spotted Detective Jordan at the other end of the dessert table. He came toward her, accompanied by a pretty brunette in a pink dress.
“Savanna Shepherd, this is my wife, June. June, Savanna Shepherd, Carson’s new honorary private eye.”
Savanna laughed self-consciously. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would,” Jordan said. “You caught details others would have missed, and it’s a good thing. None of us would be here celebrating tonight if you hadn’t.” He glanced over Savanna’s head at someone and she turned to look. Maggie and Bill Lyle were just arriving. “I meant to tell you, I did question those two, in the interest of leaving no loose ends. That stairway accident was exactly that—an accident. Mr. Lyle is still beating himself up over missing the stud when he installed the top bracket for the railing.”
“Well, I kind of figured, but I’m glad you’re sure he wasn’t involved.”
“Even if circumstances were right, I highly doubt those two are capable of a carrying out a complicated plan to hurt anyone.” He chuckled.
“I guess nosy and ornery doesn’t necessarily mean murderer.” She laughed, poking fun at herself and the conclusions she’d leaped to.
“Listen.” Jordan turned back to Savanna. “We found the vehicle that tried to run you off the road. It was abandoned in long-term parking at the airport; all the damage was consistent with the report you gave. No leads on the driver though. And”—he paused for dramatic effect—“I heard this morning that they’ve tracked down the forger Thiebold used. He was on site at that gallery in St. Armand’s, Florida. The FBI grabbed him. They’re still identifying all the work he forged over the years, but apparently, Felix Thiebold was just one of the art dealers he contracted with. This is far-reaching, Savanna. Thiebold and his forger have been doing this for years, in several countries.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s incredible.”
“You bet it is.”
Jordan and his wife moved to the chocolate fountain. Savanna noticed a few people pointing up at her mural, chatting. Savanna was pleased with how it turned out, but more importantly, Caroline loved it.
Savanna drifted toward the far wall, heading out toward Caroline’s back deck overlooking the dunes. The October chill had remained, the days warm and the nights brisk. Savanna stood at the railing, the tiny lights overhead twinkling against the night. Someone had even used strands of small, clear lightbulbs to create a trail along the tree line toward the dunes and the lake.
Savanna closed her eyes, tipping her head back, and breathed deeply. How she loved the lake air. She wrapped her arms across her chest, running her hands over the bare skin of her upper arms. The royal-blue dress she’d chosen for tonight was elegant and classic, but she should have brought a sweater.
She opened her eyes to Aidan draping his suit jacket over her shoulders, pulling it snug around her. Savanna’s breath caught in her throat as she met his eyes.
“You look cold,” he said, his voice deep and quiet.
“I’m not,” Savanna answered. “Anymore. Thank you.”
He smiled at her, and she forgot all the rest of her words.
“It’s a beautiful party,” Aidan said.
Savanna nodded.
“Savanna,” Aidan said, leaning in just a little closer, “can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Would you go out with me? Tomorrow? Or some day? On a date?”
“Yes.” She smiled, her cheeks flushing hot. “I’d love that.”
“Good.” He nodded, grinning down at her.
“But,” Savanna said, finally finding her words, “it can’t be at a hospital, or a school, or in this house.”
Aidan laughed. “It’s a deal.”
THE END
Holy Yum Baked Chicken
In Out of the Picture, Sunday dinners are a Shepherd family tradition, with everyone taking turns to prepare unique dishes. Savanna just moved back to her hometown and she’s a little out of practice, but with her dad’s help, she gets the maple Dijon sauce just right. This recipe is called “holy yum” for a reason, and it’s likely to become a staple for your own dinners at home.
Yield: 4 servings
Prep Time: 5 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
Total Time: 45 minutes
INGREDIENTS
¼ cup maple syrup
¼ cup coarse-grain country Dijon mustard
¼ cup Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
1 garlic clove, minced
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon corn starch
2 tablespoons chicken broth or cold water
1 sprig fresh rosemary
Out of the Picture Page 26