Art was staring at her.
“Um. Expressway,” she said, pointing ahead. “Eyes on the road, Art Smith.”
At that, he gave her a quick one-eyebrow-cocked glance. “Oh my God what?”
“The Firefly movie is filming in the south wing and part of the lower level—the basement. Tyler has access to the basement, where the medallion’s certificate went missing. Did you ever run into him down there?”
He shook his head. “No. The only one I ran into down there was Nate. But this actor, Tyler Chadwick. I’m glad you told me about him.”
Art took the Lilac Grove exit off the expressway. Avery could hardly believe it was only four thirty in the afternoon. Her Monday had been so long, she could have sworn she’d leaped into Wednesday by now.
Her phone rang as the truck pulled into her driveway. She grabbed it on the first ring, putting it on speaker.
“Ms. Ayers? Mallory Fein with Action Entertainment. I’m unfortunately not able to release any contact information for persons affiliated with the studio. I can have our legal department get in touch with the detective you mentioned to Ms. Brennan, as it seems there are some questions needing to be answered; they’ll be able to help with reaching out to Mr. Chadwick. But I can tell you that Tyler Chadwick is no longer in production for our Firefly sequel. His manager notified Action Entertainment yesterday that he had a conflict and is no longer available.”
Chapter Twenty
Avery couldn’t believe she’d been tricked by someone as pushy and elitist as that jerk Tyler Chadwick. If that was even his name. And for what? A few scraps of information about the ruby? She couldn’t see how or why any of that had benefited him. She and Art would need more time later to talk, since they’d just parked outside the house, but there was one thing she was certain of after hanging up with Mallory Fein. Francesca was up to something.
“Tilly, I’m home!” she yelled up the stairs from the foyer, Art standing behind her and Halston wagging and vying for pets and attention from both of them in his brand-new hot-pink cast.
Her sister slid into view at the top of the stairs in fuzzy purple kitten socks paired with orange-and-yellow plaid shorts and one of William’s old Christmas sweaters. “Oh my gawd!” She galloped down the steps and threw her arms around Avery, then pulled back and looked her up and down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My personal bodyguard saved me.”
Tilly threw her arms around Art. “Thank you!”
Art’s shocked expression was priceless. He put his hands up in surprise, looking down at Tilly hugging him. Several inches shorter than Avery and a full foot shorter than Art, she made him look like a giant. He finally settled for patting her on the back. “You’re welcome.”
Tilly let go and stared up at him. “It’s a good thing you’ve been stalking my sister.”
“I haven’t—”
She cut him off, smiling sweetly. “I’m just messing with you. Come on, Auntie has dinner ready. She’s been all twitchy since your friend knocked on the door to search our house for killers and bugs and bombs, since Avery was almost blown up.”
“Um.” Avery looked back at Art as they started toward the kitchen. Sorry. She mouthed the word, giving him a helpless shrug. She had no control over what came out of Tilly’s mouth. Passing Tilly in the doorway, Avery paused and motioned from her sister’s head to her feet with a flick of her wrist. She understood the fuzzy socks, but the rest of her outfit was just confusing. “This is a nice look on you.”
Tilly curtsied. “Thank you, I know.”
“You could take this stuff a little more seriously, you know,” Avery said. “Micah was shot this morning.”
Tilly made bug eyes at Avery, her hands on her hips. “I know that. You told me. And whoever rigged your car almost cost me my sister on top of my parents. What should I do, A? You won’t let me in on anything, Auntie wouldn’t let me help even if you did, and now my nightmares are even weirder since all this mysterious note stuff started. How would you like me to act? Should I get scared and cry every time Halston barks at a leaf? ’Cuz I’m almost at that point, and I can try to rush it if it’d seem more appropriate to you.”
Avery took a step back. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Maybe you’re handling this better than any of us.”
“Maybe I am.”
Aunt Midge was at the kitchen island grating fresh Parmesan cheese over a steaming casserole that must have just come out of the oven. The table was set with a fourth place for Art and already held a large platter of garlic bread, a salad with three dressing choices, a heaping bowl of mixed vegetables, and three dozen chocolate chip cookies piled high in a cookie tin. Midge grabbed Avery and pulled her in for a tight hug. She didn’t say a word, which was a little frightening. She finally let go, holding on to Avery’s arms, and still didn’t speak. Her gaze went to Art and then back to Avery. She took a deep breath, yanked her apron off, and carried the chicken Parmesan with potholders over to the table.
Tilly made eye contact with Avery. “Told you,” she murmured.
They joined Aunt Midge at the table without being asked. The silence was painfully awkward. Tilly took a piece of bread and passed the platter to Art.
“Auntie, this looks so—” Avery stopped abruptly as Midge set the spatula down on the table with a smack.
“This assignment”—she chewed the words and spat them out as unpalatable—“is over.” Her stare burned a hole right through Avery. “I won’t tolerate it. Give it to another company. Let them die over it. I’ll tell Goldie Brennan myself if you won’t.”
Avery folded her hands in her lap, sucking in her lips between her teeth. She had never, ever seen Midge like this.
When Avery didn’t speak, Aunt Midge went on, her pitch rising along with her ire. “I lost my brother and your mother over this cursed medallion. How can you even think of persisting in this? Do you want your sister to have no one? Should Noah be left parentless too? What’s it going to take for you to leave it? Because, clearly, your parents dying, my dog being hurt, Micah being shot, and you nearly being blown up is not enough!”
Avery swallowed hard, her eyes burning. At the other end of the table, Midge was perfectly still, but she might as well have been vibrating, her distress was that palpable. To Avery’s left, Tilly was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the salad dressings. To her right, Art sat frozen with his hand still on his fork. Avery stood and walked around the table. She knelt by Aunt Midge and wrapped her arms around her. She could have been hugging a post, the tiny woman was so completely unyielding and stiff. Avery could barely feel her breathing. She held on. “Okay.”
Midge drew in a deep breath, her posture softening in Avery’s arms. “I don’t believe you.”
Avery loosened her grip so she could see her aunt’s face. She expected tears but found only resignation and defeat. “Auntie. I didn’t know until today that I was involved in something this dangerous. I’d never intentionally put you or Halston or Tilly in harm’s way.”
Midge nodded. “I know that.”
“I’m sure my parents never expected they’d end up being targeted either.”
“I know.”
“If you really want me to terminate the assignment, to have Goldie get someone else to finish it, I will. But there’s more at stake here than an artifact. Auntie,” she said, hesitating and looking over at Art. She knew he had risked his livelihood telling her about her dad. She couldn’t break his confidence, but she didn’t know how else to make her family understand why it was so important that they get to the bottom of what was happening with the medallion and the new ruby. If they didn’t, it would never be safe for William to return to them.
Art’s eyebrows were furrowed, the crease between them deeply indented. He closed his eyes and then reopened them, giving her a single nod. As he did, he rested his elbow on the dining room table and covered his mouth and jawline with one hand, and Avery could see how conflicted he was.
&nb
sp; “Auntie,” she said again. “Tilly. Someone did cause the accident that night on the way home from Bello’s. Art says there was explosive material found on the engine cradle. Mom and Dad’s notes point to the existing ruby eye in the medallion at MOA being a fake, but someone needed MOA to believe it was real. If authorities aren’t able to catch whoever’s responsible, then we’ll never—”
“Never what, A?” Tilly leaned forward, intensely focused on her sister. “Never what?”
“This can’t leave this room,” Avery said. She dropped her voice to just above a whisper, looking from Tilly to Aunt Midge. “This staying between us is a matter of life and death, and also Art’s job. I’m serious.”
“We understand,” Aunt Midge said, sounding almost like herself again. She nodded, saying it again to Art. “We do. It won’t leave this room.”
“Dad is alive.” Avery held her breath, watching her family.
“I knew it!” Tilly’s chair tipped backward onto the floor as she stood and pointed across the table at Avery. “I knew it.” She picked up her chair and sat back down. “I told you guys. Just saying.”
“He’s under protection, then?” Midge asked, her tone hopeful. “Is that what happened? What about Anne, Detective?” she asked Art.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your sister-in-law truly didn’t survive the accident. William is considered a federally protected witness in an ongoing case. He was transferred to a safe medical facility after extensive surgery for internal injuries from the accident. Once he regained consciousness and understood, he agreed to stay in hiding until the responsible party or parties could be caught. He was afraid they’d go through his family to get to him if they knew he’d survived.”
Aunt Midge clapped her hands together. “Oh my goodness. Oh my. But now Avery’s in danger until this is all wrapped up.”
“You’re all in danger,” Art said, “the moment the killer realizes William is alive. It’s imperative no one else knows.” He looked at Avery. “No one. Not Wilder. Not your boyfriend Hank. Not Goldie. Not even Micah or Sir Robert. Do you understand?”
“Okay, but FYI, Hank’s not Avery’s boyfriend anymore,” Tilly said.
Art raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t comment.
“Is my brother all right now? He’s recovered from the accident?” Midge asked.
“I’m told he’s fully recovered. I’m not privy to any other information.”
“When can we see him?” Tilly asked.
“I can’t answer that either; I’m sorry. The best chance at getting him home is if we do our part to tie this case up.” He nodded at Avery, his gaze going to the portion of chain visible at her neck. “I’m hopeful there’ll be something significant in the papers at Micah’s house, and we need to see what’s on that flash drive.”
The mood in the kitchen when Avery and Art left Midge and Tilly to do dishes was night-and-day different from when Avery had walked through the door earlier. In Anne and William’s office, Avery set her laptop on her mother’s desk, glancing over at her dad’s empty one. God, she hoped to see him sitting at it soon. The idea of it made her smile—she and her dad here in the home office, working side by side.
Art tipped his head, giving her an appraising smile as he carried a chair around to sit beside her. “Feeling better, I see.”
She nodded. “I can hardly believe it’s true. But I know it is. I wanted to believe Tilly was right when we got that first note. I can’t wait until he’s home.” She plugged the flash drive into the USB port.
Less than a minute later, she and Art had their pick of files to choose from. “Start with the first one,” he suggested.
She clicked on the first file, and a copy of the intake form for the Emperor’s Twins medallion appeared, with two sections starred. “Okay, this is the initial form that’s filled out when we take an assignment. It gives information on the submitting collector—Edward Johnstone, right there; location of origin when it was originally acquired; initial contact person—the star there, next to Francesca Giolitti’s name; whether there have been any prior appraisals and by whom—the other starred item, Rizzolo Fine Jewelry; and then this space where you can write whether an outside appraisal has been declined; and finishing with the last section, MOA’s intention of acquiring the piece, pending the results of our process.”
“Edward Johnstone is the one who called you, right? What was it he said? I can go get my notes,” Art offered.
“It’s all right. He said not to let the ruby or medallion out of my sight. And trust no one—I remember that.”
“Hmm.”
“I know.” Avery looked at him. “Makes it sound like he felt something shady had happened with his submission.” She went back to the flash drive contents and chose the next file.
The screen filled with a photo of Francesca and a handsome dark-haired man. They were in front of some type of shop. The man’s hand was on Francesca’s waist, and her fingers were touching his upper arm as she leaned toward him. It looked like she was either telling him something in confidence or about to kiss his cheek.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Art said. “Look at the date stamp. Whoever put this photo on the flash drive went to the trouble to make sure the date was visible.”
“This was two days before my parents died. The day before my dad left that voice mail for Micah saying he wanted to talk about the medallion.” She left the photo file open and clicked the next item.
Another photo appeared, this one with the light fading, as if it was late afternoon or early evening. It was the shop Francesca and the dark-haired man had been standing in front of. The man was alone in this photo, just inside the glass front door, which bore the words Rizzolo Fine Jewelry with lettering underneath: JITA, ENAGO. The man appeared to be locking up, as the store looked empty.
“What is that? What are those letters?” Art pointed.
“JITA is the Jewelers International Trade Affiliate and ENAGO is the European–North American Gemology Organization. I’m a member of ENAGO. JITA is a designation some international shops will take on as a way of letting customers know they’re worldwide.” She frowned, putting her face closer to the screen. “How do I make this bigger?”
“Zoom.” Art pointed to the small plus and minus signs in the corner.
“Oh,” she said. “Duh.” Zooming in, she rolled the cursor over the screen near the top. “I recognize this. Isn’t this below the High Line? So we know right where this jewelry shop is. And we know Francesca’s friendly with this man who works here.”
“Francesca’s friendly with lots of folks,” Art commented.
“Sure seems like it.” Something was jabbing at her memory. Something to do with Aunt Midge’s Prince Ivan. How did that even make any sense? Maybe it was something vague that had been said the night of the party.
“Next one?” Art asked.
“Sorry.” The next file was a photo as well. It was of a scrap of floral stationery with a string of letters and numbers written on it in two rows. Avery reached across the desk to the little clear plastic cube her mother kept to corral her blank note papers and held up the same exact floral paper.
“Aha,” Art said. “What were your parents trying to tell us with this?” He took a small notepad from his pocket and jotted down the digits carefully. He glanced at Avery. “Could you read them to me while I double-check myself?”
“Sure.” She recited the letters and numbers on the screen, pausing where there were spaces. Art stopped her at the ninth digit.
“Hold on.” He erased two numbers and switched their order. “All right, once more from the beginning.”
Avery threw a look at him in her peripheral vision. He was intently focused on the notepad, pencil poised to make any further necessary corrections. Odd. Why didn’t he just look at the screen and check them himself? She read them aloud, slowly.
“Thanks.”
She half expected him to say something about why he’d needed her to double-check him, but
he didn’t. “Okay, last file,” she said. “Ready?”
He nodded once.
The photo that filled the screen was of a slightly blurry Francesca, but with a different gentleman this time. They stood in front of what looked like a hotel. The man was shorter than Francesca, dressed in a brown suit and wearing round-framed glasses. Avery squinted and peered more closely at the screen. It was obvious that the shot had been snapped from a distance, and the quality left something to be desired.
She gasped. “Oh my God.” Avery covered her mouth. She stared a moment longer at the screen and then turned to Art.
His attention was on the screen, but he appeared unimpressed. He frowned at the image. “Right, Francesca again. With yet another man.”
Avery shook her head. “No, look closer. Not just another man.”
Art used the zoom feature, staring at the screen. “Is that . . . ? I’m not sure; I only saw the postmortems. Wait, look at the date stamp. Is that Oliver Renell?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
Art frowned, keeping his eyes on the image. “I thought you’d said no one had met him.”
“That’s what Nate told me. He said Renell wouldn’t even meet him in the lobby of his hotel so he could hand off the contingent contract.” She checked the zoomed-in photo. “That looks like the front of Beckworth Suites, doesn’t it?”
Art nodded. “It sure does.”
“In his emails, Renell told me exactly who he’d had contact with.” Avery racked her brain. “Hold on.” She opened a new window on her laptop and searched her email inbox. She pulled up the first email reply from Oliver Renell, skimming through what he’d said. “Yes, I knew I remembered right. This is what he wrote:
‘Following my initial discussion with acquisitions liaison Ms. Giolitti, my only point of contact at Museum of Antiquities has been Mrs. Goldie Brennan. Mrs. Brennan did utilize the services of her grandson Nate, who I understand works in acquisitions, to deliver the contingent contract to me, though we did not meet in person. I had the gem couriered to MOA, care of Mrs. Brennan, on Wednesday, June 2nd, at which time it was signed into custody by Mrs. Brennan herself. I respectfully request to limit my communications strictly to Goldie Brennan and yourself. Ms. Brennan is aware and has agreed to honor this request. It should be stated on record that the gem never left my sight between Munich and the moment I gave the package to my private courier. Suffice it to say, I guarantee you are working with the gem I acquired in Munich.’ ”
Ruby Red Herring Page 24