“Did you hear what they said?”
“No, but Cody put his hand on Mr. Burke’s shoulder, looking really intense. Then Mr. Burke batted it off and climbed into his car and sped away.”
“What did Cody do then?”
“Watched him drive off, not looking too happy. He held his head like this.” Cheryl pushed her fingers through her hair and clasped the sides of her head. “And he looked worried. I remember he slung his backpack over his shoulder, walked to where his bike was chained, and kept looking back toward the museum as he worked the lock.”
Interesting. Maybe I could take my boss’s word on Linda’s innocence after all. “What did you do then?” I asked Cheryl.
“I got in my car and drove home and didn’t think any more about it until Irene asked about him this afternoon.”
“How well did you know Cody?”
“We chatted a time or two during lunch breaks.”
“Did he talk about his plans to go to France?”
“Oh, yeah. It was all he talked about. He was psyched about going to the Louvre.” She bit her bottom lip. “Do you think he took the paintings?”
“Do you?”
Her tortured lip scrunched to the side. “He doesn’t seem the type.”
“What do you mean by type?”
“You know. He wasn’t materialistic. Wouldn’t know the difference between a Boglioli and a Sears special.”
Okaaaaaay. Since I had no idea what a Boglioli was, I simply nodded.
“He rode his bike everywhere too. Didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have a car. And I didn’t get the impression he blew his money on partying like a lot of the college guys do.”
I thanked Cheryl for taking the time to talk to me and joined Zoe in escorting her out. “What do you think?” I asked Zoe after the door closed behind Cheryl.
“As much as I hate to say it, it sounds like maybe Burke saw Cody take the painting and Cody bribed him to keep quiet.”
I nodded. “Except from Burke’s reaction in the parking lot, it didn’t sound as if he wanted to play along.”
“But he must have. He never reported Cody.”
“Assuming they were talking about the theft at all.”
“It makes sense. Cody wouldn’t have had money to pay Burke until he sold the painting, and if he planned to do that in France, he had to convince Burke that he could trust him to send the money once he had it.” Zoe motioned to the night watchman that we were leaving too. “Maybe that’s what had Burke so upset. He’d be the one still at the museum when and if the painting was discovered missing, and he only had Cody’s word that he’d send him the money.”
“If Cody stole the painting.”
I snatched off the ticket flapping under my windshield wiper outside the art museum. Only it wasn’t a ticket. It was a coffee shop receipt with a message scrawled on the back in black ink: All work and no play makes Serena a dull girl.
I glanced up and down the hill and at the statue dominating the center, not sure who I expected to see. Maybe Tanner poking fun at me for all the times I’d razzed him about working too much. But aside from Zoe, who needed a ride, thanks to her sputtering car finally surrendering to the inevitable, no one was around. Everything but the skating rink on the other end of the park was already closed for the day. There were no cars, joggers, or dog walkers meandering the chilly, shadowed streets. But that didn’t stop the creepy-crawly feeling tingling down my spine.
“You arrest some city worker’s cousin?” Zoe motioned to the note, which she must’ve thought was a ticket too, and laughed. “Payback time.”
I stuffed it into my pocket and climbed in the car. “Hazard of the job.” Part of me wanted to confide in Zoe about this on-again, off-again feeling that someone was watching me. What was I saying? Clearly someone was watching me. He knew my car. Had to assume my going into the museum after hours meant I was working.
“You going to talk to Burke tonight?” Zoe asked.
“Yeah. By tomorrow morning, I should have Cody’s address and phone number in Paris. I’d like to know everything there is to know about him before I make contact.”
“Can I come with you? Then we could have supper together before you drive me home.”
With the anonymous note burning a hole in my pocket, the idea of having company held appeal. “Sure. What do you feel like?”
“Chicken?”
Yup, that’s exactly how I felt.
I pulled into Burke’s driveway fifteen minutes later, but the curtains were drawn and not a single light filtered past them.
“Looks like they’re out,” Zoe said.
“Yeah, it’s too early for bed. I’ll peek in the garage to see if his car’s home.”
Burke’s neighbor emerged from his garage with a dog in tow. “You looking for the Burkes?”
“Yes, do you know where they are?”
“An ambulance came about an hour ago and took Ella to the hospital.”
“Thank you.” I hurried back to the car. “Looks like the questions will have to wait.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Burke’s wife is in the hospital.”
“Then we go there.”
I slung my arm over the seat to back out of the driveway. “It’s not that urgent. The man will be stressed enough without me adding to it.”
Zoe shook her head. “You’re too soft. You’ve got to think like a hard-nosed cop.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“No, think about it. If he’s already stressed, and you turn up the heat another couple of notches, he’s more likely to say something he doesn’t want you to know.”
I gaped at her. “You want me to put the thumb screws to him when his wife could be dying? I thought you liked him.”
“I do. But if he’s innocent, once he gets over being ticked that you still suspect him, he should admire you for leaving no stone unturned.”
“And if he’s not innocent?”
“He’s bound to give himself away. Right?”
I backed onto the road, my hood pointing in the direction of the hospital. She had a good point, as insensitive as it sounded.
“Besides,” Zoe went on, “if the doctors are treating his wife, he’ll have lots of time on his hands to talk. And if, God forbid, she dies tonight, you’ll be glad you talked to him beforehand, rather than have to harass a grieving widower.”
I stepped on the gas. “Okay, okay. We’ll go now.” On the drive, I silently prayed that Mrs. Burke wasn’t on death’s door, and while I was at it, I added a prayer that my cohort in France would locate the missing paintings. I’m not sure if I could look the other way and let a thief go. But if Burke was the thief, I think I’d have a hard time sleeping at night either way.
I showed my badge to the receptionist manning the desk in the ER and learned that Ella Burke had already been admitted.
Zoe punched the Up button on the elevator.
“Let’s take the stairs,” I said, pinching her coat sleeve and tugging her with me.
She dragged her feet. “She’s on the fourteenth floor, and unlike you, I have heels on.”
“C’mon, it’s good exercise.”
“Don’t start that with me again.”
“Okay, okay.” I let go of her coat sleeve and tugged open the stairwell door. “I’ll meet you up there.”
“What? You can’t be serious. Serena, it’s a big elevator. You’ll be fine.”
I waggled my fingers and let the door close between us, then sprinted up the stairs and reached the fourteenth floor as the elevator doors opened, except Zoe wasn’t inside.
She tapped me on the back. “You didn’t really think you could beat me, did you?”
“Hey, for all you knew it could’ve wound up stopping on every floor on the way up,” I said a tad defensively, to which she just rolled her eyes.
We found Mr. Burke pacing the hall, back stooped, his well-worn cardigan sagged open.
Zoe hurried up
to him. “Henry, how is Ella doing?”
He lifted his gaze, his ragged expression morphing to surprise. “How’d you—?” His gaze shifted to me. “Oh.”
My empty stomach tanked. He was involved. He had to be.
Zoe must’ve seen it too. “We need to ask you some questions about Cody,” she explained.
His face blanched. “Can’t this wait? My wife’s . . .” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the room, his voice petering out.
“My questions won’t take long.” I motioned toward the visitors’ room. “Why don’t we sit in there?”
Burke let out a resigned sigh and shuffled to a chair inside.
I sat down and got straight to the point. “One of the stolen paintings has been tracked to Paris. We know that Cody is going to school there. We also know that the two of you were overheard arguing on at least two occasions.”
Burke didn’t look at me. His gaze was focused on a smudge in the center of the tile floor. He wrung his hands in his lap, the fingers turning bloodless.
I struggled to harden myself against the sympathy welling in my chest. Oh, man, I wished we hadn’t come tonight. Even if he was involved—and his reaction sure made him look guilty—his wife could be on death’s door in the next room. The last thing I wanted to do was add to his torment.
Zoe caught my gaze and gave me a get-on-with-it prod.
Drawing a deep breath, I mentally reviewed Cheryl’s claims about the arguments she’d overheard between Burke and Cody. “If you know something about Cody’s involvement in the theft, I suggest you come clean now. I would hate to have to arrest you for withholding evidence when your wife clearly needs you at her side.”
His head snapped up, the furrows in his forehead the size of craters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t see Cody take any paintings.”
I searched his eyes as he clearly fought the urge to look away. “Okay, what did you see?”
He dropped his gaze once more. “I didn’t see anything.”
I exchanged a frustrated glance with Zoe. Why couldn’t the man see that I was trying to give him an out?
“What were you arguing with Cody about?” Zoe asked.
“How am I supposed to remember? We talked lots of times.”
“On these occasions, you were arguing. Why were you angry with Cody?”
Burke shook his head. “I don’t know what your spy thinks he saw, but it wasn’t me getting mad at Cody.”
“I can understand how someone drowning in unpaid hospital bills would be tempted to accept a small payment to look the other way. If you cooperate—”
Burke sprang to his feet. “How dare you? I did no such thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be with my wife.” He stomped out of the room.
Zoe leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Do you believe him?”
“I’m not sure.”
12
“What now?” Zoe asked, climbing into my car in the hospital parking lot.
I checked the text I’d missed—an update from the analyst at headquarters on what she’d found on Cody. “A field trip.”
“Where?”
“Cody’s former address in East St. Louis. His stepfather still lives there.”
“Go to East St. Louis now? Are you nuts? No one in her right mind drives into East St. Louis after dark. Someone gets killed like every other week in that place.”
“Yeah, but didn’t they have a murder last week? That means we’re good.”
“I’m serious, Serena. They’ve got guys stealing manhole covers right out of the ground for scrap metal. Drop a wheel into one of those babies and they’ll probably spring from the shadows to hijack the car too.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. I read a story about the manhole cover thefts in the paper. Besides, East St. Louis is in Illinois. That’s not even your jurisdiction.”
Well, yeah, technically, since it was on the other side of the Mississippi in St. Clair County, it was the Fairview Heights Resident Agency’s domain, but . . . “I don’t see the point of bothering anyone else when I’m only going to see if Cody’s stepdad has current contact information for him.” Besides, I was a whole lot closer than the other agency’s office.
“Have you heard of the telephone? I know it’s kind of a new invention, but letting your fingers do the walking really saves on wear and tear on the old car tires.”
“Yeah, tried that. The analyst couldn’t track down a number for him. And this way I can interview the neighbors too.”
“At least wait until morning.”
“Everyone will be at work in the morning. If you don’t want to go, I can drop you at home.”
“No way, I’m not letting you go there alone. What kind of friend would I be?”
“Okay then.” I turned toward the highway.
She grabbed the dash. “Wait!”
Yup, I figured she’d only offered so I’d change my mind to spare her life. “Change your mind?”
“No, but if we’re going to do this, we need to stop by my place so I can change into something I can run for my life in if needed.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll drop you off and drive around the corner and pick up take-out chicken while you change.”
By the time I had our dinners, a light snow had started, and I felt like I was flying a spaceship with stars swooping past the windshield at warp speed. Not the best conditions for driving, but maybe it would keep the murderers indoors for the evening.
I pulled up to the front of Zoe’s place and she skipped out of the house, bundled in a black parka and ski hat, wielding a flashlight the size of a billy stick. Add face paint and she’d be all set for Night Ops 101.
“What’s with the getup?” I asked as she opened the passenger door.
“I figured if I looked like I ruled the streets, the riffraff would think twice before messing with me.” She pulled something from her pocket. “If not, I brought my stun gun.”
“You can’t carry a stun gun into Illinois unless you have a FOID card.”
“A what?”
“A Firearms Owner’s Identification issued by the Illinois State Police.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, just a second.” She jumped out of the car and dashed back into the duplex she shared with her parents. She left the doors open, and I could hear her shouting, “Mom, I need your pepper spray!” Ten seconds later, she came dashing back out, victoriously holding up a small aerosol can. “Got it.”
As I shifted into Drive, she said, “We need to stop at my cousin’s around the corner. Number 14.”
Her cousin was ex-military and an army surplus junkie. “What’s he loaning you? Night vision goggles?”
“That’s a good idea! I bet he has some of those.”
“I was kidding. It’s not as if we’re breaking into a house on a dark, deserted street.”
I parked in front of number 14, and her cousin Billy sauntered to the curb, a jacket slung over his shoulder and dressed from head to toe in black urban camo—all six feet four inches.
His arms and chest were a lot thicker than I remembered, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t thanks to the sleek combat shirt hugging his chest like a second skin. Didn’t the man know it was snowing outside?
“Forget the pepper spray,” I teased Zoe. “Just bring your cousin.”
Zoe reached behind her and released the lock on the rear door. “That’s the plan.”
“What?” I sputtered as Billy opened the back door and climbed in.
“Hey, Serena, good to see you again.”
“Billy.” I cleared the squeak from my throat. “Hey, good to see you too.” Billy was two years older than us, and I’d had a colossal crush on him ever since I was eight and he’d rescued me from their tree fort after his brothers hid the ladder. A few years later, when half the world feared our country’s infrastructure would collapse at the stroke of midnight because all the wor
ld’s computers would suddenly go berserk, “thinking” it was 1900 instead of 2000 or some such thing, and my biggest fear was that the world would end without my ever having kissed a boy—not counting kissing tag in kindergarten—I’d confided the fear to Billy at Zoe’s New Year’s Eve party. Less than half an hour later, he caught me under the mistletoe and allayed my fears.
Deep down, I knew it was a mercy kiss, but I hadn’t cared. It had made me tingle right down to my toes and pray fervently that the world wouldn’t end at the stroke of midnight.
Of course, by the time I was deemed old enough to date, he’d already worked his way through every girl in his senior class and was halfway through the junior class, and my hero worship had dimmed considerably.
Zoe poked her elbow into my arm. “We can go now.”
“What?” I tore my gaze from Billy’s devastating dimples. “Oh, right.” What was it about those dimples that still had the power to make my tummy dissolve in flutters and to make me feel fifteen again—before I figured out that he wasn’t a girl’s dream come true? More like my worst nightmare, if I had the misfortune of falling in love with the Casanova.
I stepped on the gas a tad more forcefully than necessary, and Billy let out a deep-throated chuckle that rumbled through the interior of the cab. Suddenly having the ox-man in the backseat didn’t make me feel safe at all.
Having lost my appetite too, I passed my take-out box back to Billy and turned on the radio to cover the racket my pounding heart was making.
“Why do you think the senator voted against his own bill?” the radio announcer asked.
I reached for the knob to change the station.
“No, I’d like to hear this,” Zoe said. “It was weird, don’t you think? It’s as if he’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He spent months pushing for support of his bill to limit foreign adoptions with his ‘we need to make it easier to help our own orphans and unwanted babies before we bring them in from overseas’ rhetoric that capitalized on his own unhappy stint in the foster care system. Then he goes and votes against it.”
A Fool and His Monet Page 14