A Fool and His Monet

by Sandra Orchard

  “Maybe I should go back there and wait and watch,” I said to Tanner. “Catch her red-handed. What do you think?”

  His phone rang.

  Tanner held up a finger to signal me to hold on. A few seconds later, he said, “Come on. We’ve got to go,” and raced out of the room.

  “What’s going on?” I shouted, sprinting after him.

  “Petra’s call to her ex came from a pay phone at the hospital.”

  “What hospital?”

  Tanner yanked open the door of his SUV and shot me an urgent look. “Burke’s.”

  24

  “What do you mean he was released this morning?” I practically screamed at the nurse outside the room that used to be Burke’s and now housed a Big Bad Wolf lookalike who looked as if he might’ve swallowed Burke and Little Red Riding Hood. “Why weren’t we told?”

  The nurse gave us a helpless look. “You’ll probably find him visiting his wife upstairs.”

  Right. Of course. I raced for the stairs with Tanner on my heels.

  He caught me by the arm, yanked me into an elevator, and jabbed 14.

  “Wait, no.” I blindly jabbed the button with the double arrows pointing toward each other. No! “I didn’t mean that button!” I jabbed the one with the arrows pointing away from each other, but I was too late. The elevator jerked into motion.

  I stiffened, stared at the numbers above the door. Eleven floors to go. What could that take? Ten, fifteen seconds, tops. I gulped. Could feel the sweat beading on my forehead.

  “Breathe,” Tanner whispered in my ear.

  What was he talking about? I was pretty sure I was hyperventilating. If the doors didn’t open soon, I might actually pass out. I would’ve flashed him an annoyed scowl for yanking me into the moving metal trap, but it was taking all my energy to hold myself together. Yeah, I know it’s a crazy phobia. The elevator safely deposited people on their desired floors a gazillion times a day. But . . . but . . .

  The doors opened and I sprang out. “Do you remember her room number?”

  “Room 16.”

  I scanned the door numbers like a madwoman and skidded to a stop in her doorway. The bed was empty. So was the bathroom. I commandeered the first nurse I caught sight of. “Mrs. Burke in 16, where is she?”

  “Treatment room 3.”

  I raced back down the hall and a sergeant-major wannabe halted my headlong sprint two strides from the door. A split second after my annoyance passed, I conceded that the nurse had done me a favor. I was not acting like a professional. If Petra was already on the floor, what did I think I’d accomplish by barreling into the room? That elevator ride had seriously messed with my brain, which was still reeling from the number Cook did on it yesterday.

  I needed to be paying closer attention to the orderlies, the visitors, whoever Petra might be pretending to be to get close to Burke.

  Tanner showed the nurse his badge. “We need to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Burke.”

  “Ella is in the bed on the end, but her husband left a few moments ago with his daughter.”

  Daughter? I mentally hopscotched over the family photos adorning the walls of the Burke’s home. They had sons. “Do you mean daughter-in-law?” I asked as Tanner slipped into Mrs. Burke’s room.

  “Oh, maybe.”

  I whipped out my phone and scrolled to Petra’s photo. “Is this her?”

  The nurse squinted at the picture. “Could be. I didn’t pay close attention.”

  Tanner emerged from the room. “Mrs. Burke says her daughters-in-law don’t live nearby. Carmen Malgucci stopped by to visit after his tests, so her husband headed to the cafeteria for a late lunch.”

  “Oh,” the nurse said, “I guess I’m mixing up the patients’ spouses. Sorry about that.”

  Tanner headed for the elevator.

  “I’m taking the stairs,” I called after him.

  “The cafeteria is twelve floors down.”

  I spun on my heel and called over my shoulder, “Still taking the stairs.” More times than not, I could beat the elevator, since it inevitably got stopped on other floors, and this way we’d cover all our bases. At least that’s what I told myself as I raced down the hall.

  By the time I reached the cafeteria, Tanner had already whisked around it in search of Burke. “He’s not here.”

  We walked up the steps to check the coffee shop. Nothing. “What next?” I bobbed my chin toward the bridge that led to the parking garage. “Go across here and check out the parking garage? Or go out at street level?”

  A teen girl walking across the bridge paused at the window and, pointing to the street below, screamed back to a security guard in the garage. “There’s a woman out there with a gun.”

  Pandemonium broke loose.

  Drawing our weapons, Tanner and I raced down the escalators and out the street level exit.

  My racing heart jumped to my throat as I skidded to a stop. “Aunt Martha?”

  “She’s trying to kidnap Henry,” she said, both hands clamped on a tiny silver pistol, her purse hanging from the crook of one of her arms.

  “Get her to cover,” Tanner ordered, maneuvering closer to Petra, who had a gun pressed into Burke’s ribs.

  As I moved to disarm my aunt before the approaching security guards took her out, Tanner ordered Petra to drop her weapon.

  Taking a backward step, Petra used Burke as a shield.

  Jabbing Aunt Martha’s gun into the back of my waistband, I flashed my badge to the stampeding security officers. “FBI. We got this.”

  They came to a halt, their gazes bobbing from Tanner and Petra to Aunt Martha and me.

  “Drop the weapon,” Tanner repeated uselessly as I edged toward Petra’s flank.

  Burke clutched his chest, not looking good.

  “Shoot her,” Aunt Martha shouted. “She looks like she’d make a good kidney donor.”

  “Get her inside,” I hissed at a security guard taking cover behind a nearby car.

  “How can you live with yourself?” Aunt Martha continued ranting at Petra as the guard bodily escorted her toward the hospital entrance.

  But to Aunt Martha’s credit, she’d distracted Petra long enough for me to get in position so that she couldn’t shield herself from me and remain unexposed to Tanner.

  Cruisers swerved into the parking lot.

  “Drop the gun, Petra. You’re out of options.”

  Petra didn’t try to guard her flank from me. Instead she turned a spine-chilling grin in my direction. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? This is your fault. If you hadn’t gone digging around in East St. Louis, I wouldn’t have had to worry about Burke losing his nerve.”

  “It’s over, Petra. We’ve already got his testimony. Drop the gun.”

  “Or what? You’ll shoot me? Because you always get your man?” she taunted.

  Burke’s hand splayed over his chest. He didn’t look like he’d hold out much longer.

  “But you don’t always get him, do you? You haven’t figured out who killed your grandfather yet.”

  How did she know about my grandfather? I tightened my grip on my gun, fighting to not let her rattle me.

  She cackled. “No, I didn’t think so. See, that’s why you won’t shoot me, because I know who killed him.”

  My breath stalled in my throat as my peripheral vision caught sight of a sniper taking up a position behind her and dozens of other officers crouched behind their cruisers, their guns aimed at her too.

  Suddenly Burke buckled over.

  Gunfire exploded from every direction.

  “No!”

  25

  I fought to wrestle free of Tanner’s hold on my arms as hospital staff whisked Burke and Petra inside on gurneys. “I need to talk to her.”

  Tanner’s grip tightened. “She’s not talking to anyone right now.”

  “She can’t die. She knows who killed my grandfather.”

  “Or she knew which buttons to push, like she did with Burke and with the senator.�
�

  I stilled. “But how?”

  Tanner’s expression softened. “She could’ve researched your family history. Eavesdropped. Made good deductions.”

  I recalled Billy’s similar deduction as we’d chatted about my job while he changed my tire. But he’d known me all my life.

  “You need to let it go.” Tanner’s hold on my arms loosened. “We’ve got a crime scene to help process.”

  I nodded, and he turned to the officer waiting to question us. I spotted Aunt Martha answering another officer’s questions, Carmen at her side. Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to stomp over and read him the riot act for giving her a gun. Except Mom was going to kill me if they arrested Aunt Martha for a weapons violation.

  Blast. I headed toward them. My legs felt as if they were encased in cement, growing heavier by the second when Aunt Martha plunged into a visual demonstration of how she’d tried to stop Petra.

  A few steps closer, I realized the officer questioning her was my childhood friend Matt Speers.

  He turned to me, smiling, as I joined them. “Sounds like your aunt saved the day.”

  “Uh, yeah. Petra might’ve gotten away if Aunt Martha hadn’t confronted her.” My fears for her lightened. It was the truth, after all.

  “Carmen and I went up to see the Burkes. Did I tell you the tests confirmed he’s a match?”

  “No! That’s great news.”

  Carmen ducked his head as Aunt Martha beamed.

  Matt cleared his throat.

  “Oh,” Aunt Martha continued. “On our way to the room, I saw another friend I knew and stopped to talk to her, while Carmen went on. That’s when I saw that woman walking unusually close to Burke. I thought she might be his daughter, so I tried to catch up to them to introduce myself and saw she had a gun pressed into his side.” Aunt Martha shifted her gaze from Matt to me. “If I’d known you were here, I would’ve called you. Anyway, I managed to jump into the same elevator as them, so I pretended I didn’t know anything was going on and hoped a security guard would be close by when we stepped out.”

  Carmen shook his head. “Security’s never around when you need them.”

  “I didn’t want to risk losing them by going off looking for one,” Aunt Martha went on. “So I made a show of holding the gun on them”—she demonstrated once more—“figuring that would get the 911 calls going.”

  “You’re lucky Tanner and I were the first on the scene or the police might’ve prioritized taking you out.”

  Aunt Martha’s gaze dropped to the blood staining the parking lot where Petra went down. “Oh.”

  Carmen tucked her arm through the crook of his. “But everything worked out. That’s the important thing.”

  Not everything. Petra might not survive.

  “Was she the art thief?” Aunt Martha asked.

  “I can’t discuss the case.”

  Aunt Martha visibly deflated. “It was just I heard Burke tell hospital staff that her name was Petra Horvak.”

  “That’s right,” I confirmed, since that much would soon be on the news anyway.

  “It’s not that common a name and yet it seems so familiar.”

  Because of someone connected to Granddad? My heart did a crazy jog. “Familiar how?” I blurted, unable to keep the hope from my voice. Aunt Martha couldn’t have heard Petra’s claim. She’d already been escorted inside the hospital by then.

  Aunt Martha squinted as if it would help her wrack her brain more easily. “It’s no good, I can’t place it.”

  “If she works at the art museum, you probably saw the name on her name tag,” Carmen said.

  “Hmm, you’re probably right.”

  But what if that wasn’t the reason? What if—?

  Tanner tapped my shoulder. “We need you over here.” Only instead of leading me to the officers he’d been talking to, he ushered me to a quiet corner behind the mobile command post.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The compassion in his eyes knifed through my heart. “Petra didn’t make it.”

  My knees buckled, but Tanner held me steady.

  “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping she had information about your grandfather, but I think it was a ploy.”

  “No, Aunt Martha recognized her name.”

  “But Petra was your age, which means she would’ve only been ten or eleven when your grandfather was murdered.”

  My shoulders sagged, defeat washing over me.

  “And her name wouldn’t have been Horvak back then,” Tanner added softly.

  My gaze snapped to his. “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?”

  “The name. If the name’s familiar to Aunt Martha, it could be because someone in Petra’s husband’s family was connected to my grandfather.”

  Tanner hesitantly nodded. “It’s something you can look into,” he said, not sounding all that assured the inquiry would go anywhere.

  But my hope resurged. It was a start. “Burke might know something too. When he started getting antsy about my investigation, Petra might’ve confided that she had information I wanted, in hopes of bolstering his confidence.”

  Tanner still didn’t look convinced. “For now, you need to concentrate on wrapping up this case.”

  “Right.”

  Zoe rushed toward me, clasping Jax’s hand, just as we were finishing up in the hospital’s parking lot.

  “It’s okay, let them through,” I called to the officer manning the crime scene perimeter.

  “Is it true?” Zoe asked breathlessly. “Did Petra try to kidnap Burke? Is he okay?”

  “He had an angina attack, but it sounds as if he’ll be fine. You didn’t have to interrupt your skating date to come down here. You could’ve just called.”

  “We were heading out for dinner when we heard the report on the radio. So what does this mean? Is Petra the thief?”

  “Let’s talk over here.” I steered her away from the milling officers, and she reluctantly released Jax’s hand. “How’s the date going, by the way?”

  She blushed. “Pretty wonderful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” I gave her a brief summary of the suspicions I was at liberty to share, which didn’t include why Petra kidnapped Burke, but Zoe was so relieved to know that I solved the case, the omission didn’t seem to register. It was kind of unsettling to realize that even I’d had a price—hesitating to shoot her because of her granddad comment.

  “I guess she didn’t tell you where the Monet is now?”

  “I doubt she knew.” My voice hitched at the finality of how that sounded. “The painting has changed hands at least twice since she sold it. But my counterpart in France will continue to try to track it down. We might find it yet.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Just doing my job. Now go back to enjoying your date!”

  She grinned. “Thanks for that too.”

  Tanner joined me as Zoe and Jax walked away hand in hand. “Another matchmaking accomplishment?”

  I shrugged.

  “You did good. Made a lot of people happy today. I suspect your mom might even bake you another cake.”

  I slugged his arm, knowing he was probably right. “She’ll be expecting me for Sunday dinner. You want to come? After all, it was a team effort.”

  “Sorry, I got me a pair of Blues tickets for tomorrow night.” He winked.

  Ah, yes, the bribe that had gotten him to the last family dinner.

  I sloughed off the rejection with a carefree wave of my hand. “Your loss.”

  Standing on my parents’ front porch Sunday evening, I inhaled a deep breath. I should be happy. The case was solved, I’d alerted the feds to a black market baby scheme operating in the state, one of the two paintings had been recovered, and Mr. Burke would escape jail time. But even after grilling Petra’s ex-husband about family connections to the art world or my grandfather and coming up empty-handed, I couldn’t escape the stomach-churning feeling I’d let the one chance t
o identify my grandfather’s killer slip through my fingers.

  The door burst open. “What are you doing just standing there?” Mom exclaimed, dragging me inside. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  The aroma of something baking—spice cake, if I wasn’t mistaken—tugged a smile from my lips. No matter how much Mom would rather see me in a safer job, I could always count on her to celebrate my successes.

  Dad padded in from the living room and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Aunt Martha told us you solved another case. We’re so proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” I swallowed the lump edging into my throat at the thought of the lives lost in the process. “We haven’t recovered the second painting.”

  He patted my shoulder. “The difference between what you get and what you could’ve gotten is greed,” he expounded in his usual investment-based words of wisdom. “I was just telling Nate that investors always regret selling too soon, or not soon enough, and if they don’t learn to let go of the regrets, they’ll fret themselves into an early grave.”

  Yeah, I knew all about regrets. I’d been second-guessing my reaction to Petra ever since the shootout. I unzipped my coat. Wait. What? “Nate’s here?”

  Dad helped me untangle my arms from my coat sleeves. “Your aunt invited him for the celebration. After all, he did save her from one of the bad guys outside your apartment last week, right?”

  Nate appeared at the corner, sporting an amused grin. “It was more like I kept her from running after the guy and getting into worse trouble.”

  Aunt Martha swatted his arm. “Watch it or I’ll uninvite you.” As Dad wandered back to the living room and Mom bustled off to the kitchen, Aunt Martha hooked her arm through mine and drew me deeper into the entranceway. “Did you bring me back my gun?”

  “Your gun? Carmen didn’t give it to you?”

  “No, it’s mine.”

  “Do you have a permit to carry concealed? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Oh, man, Mom would have a bird if she knew. “But you know it’s illegal to carry a gun into a hospital, right? You’re lucky Officer Speers didn’t charge you.”