by Kira Reese
“In a way, I can understand that. I can only imagine how precious the pieces are.”
Michael shook his head as if trying to shed cobwebs. “The police interrogated me regarding the stolen piece from your house. I know nothing of that, except when you told me that it was stolen.”
Now was not the time to tell him I sat on the opposite side of the one-way glass and listened to the interrogation. “The police probably brought you in since you deal in artifacts. They may have thought you had bought it for the museum after it was stolen.” He nodded his head and agreed with my assumption.
“I got a call from the Gallery of Corinth last night,” I said. “Jacques Lafonte asked me to sell him the black-figure artifact. I told him it was at the precinct. Juliette paid a visit to me last evening, as well. She wanted it back. In the meantime, I discovered she was the one I purchased it from at her garage sale.”
His eyes grew wide. “I can’t visualize Juliette holding a garage sale.” He waved his hand as if that was not important. “I am sure your vessel was once in the gallery. They should not have sold it to begin with if it meant that much to them.” He went on to tell me he was certain from my photos that the urn was the same he had once seen at the Gallery in Chartres.
There was one thing Michael Green did not know about the urn. Since he was friendlier than usual with me, I let my guard down. “I did not tell you that when I got it home the top on the urn was stuck. That is one reason I took it to the appraiser. And I wanted a monetary appraisal from Albert Stevens, too. Nick and I hoped there may have been hidden jewels inside it. The appraiser managed to get it opened, and there were ashes of a human being inside.”
If the back had not been on his chair, the curator would have landed on the floor. He stared at me. I waited. When he recovered, he asked, “Whose ashes are they?” He then stated perhaps they were ancient ones, which would make it even more valuable.
“I did not think they cremated bodies then,” I said. I had no idea if that was true or not.
Michael’s eyes told me he was somewhere else for the moment. I got the impression he was putting some sort of a puzzle together in his head. “I wonder why Jacques is trying to purchase the vessel. Usually Pierre oversees all purchases.” He shook his head again. “Of course, I do know the gallery is growing. Maybe Pierre leaves some of that up to Jacques now.”
Even though that was all possible, something nagged at me that did not seem right.
“I hope to discover whose ashes are in the urn, but that may be difficult to do. I wonder if Juliette knows someone’s cremains are in the vessel. I did buy it from her.”
Michael searched my face again. “Do not take this the wrong way, but how in the world did you manage to pay for the artifact? It must have cost quite a bit of money.”
I laughed at him. “I liked the looks of it and hoped it was valuable. In truth, I paid Juliette ten dollars for it. She accepted it. Of course, that is how she priced it to me to begin with.” Keeping my eyes on him, I explored his every reaction. His facial expressions told me a lot.
“I find it impossible to believe Juliette sold a rare artifact for a mere ten dollars. More than that, I cannot believe she did that without thinking of the real value. No wonder she wants it back.”
I glanced at my watch. The Robertsons would arrive on time. That much I was sure of. I stood and extended my hand. “I have an appointment at my office. Maybe we can meet again. Thank you for your time.”
I left Michael Green with his mouth still open and his eyes rounder than normal.
It took me over an hour to convince the Robertsons there was no sign of forced entry into their home. I assured them I was still interviewing people in the neighborhood and those they associated with on a social level. I drew a deep breath when they finally left. Natalie rolled her eyes behind them when they walked out the door. At closing time, we both left. She gave me detailed information on her interviews with those who surrounded the Robertsons. This case was going nowhere.
The next morning before I went in to my office, I dialed Chartres, France. After asking for Jacques Lafonte, I was on hold for a couple of minutes. When he answered his voice was upbeat. “I hope you are calling to tell me you will sell the artifact to me.”
“I don’t have it back yet. The robbery investigation is ongoing and the police need it for evidence. I am calling to find out if Pierre Sarkis is back in the gallery yet.”
There was a pause, and then he said, “No, he is not back yet. We do not expect him until three weeks from now. I am sure I can help you with anything you want to know about our antiques. Of course, my hope is that you will sell the black-figure artifact to the gallery. It would enhance our present collection.”
I chose to ignore his request and get to the bottom of why I called him. “I was sure he would be back by now. Someone told me he is the one who approves all purchases.”
This time Jacques’ tone edged with an icy crust. “He allows me to determine purchases when he is away. I am perfectly capable of taking over business when he is not here.”
“I don’t doubt you are as savvy as he is. I did not mean to infer you were not capable of assessing items that would fit into the gallery.” I hoped my voice was sincere. “Does Juliette know where he is? I would like to talk with him very much.”
“She is his wife. She probably knows his whereabouts. I believe she is in America at the moment.”
Jacques did not offer an address or phone number, both of which were already in my possession anyway. The next person to talk to was Ben. When I called him, I was told he was at a conference. I left the message for him to call me.
An hour later the detective returned my call. “Candy, I have more news for you. Speck’s lawyer encouraged him to tell everything he knew about the robbery. He took back his accusations of Michael Green. He knew he had no choice. There is much more to update you on. Can we meet for coffee someplace?”
I was glad Natalie did not ask questions when I called to tell her I would be in later. When Ben and I sat across from one another at the coffee house I could tell he was filled with news. I told him to spill it since I was in no mood for waiting.
“Speck admitted Michael Green had nothing to do with putting him up to the theft. He said he and Juliette Barbin met more than once down on First Street near the docks. She drove a black SUV and wore cheap clothes. He said he figured she fit in better in that area without her Seville and expensive attire. I asked him why she wanted it stolen since she had sold it to you.”
The black SUV stuck in my head. That was the vehicle seen picking up Speck when he surveyed our home before the theft. My eyes, as if set in concrete, were glued to the detective.
“Juliette told him she had to have it back,” the detective continued. “He did not know her reasons, nor did he care why she wanted it when she handed him his first ten grand. Once it was stolen from your house, he would get the remaining ten. A search of his apartment down on the east side near the docks turned up an envelope with ten grand cash in it. It was hidden under a less-than-desirable mattress.”
Ben said they had it in the evidence room to check for fingerprints or DNA that could be traced to someone other than Speck. Apparently, Speck was known to hire out for various crimes. This was just another job for him.
“We still have the puzzle as to why she wanted it back from you so desperately,” said Ben.
“It’s like I’ve said before. It has to do with the cremains. I think she knew the ashes were inside, and it was her way of ridding herself of the urn and evidence. Whoever the ashes belong to got there at her hands. I’m sure of it now. What did she have to say when you brought her in?”
“At first she was indignant, because we hauled her in, as she put it. She told us when she sold the urn to you at such a low price it was later that she knew she made a mistake. She meant to put a fake piece on the table that she had in her house.”
“I find that hard to believe, Ben. She is an expert in her field. There is no way she
made an innocent mistake like that. I think she is responsible for the ashes. When she got wind that I was a PI and searching for the owner she panicked. I’m surprised she didn’t high-tail it back to France right away in case whoever bought it found that it contained human ashes.”
“Her house is on the market again. Except for a bedroom and sitting room, she cleared everything out of the house. She told us she plans to leave next week. She may be required to change her plans.”
“What about Pierre Sarkis?” I asked. When Ben’s face showed a question mark I explained her marriage to the Gallery of Corinth owner. “They have a home in Chartres, France where the antique shop is. “Pierre is away and the gallery staff does not know where he is. I was told his wife would know, but I haven’t asked her yet. That is only because I did not think of it when she was at my house the other night.”
Ben picked up his cell phone. He pulled a wadded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and found the number he searched for. He identified himself. “Mrs. Barbin, I have another question for you. We need to know where your husband is. I believe he is the owner of the Gallery of Corinth in France?”
I could not hear her voice, but I took it that she was explaining where he was. When Ben hung up he told me the gallery owner’s wife did not know where he was. She told the detective he often left for a month or so at a time to get away from the intense study and discovery of artifacts. I gave Jacques Lafonte’s number to Ben in case he wished to talk with him. Again I explained why I thought he may tell the detective something about the whereabouts of Pierre Sarkis instead of giving me the information.
“I understand he is the one who always knows where Pierre goes when he takes a break.”
I thought if Pierre could be traced, he may know something of the ashes inside the urn. Michael had told me the vessel was once in the Gallery of Corinth. There was a remote possibility that the ashes were of ancient time. At the very least, Pierre would be the one to clear that part up.
“Pierre Sarkis may have the answer we need,” said Ben. “It is possible all of this matter concerns the theft of your artifact and nothing more.” The detective may believe that, but my investigative mind said there was much more to this story than a mere theft.
Chapter 14
Another Arrest
Back at my office, I picked up the folders on my two new cases. By now, Natalie had taken over the Robertson case fully. Hopefully, she could resolve it soon. It hit me as I read through the cases at hand that I wanted to see Juliette Barbin-Sarkis face-to-face again. I tried information and came up with nothing in regard to her phone number. I thought of calling Jacques Lafonte again to ask him for it, but doubted he would easily hand out that information.
By lunchtime, I told Natalie to extend her break. I went back to the computer and brought up Juliette’s name again. After a more intense search, I discovered her full last name. The only way to contact her or Pierre was through the Gallery of Corinth. I gave up for the moment on finding a way to contact the ancient history professor. While Natalie was away from the office, I delved into her work on the present cases. She was thorough.
“I’m back,” called Natalie. She handed me a large cappuccino, and I handed her a message.
“This is a personal message for you and nothing to do with cases,” I said. I thanked her for the cappuccino and took a sip of one of my favorite drinks. “You are doing a great job on these cases. I like your detailed method.”
She beamed and returned to her desk. I told her I would not be back in until tomorrow. “Leave whenever you want and just put the closed sign on the door.”
I drove in the direction of Juliette’s mansion. Sitting under the large oak trees near the empty lot, I watched. After an hour with no action, I drove to the precinct. I was surprised to see the Seville parked on the side of the building. The clerk at the front desk told me Ben was interrogating a suspect. By now we knew each other well, and she did not have to tell me to sit down and wait. I thumbed through an outdated sports magazine. Then I checked my phone for messages and finally resorted to checking the weather. That was of no consequence to me, but it did help calm me down. I knew the suspect being interrogated must be Juliette. I stood up and paced a couple of times. The clerk looked at me questioningly, which caused me to stop and read the most-wanted lists posted on the bulletin board. I was running out of reading material at that point.
Finally, Ben came to the front and handed the clerk a folder with instructions to enter the information into the computer. He noticed, me and the next thing I knew I was sitting across the desk from the detective. His eyes told me he had something big.
“We arrested Juliette Barbin-Sarkis a little while ago,” he said. “Your investigative work certainly brought us to this point. Until you found out about her, she would have remained an unknown to us. It was a lucky day you found her garage sale; luckier yet that you bought a valuable urn.”
It made me feel very good, but I wanted to get to the point. “What did you find out?”
Ben told me Juliette confirmed she knew the value of the urn when she sold it to me for a mere ten dollars. She knew there were human ashes inside the urn but was assured by someone from the Gallery of Corinth it would be impossible to unlock the lid on it. She wanted it gone from her possession and decided on the garage sale.
My mind overflowed with more questions. It seemed when Speck confessed fully, he did not leave doubt that Juliette masterminded the robbery at my house. In a way, it should have made his sentence go a little easier. Unfortunately, this wasn’t his first time in jail.
“I can’t believe she confessed so readily that she intended to get rid of the vessel on purpose.”
“I led Juliette to believe we knew everything, including the contents of the urn and the source of the ashes,” said Ben. “For such an intelligent woman, she fell for my ruse.”
“So whose ashes are they?” I asked.
“They belong to her husband Pierre Sarkis. He was murdered intentionally in the back room of the Gallery of Corinth in Chartres. He was cremated under a false name and his ashes were inserted into the vessel.”
When I asked Ben why the ashes were put in that artifact, he told me it was a piece of rare pottery that Pierre and Juliette fought over often. It was his prized possession for its historical value. She wanted it for her own and planned to sell it to a collector, who would pay big dollars for it.
“Why didn’t she just put him into a lesser piece and take the black-figure pottery for her own?”
“She told us by that time she was ready to forget the piece, and if Pierre liked it so much, he could just make it his grave. Those were her words,” said Ben. “I can’t figure out why she didn’t just throw it into the ocean or some other body of water.”
“I still don’t understand why she was so ready to tell you so much at this point,” I said.
We both remained silent for a few seconds and sank into our own thoughts.
“She may be covering up for someone else,” said Ben. “It is a possibility.”
“If that is the case, then someone is sure holding something over her head. If she did kill her husband, her lifestyle and career ends here. That is more than I can imagine she is willing to relinquish.” I thought about the Juliette I came to know. Perhaps she was tired of the secrecy plus the realization that Speck had thrown her to the wolves.
“If she is responsible for it all, maybe she held on to the piece thinking some day she would actually sell it for real money. She must not have been able to live with it with her husband’s cremains in it,” I said. “That means she was desperate to get rid of it the day I came along and saw it. I think she thought I was the usual scavenger at garage sales and would never be able to get the top opened. I have to say, it was sealed tightly. Nick mentioned it before I even thought of possible contents. To me, it looked like the top was not meant to come off at all.”
“Again, why didn’t she just dump the ashes someplace?” asked Ben.
“I don’t know, but I believe it could have been Juliette herself disguised as a man. She may have changed her voice to sound male. The little boy would have taken her for a man in that case.”
Ben told me they arrested Juliette for masterminding the break-in at my house. “In regards to the murder of her husband, she will most likely be extradited back to France to face murder charges,” said Ben. “That will come later.”
“Keep me updated as things unfold, Ben. I am sure more will come of this.”
He nodded and showed me to his office door. We made a good pair since both of us were tenacious when we set our minds to it.
It was only later when I sat with Nick to tell him of the unfolded events of the day that I wondered how Juliette managed to murder Pierre Sarkis.
“She had to have had help with that,” I said. “Think about it. She had to first do the deed and then be able to move the body. To look at her one wouldn’t think she had the strength to lift much weight at all. And what coroner wouldn’t look into the death before releasing the body for cremation?”
“Those are very good points. Since they faked the name of the victim, it is possible they knew the coroner well enough to keep him quiet.” Nick looked at me with admiration. “You have done a good job, Candy. Now let the police in France figure the rest out.”
That night, when I thought my eyes would finally close in a restful sleep, I jerked awake and got out of bed. I glanced at Nick who slept soundly next to my empty spot. I went to my computer and brought up the Gallery of Corinth once again. I then scrolled through photos of artifacts sold there. I discovered several 700 BC black-figure pottery pieces, all smaller than the one I owned. The gallery possessed many rare objects from other centuries. I was impressed. The three showrooms filled with quality objects and were artistically set to catch the eye of the observer. I then read the history of the shop.