I heard Eddie hang up the receiver.
“What the—”
I turned around. Neil was staring at the breakwater photo of Jennifer.
Chapter 22
My stomach lurched. I didn’t even want him looking at her picture. I should have turned it around. His eyes leaped around my work station, and I realized it wouldn’t have done any good. At least four other photos of her were highly visible, on the shelf of reference books, next to my in-box, and tucked between the monitor and the router. The formal wedding portrait, with the crown of braids; Jennifer and me at Stonehenge; the five-by-seven Cecile Caron had given me of the pigtailed girl looking out over the rail fence; and the snapshot he focused on next, taken at Fort Preble. She had the Rapunzel look, one long braid hanging over her shoulder, and her face was sweet and trusting. Her navy-blue T-shirt said UMO in huge letters.
“I can’t believe it.” He took a step toward it and bent toward the pewter-framed picture.
“Sir, you’ll have to come with me now,” Eddie said quietly.
“I’m going home, Ed,” I said, and he nodded.
As he guided Neil toward the elevator, I called the sergeant’s desk. Cheryl answered.
“This is Captain Larson. Eddie’s bringing a prisoner down for booking. Please have an officer meet them at the elevator.”
I picked up my briefcase and took the stairs, beating them down there. Neil turned and looked at me as they stepped off the elevator. Cheryl Yeaton punched the security code to the booking area for Eddie. The incredulous look was still on Neil’s face.
*****
Beth left as soon as I got home. She had to be up early for school. I made myself a mental note to send flowers to her classroom the next day.
The furnace was on, and it was cozy in the house, but I lit the fire anyway. I brought the log cabin quilt from our bedroom and wrapped it around Jennifer and sat in a big armchair by the fireplace with her on my lap.
“What happened tonight?” she asked, every muscle in her body tense.
“Like I told you, we took in a suspect for questioning. After we’d talked to him, Eddie took him into custody.” I looked into her solemn gray eyes. “Jenny, it was Neil Daniels.”
She didn’t blink, but sat there staring back at me for about ten seconds. “You arrested Neil?” she finally asked in a small voice.
“I had Eddie do it.”
“You didn’t hit him or anything?”
“No. I didn’t so much as spit on him.”
“Thank you. What did he do?”
“We’re pretty sure he bought a stolen painting, but it’s bigger than that. He works at the Lexington Museum of Art, and it’s looking like he commissioned art thefts through Eric Stanley and sold the paintings Eric’s crew stole to private collectors.”
She put her hand up to my stubbly cheek.
“That was hard for you.”
“Extremely.”
She nodded. “He had a good job at the museum?”
“Yes. Assistant curator.”
“What he always wanted to do. Why would he risk losing that?”
“Got greedy, I guess. His salary wasn’t very big.”
She looked toward the snapping blaze in the fireplace. “Will the charges stick?”
“I think so. Eric Stanley has given us quite a list of paintings he sold to Neil. He sold stuff to other people, too, but lately they’ve done a lot of business. I’m surprised we hadn’t made the connection earlier, except that he lives out of state.”
“He had a position of trust,” she said.
I sighed. “His big mistake was giving one painting to his sister. He must have thought it was safe, and if someone saw it and made the connection, he could claim he bought it in good faith and didn’t know it was hot. Must not have realized it was stolen from a house just a couple of miles from his sister’s.” I shook my head. “I felt sorry for Jodi.”
“I met her a couple of times,” she said. This merging of unwanted episodes from our lives was too unsettling, and we sat in silence. Her boyfriend’s little sister. They probably got along. If she’d married Neil, Jodi would have been a bridesmaid. I felt mildly nauseated.
My phone rang, and I answered. It was Eddie. Jennifer took the quilt and headed for the bedroom.
“Jodi’s been here,” Eddie said. “She tried to bail her brother out, but the bail hearing won’t be until morning, so she left alone.”
“Good. Let him sweat tonight. She didn’t drive his car, did she?”
“No,” Eddie said, “and we got the keys from him. I sent a marked unit to Jodi’s house to recover the Landers and the four paintings belonging to the museum, and to search the house and Neil’s luggage and car.”
“The warrant came through that fast?”
“Yeah. I called Mike to ask for help expediting it. And when Browning speaks, minions listen.”
I laughed. “And judges, apparently.”
“Oh, and I got hold of the chairman of the museum’s board of trustees, and they will send someone up here tomorrow to take possession of their paintings at the police station.”
“You’ve been busy. Good work, Ed. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll want to check on Jodi’s antiques tomorrow, I think.”
“You think they’re all stolen?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Oh, I called the Lexington P.D., too,” he said. “They’re getting a warrant to search his house down there tonight.”
“Great.”
“Is Jennifer okay?” Eddie asked.
“Yes. I told her, and she’s coping.”
She was spreading the quilt out over the comforter on our bed when I got to the doorway. She had changed into her Portland Fire Department T-shirt, and it hung halfway to her knees. She folded back the blankets on her side.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
I caught the faint sound of an engine. “Abby’s driving in.”
I went out to meet her, and she came in through the kitchen to the sunroom.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“Great! I love it. Much slower pace than the ER. I hope I’m still in Obstetrics when you guys have your baby.”
“Me, too,” said Jenny, coming to the bedroom doorway.
“Get enough of those T-shirts and you won’t need maternity clothes,” said Abby.
“I couldn’t wear my favorite jeans today. I’m getting fat.” Jennifer rubbed her stomach, but it didn’t look any different to me.
Abby laughed and headed for the stairs with a cheerful, “Goodnight. I’m beat.”
“I’ll tell her about Neil in the morning,” Jennifer said. “After I’ve slept on it and you’ve made up for being so late tonight.”
“I’m really sorry about that.” I reached for her and pulled her close. “I didn’t intend to leave you alone. Are you upset that I didn’t tell you earlier it was Neil?”
“No. You had to go where the evidence led you, and I’m glad you didn’t just drop it on me over the phone.”
I started unbraiding her hair. “I wanted to be here with you. It was so hard, meeting him like that.” She tucked her hand into my holster strap, and I sighed deeply and kissed the top of her head. “Get into bed, gorgeous.”
I went around turning off lights and checking the dying fire and the locks, then shaved quickly and climbed into bed beside her. She burrowed in on my shoulder, and I put my hand over on her tummy. Finally, I could feel a tight firmness that hadn’t been there before.
She covered my hand with hers. “That’s him,” she whispered.
*****
I went to Eddie’s in the morning and ran with him and Jeff, and I told Jeff about the arrest of Neil Daniels.
“I never liked that guy. He was arrogant.” He eyed me speculatively. “Is Jenn okay?”
“I think so.”
When I went home to shower and change, Jennifer was up and making breakfast. She looked okay. No, she looke
d great. She had on black pants and a coral-colored blouse.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
“Just into the study to work.” She looked down at her clothes. “I wanted to feel a little professional. I think I can wind up the program for John today, and I figured I shouldn’t be in my p.j.’s when I call him.”
While we ate, Abby staggered into the kitchen in her bathrobe.
“What are you up to today, Harvey?” she asked. “You’re dressed to kill.” I was wearing my best suit and Jennifer’s favorite tie.
“I’ll probably be at the courthouse this morning, and this afternoon Eddie and I want to get over to the shooting range and see if we can qualify with the new .45’s we’re getting.”
“New weapons. Wowzer!”
“Yup.”
“Anything happening in the art case?”
“Yes, actually, we’ve pretty much cracked that case. Cops in several states are scurrying around as we speak, tracking down middle men and stolen property.”
“So we’re not going to any more art club meetings? I was hoping you or Eddie would take me to one of those fancy exhibits.”
“I think we’re done with that for a while, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go and hobnob with the art people.”
“No, thanks,” Abby said. “It was only fun because it was mysterious.”
Jennifer walked to the garage with me in her sock feet. I tossed my briefcase into the Explorer and turned around to kiss her. She stood on the bottom step, which brought her nearly to my height.
“I hate to go off and leave you again,” I whispered.
“I’ll be all right.”
I said, “Call me after Abby leaves. I promise I won’t be late tonight.”
She clung to me for a few seconds, then said, “Go make Portland safe.”
*****
I considered sending Eddie alone to the courthouse but changed my mind. I needed to see it through. Jodi Daniels and her father came into the courtroom together. I sat near the back, as inconspicuous as possible, and Eddie did the talking for the department. The judge had dealt with Hubble the day before, and he set Neil’s bail high. The prisoner would stay at the county jail to await arraignment the next day.
Throughout the hearing, Neil sat with his eyes averted. His father seemed the stoic type, but Jodi constantly batted at tears with a tissue.
Later, an assistant D.A. came to our office to gather information. Word had come in from Lexington that the police there found a small amount of cocaine in Neil’s house. They’d also confiscated his computer and an address book, which had Eric Stanley’s name and number in it, among others.
They were calling the rest of the people listed in the book and had found a collector in Philadelphia who admitted buying a Redwall from Neil recently. Mr. Daniels had helped arrange the purchase privately, said the new owner, very hush-hush. He was offended when the police suggested his acquisition might be stolen. I faxed descriptions of the stolen Redwalls to the Philly P.D. They would pay him a visit and see if the painting was a match.
I called a florist and ordered yellow roses for Beth, to be delivered to her kindergarten classroom, with a note reading, “Thanks for being there when I couldn’t be. I’m glad you’re Jennifer’s friend.”
When I hung up, I looked up to find Mike striding toward my desk.
“Figured you’d be here. I pulled some strings and pushed my weight around. Your I.A. hearing’s at one.”
“Today?” I asked.
“You want your suspension lifted, don’t you? Because if you don’t, I suggest you go home. It’s already going to be hard for me to explain what you were doing in Scarborough last night.”
“Right.” I pulled in a careful breath. “I’ll be there. Your office?”
“No. The conference room on the first floor. Don’t you screw this up, Harvey.”
I nodded. Mike whirled and stalked to the stairway door.
I sat down and tried to catch a deep breath. Eddie walked over to my desk frowning.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure.” It was a long time since I’d made Mike really mad. “I need to pray about this. They’re holding my hearing at one o’clock.”
Eddie blinked. “We were going to the shooting range then. Want to go now?”
I really, really felt like shooting something, so we went. Our purpose in the outing was to try out the new side arms the department had ordered. Ron Legere had delivered five to our unit that morning.
“I could like this,” I said, hefting the Heckler & Koch .45.
Eddie pulled his out of his holster and dropped it back in a few times. “Not too bad. It will take some getting used to.”
It took a lot of prayer to not imagine the target was Neil Daniels. Eddie and I qualified with no problems.
“Too bad we’re so good,” he said. “Now we have to go back to the office.”
As soon as we got back, Eddie went to get some lunch, and I went to the locker room and took a shower. I put on a clean shirt, but even so, I was sweating through it by the time I got to the conference room. I knew Eddie was praying for me, and I gave Jennifer a quick call from the stairway.
“Send up some prayers, sweetheart. I’m about to go into my hearing about the shooting.”
“Okay.” She sounded scared.
“Everything will be all right,” I said, though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. “What are you up to?”
“Janice Parker is here. We’re having tea and cookies. Well, she is. I’m drinking milk.”
I smiled, thankful for the normalcy of it, and that Jennifer wasn’t alone.
At 12:59, I walked into the conference room. I knew everyone at the table—Mike and every division head, plus two officers representing the internal affairs department.
They grilled me pretty hard about the incident at my house, but I’d expected that and handled it all right.
“I understand you were back on the job yesterday,” Lieutenant Kirby said.
That stopped me cold. I glanced at Mike, but he just sat there like a stump.
“Actually, I mostly sat at my desk all day, catching up on paperwork and things like that. I had sat out most of Monday, and I guess I was getting a little antsy.”
“You went to the courthouse this morning.”
“Yeah, but only as an observer. One of my detectives was appearing.”
Ron Legere looked down at a printout in his hand. “What about this jaunt to Scarborough with Detective Thibodeau?”
I swallowed hard. “We got a tip about a suspect we’d made contact with previously, and we learned the person buying stolen art from him was in Scarborough. It was urgent, because he could have left the state with stolen goods, so we rode down there. He’d left already, but we were able to trace him to a family member’s home here in the city.”
“Who made the collar?” Mike asked. He already knew, and I figured he just wanted that asked and answered on the record.
I met his gaze. “Detective Thibodeau. I was just along for the ride.”
They asked me a few more questions, and it was finally sinking in that it would have been smarter for me to stay away from the station for the last three days.
Finally Mike said, “I think we all know Captain Larson has an excellent record. I happen to know that he pretty much stuck to non-essential stuff this week and spent a lot of time at home. Officers are allowed to observe in the courtroom on their own time, and to use the shooting range when they’re off duty.”
I shot him a glance. I hadn’t realized he knew about that. Even if he was mad at me, Mike still had my back.
“The captain’s stayed away from his desk most of the time since the incident,” he went on. “But we can’t afford to keep him off the job much longer.”
A woman in I.A. cleared her throat. “It looks to me as if the shooting was justified.”
They took a quick consensus, and Mike stood. “Okay. Suspension lifted. Harvey, you’ll see the psycho
logist next Friday at eleven.”
“Sure. And thank you. All.”
I hurried out into the hallway on Mike’s heels.
Once we were in the stairway, he turned around and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Don’t do this to me again. You shoot somebody, you back off and don’t come near this building until I tell you to.”
“Right.”
He sighed. “I’m glad it doesn’t happen often. Now, get back to work.”
Chapter 23
I got home fairly early, and Jennifer wanted to hear all the details. I was honest with her, even though it set her to worrying again. We sat down and prayed about it, then and there. I felt a little better, but not completely.
She started getting supper ready, and I sat at the kitchen table, too fatigued to even go change my clothes.
“It’s shocking, this impulsive side of yours.” She threw me a fretful glance. “I had no idea work would get to you like this. You were always so calm and efficient before.”
“Sometimes the façade slips. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” She turned down a burner, came over to stand behind me, and started massaging my neck, which felt great. “Tell me when things are tying you in knots, baby.”
I nodded. “I never had anyone to share it with before. I’ll try to do better.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” She walked into the entry and opened the door. “Mike! Come on in.”
“Thanks, Jennifer.”
My stomach fell about three stories, and I wondered if he was going to chew me out worse than he had that afternoon. I shoved my chair back and stood.
“Mike. What’s up?”
“Just thought I’d stop by on my way home and look at that floor you had refinished.”
“Oh. Okay.” I took him into the sunroom. Our house wasn’t on his way home.
“Looks pretty good,” he said, eyeing the oak floorboards. “You did a good job getting rid of the blood. Where was the body?”
Jennifer stayed out of the room while I retold the story of the burglary, showing him where Foster had stood and where the lead had hit the door and the bedroom wall.
Found Art (Maine Justice Book 3) Page 25