Three_Deception Love Murder

by K. J. McGillick

  My mind created excuses and justification for all the materials. Perhaps Jude was getting ready to purchase something at auction, and this was all research or maybe curiosity. In my gut, I realized he was setting up the provenance of the painting on the easel to sell it as an original Picasso.

  My God, how long had this been going on? Had I, in any manner, been complicit in this farce or given him information unwittingly? No, that was absurd. Jude was an accomplished businessman. Why would he do this, what was his end game? The only purpose for the falsification of any provenance was to sell fakes as original art.

  I was unable to wrench myself from the stupor that had taken over. I was aware that Detective Marino was calling out to me, but all I heard was an echo of his voice. Taking slow even breaths, I eventually turned toward his voice. Did he believe I was part of this crime?

  “We still have the downstairs vaulted chamber to look at. Please do not touch anything. Although you have gloves on, we don’t want to chance leaving any fingerprints or any transference, so stay in the middle and don’t touch anything,” he said. With that, we went down the narrow concrete steps to a small area where he pointed the way to a steel door which was open wide. Detective Chavez waited for us at the door.

  Leaning against the walls inside the vault were about fifty uncovered paintings with white canvas tarps folded over to reveal what was beneath. Chavez was the first to speak.

  “There’s no doubt these are stolen paintings. These are the real deal. Some I recognize from a bulletin that had come across my desk earlier this year—they were stolen from a private residence. I believe three over here are on the FBI Art Loss Registry, and the remainder, who knows where they came from but here’s where they landed. Who knows how long any of them have been here or if he has a buyer waiting for them.”

  “So as nerdy and dimwitted as he looked in those black glasses, dickhead was a criminal mastermind,” Aunt Mary said shaking her head. “No, wait. I take that back. He wasn’t smart enough to be a mastermind, he was only a cog in the big machine. A stooge. A lackey.” She would have gone on, but Alexi stopped her with a raised hand.

  “Thank you for the running commentary, Mary. But right now, with all that is going on, I think it best you remain quiet,” Alexi said as she rubbed Mary’s arm. Chavez smiled at her as if to suggest great minds think alike.

  “Hey, I’m only pointing out what everybody’s thinking,” she said and shrugged her shoulders as if this was just taken for granted. “What do you think? A few hundred grand sitting in here? Maybe a million, give or take? You think he did the breaking and entering himself, or was he a crew chief? You certainly hit the jackpot here.” She was on a roll.

  “Well, our investigation is ongoing, and we are not prepared to state any conclusion.” Marino gave her a quasi-evil eye.

  “Yeah, yeah. Early days. Go ahead, tell me we don’t know what the hell we stepped in,” Mary taunted.

  “Oh, we are aware of what the hell we stepped in,” Marino shot back, taking her bait. Realizing he was becoming close to losing control he took a minute to collect himself. “And I can’t prove it yet, but I think your niece is in it up to her neck.” That promptly got him the middle finger from Mary.

  “Ladies, if you are finished here, could we please move on back to the main house. Agent Thomas is on his way with another agent, and will be there momentarily. Leave your foot protection and gloves with the officer at the door,” Chavez stated quickly trying to avoid all hell breaking loose.

  Like little soldiers, we marched in a single line to the house, each holding our thoughts to ourselves. Barely. Once the doors stood closed behind us and we were certain we were alone, the volcano erupted.

  Alexi was becoming increasingly frustrated with Aunt Mary as well as Marino, but she couldn’t decide who to blast verbally first. Finally, she said, “Mary, your sleuthing skills and desire to be helpful is commendable. But you are irritating Nick, and he is going to take it out on Emma.”

  “What did I say that everybody wasn’t thinking?” Mary asked.

  “We don’t need to do the police’s job for them. They are competent to deal with all the evidence. Now that said, you can share what you know when Agent Thomas and Nick speak to you in a few minutes. Only tell them what you have firsthand knowledge about, nothing more. Tell them what you have seen or heard, and don’t draw conclusions,” Alexi said.

  “Okay, I watch a lot of TV. Sorry I was a little overzealous with my thoughts.” That induced an eye roll from Alexi. No one liked where this was heading.

  “I know you legal people like the word hypothetically. Hypothetically, what we could be looking at is a crime. A felony. Right?” Aunt Mary asked.

  Alexi had to agree but responded with, “Look. This is just between us. But the circumstantial evidence looks dismal for Jude.”

  “There were materials in that building where he worked exclusively that seemed to be used for fake stamps, false letters and altered canvases. All things you need to produce a false provenance. And that would be a crime. But why the hell does Detective Marino think I have anything to do with this mess? God, he just hates me,” I said.

  “Everyone has to calm down and stop worrying over nothing. From a legal standpoint, we can’t conclude what Jude’s course of action was going to be with the paintings. But let’s be real, with Mary’s information and what we just saw, Jude is in deep. But the good news is, he isn’t my client or your worry,” Alexi said. “Let’s just stick with the facts as we know them.”

  “Well, that only goes so far. I know you are trying to make us feel better, but the paintings in the vault make this all look bad,” Aunt Mary said.

  “The paintings are not our problem. I want no speculation from anyone about anything period. Not our monkey, not our circus,” Alexi stated affirming a clean slate.

  “So, until they can interview him, no one knows what is going on, right?” I asked.

  “Circumstantial evidence goes pretty far, so we will have to wait and watch what dots they connect,” Alexi said. “They may choose to obtain a subpoena to poke around Jude’s finances and determine if he has left behind a paper trail of where the money comes and goes. They may be looking at possible involvement in a money laundering scheme, tax evasion, or just ordinary old grand larceny. Either way, at the least, we need to consider these law enforcers will be staying in your life for a while. Now the FBI should be here shortly, and I recommend you cooperate to the fullest. But, and, Mary, listen up to my instructions, they will ask you a question. Start with yes or no as a response. If they request more information, then answer with a fuller explanation, but don’t speculate.

  “If Agent Thomas asks you what time it is, say nine o’clock. Don’t look at your watch and say, ‘Oh, this old watch, it was given to me by my aunt Sally in 1978 and has been broken three times and pawned twice,’ got it?” Alexi demanded.

  “I’m starting to not be pleased with you,” Aunt Mary shot back as she fluffed her hair.

  “Perfect. That works for me.” She smiled at Aunt Mary.

  The front doorbell sounded. I sat straight up and felt like someone had electrocuted me. I was too paralyzed to move.

  Alexi went to answer the door. She returned with Special Agent Thomas and Special Agent O’Reilly from the FBI Art Crimes Team.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Is it not enough that Jude deceived and betrayed me leaving his dark stain upon my soul? Is there anything more devastating than deception and betrayal? Like a curse, deception lingers. Has Cillian deceived me as well?

  Cillian

  WELL, I HAD TO COME CLEAN with everyone about my role in the matter. Too much evidence was surfacing to hide my part in this investigation. Jackson was right. I should have had a plan formulated. Once Sam told me what they found, I knew I’d be knee-deep in the investigation from here on out.

  The shock registered at once, followed by anger on Emma’s face as she blankly stared at me. This was
a mess of uncharted territory, and I had no plan how to get us to a safe place. I had to fix this, but if I bungled it, I could lose her forever.

  “Good morning, everyone. I’m Special Agent Cillian O’Reilly, and I work for the Art Crimes Team of the FBI.” I looked directly at Emma.

  “Emma, I understand what I’m doing here is a shock, and until now I have not been allowed to share my role with you. In fact, had it not been for what the police found in Jude’s studio, you may not have known until the investigation was closed,” I said.

  This was not going well. Aunt Mary glowered at me, and the person I assumed was her attorney, Alexi Morgan, was tapping her foot. I turned my attention to the others in the room and continued. “If I could talk to Emma alone for a moment? I would appreciate it if you could give us a few minutes. I owe Emma an explanation in private, and I understand from Sam that he needs to speak with Ms. Morgan and Aunt Mary.”

  “I hope you came with a testicle protector,” Aunt Mary recommended.

  Yep, this was going to take some fancy dancing.

  Maybe she will freeze me out, or even pummel me when we walked through the back doors together. She might accept my explanation, but it’s not likely.

  Emma turned and walked through the back door, glancing back to invite me outside. I stepped out cautiously, wondering if she would slam the door in my face.

  Wow. Emma’s home was magnificent. Green manicured grass reminded me of back home in Colorado. Her style was evident outside, and the garden reflected her love of flowers. Brilliant orange, violet, and dark yellow flowers stretched their crowns to the sun after nighttime rest. The lake was cloaked in serenity and peace, temporarily blocking out the face of the impending chaos we were heading into. All this beauty, in the end, was spoiled by the money it took to acquire it. This land was not bought from honest hard work, but through greed. Blood money was the currency which made this house possible. It made the surrounding beauty seem tainted.

  I scrubbed my face in frustration as I struggled to find the words to explain my journey.

  “Speak,” she said as she leaned against the rail staring off into the lake absorbed in her thoughts.

  “Emma, I am sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I can’t start at the beginning because it’s an ongoing investigation, but I can share a bit of information. To be honest, from the information we had I thought I would be here one month tops, and Jude would already be behind bars. However, not only is Jude slick, but the network that’s involved was much larger than we originally assumed,” I said. Her disappointment was palpable.

  She continued staring out toward the lake lost in her world. Finally, she broke the silence. “So, if you could not close the case, perhaps there was smoke and no fire?”

  “In a word, no,” I answered, and that was the truth. We just hadn’t been able to catch White in the act.

  “Level with me. What is this about?” Her eyes reflected her feelings were a mix between hurt and confusion, but her voice had an edge of anger.

  “Come sit down.” I steered her toward the chairs, and she sat down on the yellow Adirondack chair. “I can’t give you specifics, but this case is big enough that it includes our various government departments, Europol, Interpol, and governments overseas. At first, I thought we were only investigating an art theft ring moving paintings and artifacts across the nation and overseas.”

  “Go on,” she said as she tilted her head backward and shut her eyes to take in whatever shock I was about to dish out.

  “Last year, a Titian painting was stolen from a church in Venice. The Brits discovered the stolen painting as it was being prepared for export from London, so they tagged it and watched it. They had the name of an art dealer in London who had taken possession of it and held it for a month before sending it on, so they always knew where the painting was. Then this guy Dmitri Roselov packed it and sent it to US dealers in Boston—where I picked up the trail. From there we lost track because the signal on the tracking tag died. But from what Chavez tells me, the painting has been in White’s vault which has security that blocks tracking bugs. Think of it as a signal jamming device. When we realized Roselov had a connection here in Boston, we put the dealers he was connected with on a watch list which led us to White,” I said.

  As Emma’s head came forward, she said, “So let me get this straight. One painting started this whole ball rolling?”

  I nodded. “But, it runs deeper, and without clearance from my boss, I can’t disclose more details. What I can say is the level of sophistication of the operation Jude is involved with took us by surprise.”

  “Oh my God.” I watched the wheels turning as Emma thought through the information I unloaded on her. “So those paintings in Jude’s studio—”

  “Fakes. The rest of the vault contents is likely stolen art. His studio is a treasure trove for us. Until now, he had evaded our traps, but now we have the vault. Many of the stolen paintings in the vault we initially chalked up to a gang of amateurs, and we had no idea he was involved. Last year, a few people had closed their summer houses for the winter, and the thieves had made their move to steal valuable collections from those homes. We were waiting for the art to surface, but if they have been shipped overseas, they would be lost to us. Some of the art stolen was insured. Others found buying insurance too expensive and had to take the financial hit without recourse. There will be a number of happy people when we finish this and they can claim their property,” I said.

  “That answers how you became involved, but why the teaching position?” Her tone revealed confusion still mixed with a trace of anger.

  “We followed the patterns and were convinced forgeries were leaving the Boston area—mostly ending up in Maine. Jude popped up going through Customs’ surveillance with a painting he was personally transporting to London. We put him under heavier surveillance. While we had him under surveillance, we observed a young man. He was a student who visited the studio to drop things off. Jackson and I were assigned to watch that person. But he turned out to be nothing more than a legitimate courier,” I said.

  Her neck turned so quickly my way I was afraid she would strain it. “Jackson? Are you trying to make me laugh? There is no way he works for the FBI. Jackson can barely chew gum and walk at the same time, and he expends more energy flirting than working as a teacher’s assistant.”

  Grateful the tension was broken I smiled. “I don’t know if being a flirt is personal or he’s playing a part, but my guess it’s probably personal. But I can vouch that not only is Jackson sharp as a tack and my partner on this operation, but he’s also a brilliant lawyer. We went to law school together and have been partners on this case for six months. What he knows about art law amazes even me.”

  She slapped the side arm of the chair and appeared to be preparing for verbal sparring. “You’re telling me you and Jackson work for the FBI and are both lawyers? Isn’t there a law which prohibits you from deceiving the public?”

  “Au contraire. The Bureau encourages us to deceive,” I laughed. “But I don’t want you to think they sent some yahoos here. I have a masters in art history and valuation certification training from my last job. After grad school, I took a job insuring art, and I was part of the company recovery team. Like the insurance chick in the Thomas Crown Affair. I liked my job in the insurance industry, and a bonus was it allowed me to finish law school. But, my marriage took a hit, and we divorced. I was fortunate enough to develop some relations in the Bureau through my job, and the rest is history.”

  “Whoa, I did not see that coming. But what’s Jackson’s story?” Easing back into the chair I could tell her hostility had ebbed.

  “Well, he worked as an assistant attorney for the US Attorney’s Office. Signing on with that department was a mistake on his part, and I told him so from the beginning. The caseload strangled him, and he was beyond miserable. He showed up to a couple of Bureau functions with me, got familiar with the gang, and when a position opened, karma was on his side. The Bur
eau offered him a job. Trust me the man is a brainiac. Don’t let his pretty looks fool you,” I said with a wink. “Sam snapped him up into the Organized Crime Unit, and with his background in computers he is invaluable to us.”

  “My mind can’t wrap around the fact Jackson is a lawyer much less an FBI agent. He is so arrogant and cocky. I’ve watched him work his GQ looks for months collecting a harem of women. I never in a million years thought he was anything other than a goof,” she said.

  I laughed because Jackson was good at handling women.

  “So, is there a student part of Jude’s operation? I hate to think a young impressionable person would be so misguided by him,” she pondered.

  “I cannot discuss specifics of the investigation. Like I said, we had our sights on an individual, but found out he was on the up and up. Now more to the here and now. I have no idea where White is right now. But we are working this with the Maine police as a missing person until we have further information,” I said. “Emma, this operation is more than forgery and theft. I need you to keep everything I’ve told you to yourself. It’s an ongoing operation, and lives here and abroad are at risk. The people involved are vicious people who behead young students for a laugh, so when I say Aunt Mary has to be kept out of the loop, I mean no disrespect. It’s a necessity.”

  Searching my face for a further explanation and no further questions forthcoming, she agreed.

  I stood and extended my hand to help her up.

  “I’m meeting Jackson in the studio, and we will be there awhile. After we finish, I’ll be joining Nick to interview the gallery owner where White picked up some canvases. From what I understand, the paintings he picked up are not in his studio and weren’t in the car, so it’s possible the person who torched the car has them. We need to get a better description of those paintings and wait to see if they surface. Why don’t you and Mary head out to shop or do something to keep yourselves busy? As much as I adore Aunt Mary, I don’t need her snooping around.”