Three_Deception Love Murder

by K. J. McGillick

  “So why was she there last night?” I asked.

  “Last night she picked up a text from what we assume is a burner phone. The text was apparently from Jude. The instructions directed her to take the paintings from the studio and leave them on the bench at the dock. An associate was supposed to retrieve them for transport. She showed us the text, and that’s all it said,” Jackson said. “Once we were sure no one had seen us busting her, we activated the tags on the paintings and had her leave the paintings on the dock. Sure enough, three hours later a lightweight motorboat showed up and took them. We captured good pictures of the two guys picking them up, but they were nobodies. They looked like kids in their late teens, out to make a few bucks for an easy job. We activated the trackers on the paintings anyway. We’re following their movements to see where they land,” he said showing the trackers were in transit.

  “Okay. From the top and I won’t interrupt. Give me everything,” I said. An uninterrupted debrief was the most efficient way to handle the information.

  “The girl’s name is Diana Chin. She’s fourteen—friendly enough kid. Her parents had just started up a home school program for her because of bullying issues at school. She met White through her parents. Her mom cleans their house, and the father is their landscaper. One day when she was with her mom while she was cleaning the house, Diana was sitting in the den sketching. White noticed her talent. It’s sickening, but he swooped in and started refining her talent. He’s taken advantage of her naivety for the last two years and helped her develop into a master forger. Mom would show up to clean and food shop. Dad was shoveling snow or cutting the grass. She painted while they worked. She said the time she stayed varied, but it was somewhere around two to four hours at a time. Sometimes he would pick her up if he needed her to complete something or had a particular project and it was outside the time her parents were working. She said she could put out four a month. Expressionists were faster. The other artists like old masters were slower. Either way, he assured her and her parents a base payment of two grand a month, tax-free, sometimes more if she had a more complex project.”

  “She hasn’t heard from him directly?” I asked studying the picture printout. She was a cute kid.

  “Mom apparently had been sick, so she didn’t come around this week. And she hadn’t heard from him. She didn’t know what was going on and then received this text from him, or someone who is pretending to be him,” he replied and brought up the text on the screen.

  “Holy crap. It just hit me—at least four paintings a month times twenty-four months. I can’t even fathom where all those paintings are right now. Museums, auction houses, private collections are vulnerable to White’s fraud. And we have squat to go on regarding who now owns the fakes. Christ. When the shit hits the fan with this, it’s going to rock a lot of worlds,” I said.

  “Yeah. That’s just the beginning because besides the paintings he also had her working on pastel and charcoal drawings at home in her spare time. From what she was describing most likely Degas and Lautrec. That guaranteed her two thousand a month,” he said bringing up some of the charcoal drawings she kept on her phone.

  “What about Roselov?” I asked.

  “He’s still around. I’m guessing he is still trying to locate the canvases White took from the gallery, and the paintings he asked Emma about. Or trying to figure a way into the studio. I don’t know why, but I think something bigger than the paintings from Boston is in play here. Maybe he coordinated the pickup at the dock. Perhaps he wanted to see if the girl could get inside. And if so, he could come back with her and force her to let him in. We don’t know yet. We are monitoring the phones and studio. Now if Roselov knows Diana can get in, he might contact her again. And that is if it was him,” Jackson said. I could tell he was processing several scenarios and trying to drill it down to the most logical.

  “What are we going to do about the girl?” I asked.

  “We are sending her home with her parents and a female agent to wait and see what happens,” he said. “She seems like a decent kid. Naive and remarkably talented. Her parents love Emma and trusted White. Plus, they appreciated the added money.” Jackson stood for another beer run.

  “What a mess. But that’s a good plan. Now, what are we going to tell Emma? And get me some chips,” I yelled to the back of his head. That earned me a middle finger.

  “I’m waiting on a call from Thad to give us directions. We’ve got an hour to kill. Instead of chips you want pepperoni or sausage?” he asked.

  “That sounds great. Whatever you want,” I said as I leaned my throbbing head back. What a clusterfuck.

  The phone call to Thad concluded, and a decision was reached on how to talk to Emma about what had occurred. An hour and a half later, my feet were once again ascending the steps of her front porch. I guess Eloise brought Lucy back. As I rang the bell and was greeted first by Lucy barking, followed by Emma yelling behind her to get away from the door.

  “So, I have an update. It shouldn’t take long, and I will let you get back to resting,” I said.

  “No, no. Come in and have a seat. Give me one second. I was just getting ready to do the dreaded yoga,” she laughed.

  “Well, glad I was here to rescue you from that misadventure of making your body do things it should never do,” I laughed. Why was I picturing Em in the downward dog position and enjoying my fantasy?

  She came back and sat in her favorite chair, lifted her legs to the side, and curled her feet under her bottom. Hair in a messy bun, black yoga pants, and a slouchy white top had me thinking inappropriate things about this situation.

  “So, we’ve apprehended the artist of the forgeries,” I started out.

  “Oh my God, seriously? I hope you throw the book at that lowlife bastard,” she said swinging her feet to the ground as if readying for battle.

  “We don’t think she was an accomplice. She’s more like an employee who had no inkling what she had gotten herself into,” I said trying to calm her.

  “She. What the hell? Was it that woman masquerading as me?” Her breathing deepened and her face had reddened in response to her outrage.

  Leaning forward, I met her eyes so she would understand I was serious when I said, “It is Diana Chin.” I leaned back into the couch and waited for the explosion. She did not disappoint me.

  Emma rocketed from the chair.

  “What? No fucking way. She is a cute, quiet kid just learning not to fear her own shadow. Her parents had to take her out of school because she was bullied and had been cutting herself,” she said as she sat back down on the chair and dropped her head to her palms.

  “I will give you the highlights because that’s all you need here and now. Diana caught Jude’s attention one day when she sketched while waiting for her mother to finish cleaning. He saw a business opportunity pure and simple. He paid her to work, telling her the paintings were for friends to display in their homes. He paid her family two thousand dollars a month. Sometimes more, never less. This has gone on for two years. Last night, she received a text she believed was from White. The text relayed she should wrap up the paintings she was working on and leave them on the dock bench. She called a close friend who had a driver’s license to give her a ride here. Her mom is still ill, so she didn’t want to wake her at one a.m. in the morning. When she tripped our surveillance, we saw them and took her into custody at once.”

  “Oh my God. She must have been terrified. Maybe damaged for life. I hate that man,” she shouted again.

  “Jackson had her place the canvases on the bench as requested, and we waited until somebody approached and took them. Whoever is behind the pickup had roped in a couple of teenage boys, so we let them take off with the paintings.” I hesitated because Emma was getting worked up again. “I see you’re getting more steamed. We have trackers on the paintings so we can follow them anywhere in the world. Using Aunt Mary’s analogy, I hope it leads us to the third leg of the stool. We don’t know who contacted Diana, but we
are working on that,” I assured her.

  “Bastard!” she yelled. I could see tears welling in her eyes.

  “Pardon—” Was the curse aimed at me?

  “That bastard. He knew Diana was going through a rough time and he took advantage of that child and her family. This, Cillian, is beyond the pale,” she said, quick breaths causing her chest to rise and fall rapidly. I walked over and stood by her to calm her, but nothing helped.

  “Please tell me they aren’t going to prosecute Diana and her parents for any crime,” she begged. “They have been through enough. Diana’s mom developed breast cancer and lost her full-time job. She also lost her insurance. That’s how she came to be in Jude’s employ.”

  “We won’t be charging them in our division, but somewhere in the future, the IRS might get wind of this little side venture. That’s something they will have to figure out. But according to the family, White paid their taxes on their behalf. It’s common procedure for us to advise them to gather documentation to address any future problems. Plus, I am sure for their cooperation they should get blanket transactional immunity for known and unknown crimes. Who knows where and when all these paintings will surface? But she did keep pictures of some of them. I wouldn’t worry. From the interviews, it seems like they genuinely believed it was an odd venture. Diana thought he was selling them on Etsy or eBay, or as he’d claimed, to his friends. So, don’t worry. I believe we’ve got them covered,” I added.

  “If her usefulness is over will she be in danger? She could be a witness and may have to testify.” Hell, that was a good point.

  “We’ve got people on that. Other than what I’ve said, I can’t say anymore. You can’t tell Mary, but we will talk about this tomorrow with your attorney. I spoke to Thad about moving you to another location if you prefer. He said we could arrange that and get you settled in someplace new, but that’s up to you. Right now, you have no overhead here, and you can pocket your salary until the forfeiture goes through which will take three or four months,” I said.

  “Okay. I am so appreciative you have been thinking about me. Right now, I am so dead I can’t even think, so let me mull this over. I also wanted to know if I can share this with Eloise? She’s my best friend and a lawyer, you know. And right now, I honestly could use a person I trust to unload on,” she said.

  “Talk to Alexi. Maybe you can bring Eloise on board as counsel of record. That will cover attorney-client privilege, and you can blab to your heart’s content. I will let you settle in for the night unless you need me to stick around,” I volunteered.

  “No, you must have a lot of coordinating to do. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and I felt confident she had calmed down sufficiently.

  Out of camera view, I placed a kiss on her forehead and hugged her close, hoping she understood we were a team and everything would work out. The way she responded I sensed she got the message.

  I would never allow something to happen to this remarkable woman.

  “I’ll be back over tomorrow, and we will talk more. Sound good?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I’ll call Alexi first thing to clear Eloise to be read in. Dear God. To be read in? I am spending way too much time with Aunt Mary,” she chuckled pulling her hair down from the bun to hang loose.

  She walked me to the door. I surveyed the front of the house before heading down the steps with her watching from the doorway.

  Whether she realized it or not, her life had just gone straight to hell. White was now definitely twisting in the wind. We had his money from his safe deposit box and now his paintings. Desperate men do desperate things. I didn’t want him involving her further.

  Emma

  GOD THIS WAS THE WORST night ever.

  I needed to devise a plan for my future, but it wouldn’t be today. I was truly pathetic. When had I become such a wimp? I’d always had a plan and was never afraid to change course in life. Until Jude. He had been it for me and what an epic fail that was. I hated it when people said it was time to put your big girl panties on, but hell this was that time.

  I let my mind wander and contemplated moving to another country. Who wouldn’t give their right arm to work at the Louvre or Musée d’Orsay? But let’s face it, Europe was very expensive, and if I had listened to Aunt Mary and snatched some of that money in the box, I’d at least have seed money. Listen to me. I have gone totally around the bend.

  A flash of panic gripped me. Change was never easy. I had to ground myself and remember I had a nest egg, no debt, and two months to find a solution. Today was not destined to be the first day of my new life adventure.

  Although staying in bed for the day seemed like a good plan, the yellow and azure sky peeked through the curtains to announce morning had arrived in Maine. My grim thoughts spanned the brutal reality that was my life. Was it too early to call Eloise and wallow in my misery to her? Of course not. It’s never too early. And Eloise was master level at wallowing. I could count on her to pick up some Dunkin Donuts and we could sugar crash together. Now that was a win-win plan.

  After a quick shower, I surveyed the bathroom and realized I would miss my teal luxurious towels. No, I wouldn’t miss them damn it. I will take every last one. That bastard owed me this and more, lots more. Toweled off and dressed, I realized I looked like a vagrant, but I didn’t give a flip. At least I smelled good.

  I hit speed dial to call Eloise and waited for her to pick up. Her dead-to-the-world voice on the other end did not deter me. I had a mission. I wanted to be miserable, and I had chosen her to be miserable with me. Hysteria was a real possibility.

  An hour later she tore up the driveway in her sporty red Beemer. It continually impressed me how she managed to stop within an inch of the garage door after she raced up the path at sixty miles per hour. One day I expected she would plow through the garage door, and Jude would flip his shit. In my frame of mind, that would be a bonus.

  I heard her yell my name as she barreled through the door. Averting any and all pet crisis that might have occurred, we made our coffees.

  “No offense, but you look like hell,” I said because it was the truth. A pot of fresh coffee would tune her up.

  “None taken. I was up all night with that Dotson case. I wanted to make sure I had every t crossed, and i dotted because that daughter-in-law gives Cruella DeVille a run for her money. I am not the most touchy-feely person in the world, but I feel sorry for Mrs. Dotson,” Eloise said.

  “Stop it. You wouldn’t worry yourself to death all the time if you didn’t care about these people. Remember that lady that tried to convince you her husband wasn’t dead but off somewhere with some young chick?” That memory made us both laugh.

  “How could I forget? She had his ashes, faithfully cashed his social security check every month and had been paid a quarter million by his life insurance. But by God, she wanted the satisfaction of a divorce on paper and just knew he had beat the system somehow. Good times,” she said as she filled her plate with a donut and five munchkins. “So, why am I here this early? Have you and Mary found a way to dispose of Jude and you need me for cover? Please, please say yes.” She air quoted the word cover for emphasis.

  “Aunt Mary has something in mind. But first things first. Here is a five-hundred-dollar retainer check. You are now one of my lawyers,” I said as I pushed a check her way.

  “What? Are you stupid? I would never charge you for any legal advice,” she insisted and pushed the check back at me.

  I stopped and made her look at me, so she knew I meant business. I slid the check back to her across the table, and I held it in place with my fingertips.

  “You want to be in the loop, then you must agree to some terms. Take the check and put it in your purse.” She thought for a moment and then slid it under her plate.

  “Okay, dramatics it is this morning. You win,” Eloise answered with a roll of her eyes. “So, let’s have it. But I must warn you, if you and Mary are in any way involved with madness and mayhem that’s for a criminal de
fense attorney. I’m wills, trusts, and estates, and that will not save you from being Betty’s bitch,” she stated firmly.

  “Jude has disappeared, but his car has turned up,” I blurted.

  She drummed her fingers on the table and thought about what I’d revealed and replied, “Well, it’s a nice car, so that’s good news. Maybe we can sell it.”

  “Let me think a minute. Um, no. Anyway, it’s burned to a crisp, and the police have it.” All I could muster was a slight grin.

  “Bummer,” she said as she popped a chocolate munchkin in her mouth and slipped a plain one to Lucy.

  “You’re my attorney now, and everything we discuss is confidential, right?” I asked.

  “So I’ve been told. I’ve never had to test that assumption. By the time it would turn into an issue, most of my clients are dead or mentally incapacitated. Are you going to eat that Boston crème donut?” she asked as she snatched the donut without waiting for an answer from me.

  “Jude is involved with an art theft and forgery ring.” I let that sit a minute as her eyes opened wide with the donut halted in the air halfway to her mouth. “And he involved little Diana Chin in the illegal operation. He had her forge paintings, and then he sold it as fine art,” I remarked.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Put that thought in reverse and back the truck up,” she said making a backward spinning motion with her hands. “First, that crap he handles and calls art is not fine art. For what he does he could use a group of preschoolers randomly throw paint on a canvas and put it up for sale. Why did he need this Diana Chin, and who is she?” she asked totally baffled.

  “You remember. She’s Nina’s, my housekeeper’s, daughter. She’s only fourteen, and she’s worked for him for two years,” I answered. My cup came down on the table too hard in protest.

  “Hasn’t he heard about child labor laws? What has she been doing?” she asked stuffing the rest of the Boston crème into her mouth.