“These must be the last two in existence in a private collection,” she said.
Dunn nodded and smiled proudly. “There are only seven left in the entire world. And you’re right, the other five are in museums.”
Natalie must have seen my blank look because she began to explain.
“There was a Kama Sutra-like ritual an ancient sect of Indians would perform in one of their temples. They carved eleven of these jade pieces. They also had a jade sculpture of their fertility god. They would place the carvings in a circle, with the sculpture on a pedestal in the middle, and then perform Kama Sutra acts with their mates inside the circle. It was believed doing so would help the couples conceive. The temple was torn down long ago, and over time, four of the carvings have been lost or destroyed.” She turned to Dunn again. “Several months ago, I heard the sculpture was stolen from a private collection.”
He nodded. “I heard the same thing. The location of the statue has been very hush-hush for the last ten years, ever since it was removed from India, suspected to have been stolen. All anyone knows is that it was in a private collection, but no one knows where. It was big news when it was rumored to be stolen.”
“I heard the carvings and the sculpture were in the same private collection,” Natalie said.
Dunn laughed. “I wish! But, no, I’ve never had the sculpture. In fact, I’ve only seen photos of it.”
“This sculpture,” I said. “It sounds expensive.”
They both looked at me the way people look at the special ed kid when he says something that makes no sense.
“‘Priceless’ is a better word,” Dunn said.
“No price has ever been fixed on either the sculpture or the carvings,” Natalie said, “because they are agreed to be priceless. However, they would easily fetch several billion dollars on the black market.”
“I’d say that’s a conservative estimate,” Dunn said.
“That’s a lot of money,” I said.
There was another sorry-for-her look from each of them, then Natalie turned back to the case.
“You never answered my question,” I said to Dunn. “Have you ever had anything stolen?”
“Why would you ask that?”
This is that thing people do when they’re lying—or are going to lie, in Dunn’s case. Honestly, I would have expected more from Dunn since he’s a lawyer. Aren’t all lawyers supposed to be liars? You’d think they’d be good at it.
“You have a lot of rare and expensive items in this case alone,” I said. “I imagine there are others throughout the house. People with rare and expensive items are often targets of theft. It’s a reasonable question. I’m curious why you’re unwilling to answer it.”
Dunn laughed. “Forgive me for being curious. No, I’ve never had anything stolen.”
“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me,” I said.
He laughed again. “Really? How do you figure?”
I held up the photo. “This woman, Danielle Dillon, beat the shit out of Jeremiah Vandreen a few weeks ago. This photo was taken at the time of her arrest. All those photos would have been given to you, as Vandreen’s attorney. Given the size of this house and the amount of money sitting in this case alone, I’d say you’re a pretty good attorney. It follows, then, that you are in fact familiar with the Dillon-Vandreen case. You lied to me when you said you didn’t recognize her.
“You also lied about having nothing stolen. Besides her connection to you through Vandreen, she’s somehow associated with your address. The other two addresses she’s associated with have had something very expensive stolen from them. Yours isn’t any different. That you’re lying about it makes me believe you know something you don’t want me to know. Naturally, I’m curious to know what that something is.”
His demeanor had changed dramatically. He was no longer outwardly jovial and relaxed. He was rigid, guarded, and angry.
“It’s time for you to leave, Ms. Grey,” he said. His tone left no room for argument.
I may not like to be ordered around, but I know when to fall back. This was one of those times. Whatever I’d sensed radiating from Eric Dunn the first time I’d met him was not money, at least not in whole. There was something else, something very much like power. I wasn’t afraid, but I knew I could be, and a smarter person might have been.
I was about to grab Natalie when I heard a voice calling from the front door. It was the only voice on the planet I never wanted to hear again.
“Eric, the door’s standing open!” Priscilla Casimir said. “Did you forget to close it?”
“No, I was just showing off my art collection,” Dunn called back. His friendly, carefree manner had returned, but under it I could clearly still see the anger. “Actually, they were just leaving.”
I did a mental eye roll. I really hate Priscilla. There was no way to get out unseen. I heard her stupid heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she came inside. Standing up a bit taller, I braced myself for impact, trying to think quickly.
“Let’s go,” I said, reaching for Natalie.
She seemed reluctant to leave. Throwing one last longing glance at the jade carvings and the Russian egg, she took a step toward me. I reached out and took her arm. Not roughly, but firmly, I pulled her past Dunn and toward the front door. We’d made it four steps when Priscilla came into sight carrying a paper grocery bag. She stopped dead when she saw me.
“Zoe,” she said in that tone. “What are you doing here?”
“I had a couple questions for Mr. Dunn about things that came up in the course of my investigation,” I said. “We were just leaving.”
I pushed Natalie on.
“What investigation?” she asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” I said without stopping.
“You know, I’m surprised to see you without Amy. You two are practically inseparable. You always were.”
I couldn’t really explain it, but the thought of Eric Dunn knowing about Amy, my Amy, someone closer to me than even a sister, made my stomach turn. Not only with disgust, but with fear. I’d never forgive myself if anything ever happened to Amy. I had no real basis for that fear, but I wasn’t willing to dismiss it, either. I didn’t understand enough of what was going on yet.
“You know,” I said, slowing and turning back to Priscilla. “High school was a long time ago. Amy and I aren’t very close anymore.”
“But at lunch, I saw you together. You were having lunch.”
“She had information about a case I’m working on. We met for lunch to discuss it.”
“But you said you’re friends.”
“We aren’t close anymore, but we both still hate you. We were only saying that stuff to get to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
I hustled Natalie out of the house and into the truck before anyone could say anything else.
15
I wasted no time in starting the truck and driving away. My nerves were frayed. I didn’t think I could withstand another encounter with Priscilla Casimir. Amy’s wish for something to happen to Priscilla’s face might come true sooner than she thought. Secretly, this was my wish, too, but I really tried not to run around hitting people.
I had just pulled onto Horsetooth when I saw the silver Cadillac behind me.
“Who’s Amy?” Natalie asked.
“The best thing to ever happen to me,” I said, watching the Cadillac closely in my mirrors.
“You’re a lesbian?” she asked, shocked at the idea.
“Not like that,” I said, irritated. “Geez, what’s the matter with you? I never would have survived my childhood if Amy hadn’t been there with me. Actually, I’m not sure I’d survive adulthood without her.”
“But you said you weren’t friends anymore.”
“Sometimes bad guys use the people we care about to get us to do what they want us to do, or to send us messages. I don’t really know what’s going on yet, but I didn’t want t
o risk anything happening to Amy. Of course, I’d be more worried about whoever they sent after her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say Amy can take care of herself.” Having taught me everything I know and knowing more still, this was an understatement.
I drove to Timberline and made a left.
“Where are we going?”
“The police station.” For the third time today. When I’d made that stupid crack about doing this all day, I hadn’t actually believed I would be doing it all day. It was getting old.
“Why? I thought you said my brother is busy.”
“Yeah, that’s not why we’re going to the police station.”
This time the Cadillac seemed to know what I was up to. When I turned left into the police station parking lot, it made the next right. After turning around in the subdivision, it stopped at the corner, waiting for me to leave the police station. Cussing, I parked and turned off the truck.
“What are we doing?” Natalie asked as I got out.
“We need to go inside for a few minutes.”
She carried on as we went inside, and I asked to speak with Ellmann. The officer behind the desk, now a man, made the call. I watched the Cadillac from the door while we waited.
“Miss?” the officer called. “He wants to speak with you.”
I took the phone from the officer.
“What’s going on?” Ellmann asked. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s about the Cadillac.”
“It was following you again?”
“Actually, this is the fourth time today. The driver knows I only came here to shake him or her. He or she is waiting in the subdivision across the street for me to leave.”
“Stay inside. I’ll send someone to check it out. Don’t suppose you got a look at the driver.”
“No, don’t suppose I did. By the way, the windows are tinted way beyond legal.”
Hey, we have laws about that sort of thing in Colorado.
“I’ll be sure to have the officer follow up on that.”
We disconnected.
I informed Natalie it would be a few minutes, and she huffed as she flopped down onto the sofa. While Natalie fussed, I went back to the door and peered out. About ten minutes passed. I wondered how long the Cadillac would wait. Then, as if finally catching on to the game, it tore out into traffic and zipped down Timberline. The police officer Ellmann must have sent had only been about a block away. He saw the Cadillac whip out in front of him, then he flipped on his lights and sirens, taking up chase. Leaving them to it and satisfied the coast was now clear, I turned back to Natalie.
“All right, let’s go.”
“What, we just had to sit here?”
“Look,” I said to her as we walked back to the truck. “You’ve been pretty useful to have around this afternoon, but all you do is whine. If you’re going to tag along, you’ve got to stop it.”
“I whine? I’m just telling you what I want.”
I pulled out of the lot.
“No, you’re bellyaching because you can’t have your way; that’s not the same thing. I’m not a patient person anyway, but I’m running particularly short today. I can’t take anymore.”
“Fine. Why don’t you just take me back to Alex’s?”
“I’m tempted to, but I promised I’d entertain you for a while. He’s stressed enough without you calling and whining every five minutes.”
“I want to go back to Alex’s house.”
“See? That’s how you tell someone what you want. Unfortunately, it’s not going to happen.”
“Where are we going?”
“The place I work. I have to look up some things.”
“Why can’t we go talk to some more people?”
I shot a glance at her across the truck.
“You were actually having fun, weren’t you?”
“Fun? I don’t think so.” She was doing a bad job of hiding it.
“So my lame job of driving around looking for people all day is actually kind of fun, isn’t it?”
“I will admit, I was able to view two private collections I would have otherwise never been able to see, both of them containing really rare and unique pieces. But it’s pushing it to say it was fun. I think sitting around your office while you do research will be boring, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Well, with any luck it won’t take very long.”
“Then we can go talk to some more people?”
I thought about where I was with the Dillon case. I felt like I’d made progress, but that progress hadn’t brought me any closer to finding Dillon. And I wasn’t sure what my next move should be, so I didn’t know who I might go talk to. Cory Dix was still hanging out there, though. If she really wanted to do something exciting, I could let her chase him around for a while.
__________
When we got to the office, I parked in the main lot and used the front door. The weekend receptionist smiled at us as we passed, busy talking on the phone and working at the computer. The door to Amerson’s office was open. Despite it being a Saturday, the man was still at the office. In fact, as far as I knew, Amerson was at the office from open to close every day of the week. This didn’t leave much time for a personal life, and I wondered if the military had squashed any ideas he might have had for a personal life a long time ago. This thought made me feel sad for him.
“This is where you work?” Natalie asked, looking around.
“Yep.”
Through the window, I saw Amerson stand, hang up the phone, then pick up a file and move around the desk. We were just passing his door when he came out of his office.
“Grey,” he said. “Where’s Dillon?”
“I’m working on it. How’d it go with Zornes last night?”
“Bagged him. Now it’s your turn.”
Yeah, right. It had taken three guys with more than twenty years of combined experience the better part of six days to track Zornes down. I was one girl with a whopping four weeks experience and had only been looking for two days. It wasn’t really a fair comparison.
“Is this your boss?” Natalie asked.
Amerson and I both said no at the same time.
“You ever tried telling her what to do?” Amerson asked Natalie.
She scoffed and shot me a dirty look. “Yeah.”
“So you know it’s a lot like herding cats. I don’t bother.”
“He just nags instead,” I said, moving away from them. “Why don’t you two commiserate about me for a few minutes while I check out a couple things?”
Before either could respond, I turned and hustled down the hall. I ducked into the workroom and saw another part-time guy at one of the computers. After a head nod and a “What’s up?” I found a chair and we both turned to our work. My legal-pad notes were getting to be a dozen pages long. I needed to get reorganized and try to assimilate what I’d learned with what I thought might be going on.
My first step was to run any new license plate numbers I’d written down. This is always the most tedious part, but when something comes of it, it’s worth every bit of effort. So far, I’d compiled an impressive list of plates and not a damn thing had come of it, but I was—deep down—an undying optimist.
After checking the plates against DMV records, I punched them into the spreadsheet then sorted them by plate number. Not surprisingly, there were no duplicates. Next, I sorted them by location. I ran my finger down the list quickly, not expecting to find anything. Then I saw it, the name “Andrew Dyer.” But I hadn’t found that plate at Lyle Young’s place. According to my list, I’d seen that plate in Eric Dunn’s neighborhood.
The one thing I didn’t include on the spreadsheet was when I’d written each plate number down. I picked up the legal pad and flipped back to the first page, scanning the plates until I found the one I was looking for. I’d written that one down on Friday, the first time I’d gone to Dunn’s house.
What were the chances of Eric Dunn being c
onnected in some way to another person associated with this case and Danielle Dillon?
The more I learned, the more I suspected Eric Dunn to be right in the middle of everything. I had a gut feeling he even knew where Danielle Dillon was. I wondered under what circumstances he might tell me.
I leaned back in the chair and read over my notes, starting from the beginning. The first place I’d been was the Conrad house. I’d talked to the neighborhood busybody, Bonnie Matheson. I’d learned about the Conrad murder, which had proven to be, in one way or another, connected to the rest of this case. Bonnie hadn’t recognized the photo I’d shown her of Dillon, though. Since Linda McKinnon hadn’t recognized Dillon until I showed her the new photo, I thought it was worth a trip out to Matheson’s place again. If she could ID Dillon, I might be able to figure out just how Dillon was connected to the Conrads, their house, and their son.
I was finishing up a couple things when Natalie came in. She held her phone out to me.
“It’s for you,” she said.
I took the phone as she dropped into a chair beside me.
“I wanted to get back to you about the Cadillac,” Ellmann said. “The officer chased the driver through town, down Harmony, and out to the interstate. The driver cut off a semitrailer just before the on-ramp and caused it to jackknife. Traffic is still backed up, literally across town, and the officer was caught behind the semi. About all I know for sure is the officer ran the plate; it’s registered to Aaron Shelton. This was the same car you saw the first time. We still don’t know anything about Aaron Shelton.”
Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft Page 19