Seemed Desirae had heard that the fear of pain is more effective than pain itself. Natalie had been doing a lot of screaming. Whatever Desirae had been describing must have been horrific, which wasn’t hard to believe.
“Thank God. I was worried. Priscilla looked pretty bad.”
“Looks like she’ll live to harass you another day.”
“She is sort of a pain in the ass, isn’t she?” Danielle asked. “She did a lot of blubbering.”
Yep, I definitely liked Danielle.
“Yeah, well, her life was a lot different than yours or mine. She’ll probably never be the same after this.”
I saw genuine sadness on her face then and knew it was a reflection of my own. Whatever the history was between Priscilla Casimir and me, I would never wish trauma like this on anyone.
“No one should have scars like those,” Danielle said, no doubt thinking of hers as I thought of mine.
“No, they shouldn’t.”
Tanner dressed the last of my wounds then cleaned up. He gave me a spiel about wound care for stitches, and I listened patiently even though I was already well versed. Then I asked if I could leave.
He went to get Sadie, who returned with a clipboard and a piece of paper, which I signed. She gave me a copy then let down the side rail on the bed. I stood and tucked my copy of the discharge instructions into my pocket.
“Don’t forget what I said,” she called as I pushed open the curtain.
I looked back. “I won’t.”
Then Ellmann walked with Danielle and me outside.
“I called a patrol car to give you a ride back to your truck,” Ellmann said. “Think you can drive?”
Sadie had found me a bottle of water and given me the sandwich she’d brought for lunch. I was feeling a lot better.
“I think so.”
“Good. I’ll take Natalie home and get her settled. Then I’ll come over.”
“I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
I looked at him for a moment, and I could tell he knew what I meant. He nodded.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said to him. “Is your case all wrapped up now?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. The FBI and all the local guys are just filing paperwork now, tying up loose ends.”
“But, you’ve made all the arrests you’re going to?” I clarified, glancing at Danielle.
“I’ve made all the arrests I’m going to make,” he said. “I can’t speak for the other guys, like the FBI … or Interpol.”
He squeezed my hand. “See you later.”
He kissed my cheek then offered his hand to Danielle.
“It really was nice to meet you,” he said. And he meant it. I could see he liked her, respected her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I feel the same way, Detective.”
“Uh, it’s Ellmann,” he said. “Just Ellmann for right now.”
“I hope it stays that way.”
“Me too.”
23
A patrol car pulled up five minutes later, and Danielle and I piled in. The officer looked familiar to me, but I didn’t know his name. And I was grateful he didn’t seem up for talking as he drove us back to Lyle Young’s house.
Young’s house was still hopping with activity when we arrived, and I guessed it would be for several more hours. I knew from experience things like this didn’t happen quickly. I was just glad I wasn’t required to stick around.
I thanked the officer, who told me to say hello to Ellmann, then Danielle and I walked over to the Scout, which had been pushed off the driveway into the lawn. Thankfully, no damage had been done to it. Stan would have come back to haunt me if there had been.
As I motored up Lemay, Danielle glanced at her watch.
“I think we’ll make it,” she said happily.
I laughed. “If you were ready to stop running, you could have just turned yourself in.”
“I thought of that, but then I thought of the money—the reward, or whatever it is. You deserve that.”
She was talking about the “capture fee” or “recovery fee,” usually called a “bounty” on TV. I sure wouldn’t mind the money, but I felt accomplished just having laid eyes on her before the deadline. I also realized had she not turned herself in, I might never have caught her.
“I appreciate it. Too bad everyone doesn’t make it this easy.”
She laughed. “Job security, I suppose.”
I chuckled, wincing at the pain it elicited in my abdomen.
Then my thoughts turned back to the case.
“You’re an art thief,” I said softly. It was a statement, not an accusation.
I’ve made mention of my troubled youth. Theft is on the list. I couldn’t sit and point an accusatory finger at anyone else when I’d been guilty of the same thing, even if it was in my past.
“I prefer the term ‘grifter.’”
“But you steal things, don’t you?”
She nodded. I didn’t detect any shame in her, but I thought I saw some remorse.
“I do take things from people who can afford to lose them,” she said. “My childhood taught me two things: how to read people and how to lie. Put them together and you have a grifter. I put my skills to use early, conning kids out of lunch money and homework answers. Later, it was clothes and meals, and then apartments and cars. It was the easiest way for me to get what I needed.
“One day I lifted a gold Rolex. I sold it and lived off the money for a month. I quickly saw how much more lucrative that was, and that I wouldn’t have to worry about relying on anyone else. I started small—watches and jewelry mostly. Then it was lower-end art. Turns out, I’m pretty good at it. Before long, I was walking away with big scores, and there were jobs all over the world.”
“People commissioned jobs from you.”
She nodded again. “At first, I would steal whatever I chose then try to unload it. It didn’t take long to figure out it’s better the other way. When there is a piece someone wants, they call with the job. This is simpler, because I know exactly what to take and how much I’ll get for it, and I pass the pieces on immediately rather than hanging on to them for weeks, or even months, trying to auction them off.”
“You said you have something your sister wants. You have the jade sculpture, don’t you?”
She was quiet for a moment then said, “You are good.”
Between you and me, it’s a lot of luck and a little bit of guessing.
“Yes, I have the sculpture.”
“Lyle Young, or whatever his real name is, is also a thief. He really did steal that diamond from the British Museum. That’s how he can afford a Jaguar and a house like the one he’s got.”
“Yes. He’s very good. He does most of his work in Europe, including the diamond you mentioned.”
“He stole the statue from India ten years ago, didn’t he?”
When she didn’t answer, I glanced at her and saw she was staring at me.
“I think he was the private collector who had the jade carvings,” I went on. “Maybe he stole them, maybe he didn’t; I don’t know. But he also had the sculpture, so those rumors about them being in the same private collection were true. Eric Dunn is an art collector. Based on the stolen Russian egg I saw at his place, and the fact that so many of his pieces are very rare, I’d say he’s the type to commission thefts. I think he paid Lyle to steal the Russian egg. I think that’s how Caroline Marks got killed.”
I could tell by her expression I was on the right track.
“I think Eric Dunn also paid someone to steal those jade pieces for him. I think that person was you. I think you stole them from Lyle Young. Why did you keep the sculpture?”
She sighed. “Okay, look, let me explain a couple things. First, you’re right about Lyle. He’s had the carvings and the sculpture for the last ten years. They were the centerpieces of his collection and a huge boost to his business. The good jobs are the ones that can’t be explained. The best are those that are never recognized as j
obs. It was widely known in art circles the sculpture had been stolen. But the carvings had been, too—only no one knew it. Well, only a very select number of people knew it.
“Second, Eric is an art collector, but it didn’t happen quite how you think. Caroline Marks was killed for the egg. Desirae killed her. Lyle had tried and failed twice to steal the egg—very unusual for him. A few days ago, he tried again. This time Desirae was involved. My guess is, Caroline walked in on them, and Desirae killed her, but I don’t really know the details. But Eric didn’t commission it. He’d been to Caroline’s house and seen her collection for himself. He loved the egg, like we all do, but he never wanted it stolen. And he certainly never wanted Caroline dead. Eric is a lot of things, but he isn’t a murderer.
“Last summer, a big-shot Hollywood producer with a passion for Indian art commissioned me to retrieve the carvings and the sculpture. I knew Lyle had them, and despite his security systems, it wasn’t hard to obtain them. I’d left town the next day to deliver them to the buyer. I flew to California, made the delivery, then flew to Europe to discuss another job. I was headed back when I learned about Mitchell. It hadn’t taken Desirae and Lyle very long to figure out it was me. Like I said, I’m very good. But in this case, that gave me away. There weren’t too many people who could have pulled off the job, and with me being so close to home, I was a likely suspect.
“When they’d gone to my house, they’d expected me to be there. Instead, they found Mitchell and our babysitter. They tortured and killed them both. Desirae tried to pry out of Mitch where I was and where I’d taken the pieces. Mitchell was a good man. He wasn’t stupid; he didn’t believe I’d inherited my money, but he never asked where it came from or what I was doing when I was out of town. And he didn’t know what I did; I never told him any details.
“After hearing about Mitchell, I knew it had been Desirae, and I knew what she was after. I also knew it wouldn’t be long until she found the pieces. I’d long been aware of my sister’s habits. For years, I’d tried to help her, to reach out to her. But she resented me. The same things happened to us both, and I didn’t turn out the same way she did. She didn’t want to be like she was, and she hated me because I wasn’t. One day, she met Lyle. Lyle doesn’t really like violence, but he really likes art. I think he recognized how Desirae could help him, torturing people for passwords and other security secrets.
“I’d figured out right away what my sister and Lyle were doing. They left a string of bodies that lined up pretty neatly with a string of thefts to anyone who went looking. Anyone who got in their way was killed. Anyone who had information they needed was tortured.”
“That’s why you were doing research and clipping newspaper articles,” I said, remembering the desk and computer in the basement apartment at the Conrad house.
She nodded. “Yes, I was tracking their movements. But no matter how closely I followed them, I couldn’t prove any of it. It wasn’t difficult finding where the pieces went, but I could never connect either of them to any theft or murder. In order to buy some time, I decided it was best for me to stay dead for a while. It killed me to have my son put into foster care, but I knew Desirae wouldn’t stop until someone made her. I knew to do that it would take evidence I could hand over to the police. As an insurance policy, I stole the carvings and sculpture back from Hollywood. Not the best move for business, but this is my son I’m talking about here.
“A while back, I figured out Desirae keeps things from her victims sometimes—jewelry mostly. Lyle’s been known to keep a souvenir now and again, too. They keep these things in a safe at Lyle’s as well as in various safety deposit boxes across the country, or at least I thought they did. It took me almost three months, but I finally got into the safe at Lyle’s. It was a total bust. Each time I confirmed a box, I went and had a look. I’ve been to New York, Los Angeles, Miami, Phoenix, Las Vegas, and half a dozen others. I never found anything I recognized. In May, I learned about Desirae’s box at First National Bank here in town.
“Eric is Jerry’s lawyer. It was Eric who worked with the court to get Rusty placed with the Vandreens. Of course, at the time, we didn’t know what Jerry was like. I only met him once, and I never picked up on it. I should have, but I didn’t.
“Anyway, Eric was at Jerry’s office one day and saw Desirae there. He thought it was me, and he asked me about it. Guessing her reason for visiting the bank, I did a bit of digging and found out about the box. In April, I went in. Jerry was the staff member I worked with. I got in the box and found it empty.
“A week after I was there, my sister went to the bank. Jerry made a comment about her having just been there, and she knew it was me. I knew Jerry was the one who had Rusty, but Desirae did some digging and found out the same thing. She sent me a message asking me if I knew what Jerry was doing to my son. I did a little looking on my own. Furious, I confronted him at the bank. That was the day I was arrested.
“Eric is Rusty’s father. Like I said, Eric is an art collector. He had a piece someone was interested in. I took the job. I play all my cons a little differently, but the best way I found to get close enough to Eric’s piece was to play a romantic angle. It was a slightly longer job. I was just about to grab the piece and walk away when I found out I was pregnant.
“I’d never planned on kids. My lifestyle wasn’t really conducive to that sort of thing. But once I found out I was going to have one, I decided I wanted his life to be different than mine had been. I wanted him to have a stable home, a loving family, two parents who would always be there for him—a life free of abuse. Eric Dunn wasn’t that man. I may have missed the signs in Jerry, but I picked up on Eric’s almost right away. And I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to be a victim anymore. After getting close to Eric, I had enough leverage to ensure an amicable relationship.
“After I was arrested, I asked Eric for help. I wanted him to get Rusty into a new home and to make my problem with Jerry go away. He said he would do what he could about Rusty. He wasn’t father material, but Rusty was his son, and some part of him loved the kid. He didn’t want to take care of him, but he wanted him taken care of, you know? But I didn’t see that he was real motivated to help me. So I left the carvings on his kitchen table. They were way too hot to try to unload, so he was stuck with them. They also tied him to more dead bodies than any lawyer wants to be tied to. He knew I left them.
“The following day, he made the security camera footage disappear from the bank. It looked like a technical error, and it made the case a he-said/she-said thing. He also put huge pressure on Jerry to have DHS relocate Rusty. But my little carving thing backfired. Jerry dropped by Eric’s house and saw them. Eric stupidly put them on display. Jerry recognized them for what they were—how, I’ll never know. Now Jerry had Eric by the short and curlies, too. There wasn’t much Eric could do. He backed off Jerry, and Rusty stayed where he was.”
She paused and shook her head. “How can I ever make up for what I did to my son? How can he ever forgive me?”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t beat yourself up yet,” I said. “Rusty is very young. Once you take him home and start loving on him again, he may not remember what he’s been through.”
“Think so?”
“Worth a shot. And better than the alternative.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“How did the egg wind up at Eric’s house?” I asked.
“Desirae put it there. She’d gone to visit Eric, pressing him about where I was. He didn’t know, but she didn’t believe him. She put the egg in his house to help ensure his cooperation. With a stolen piece in his possession, she’d only have to make one anonymous phone call to the police and he’d be arrested for murder. Of course, she just left the egg Friday, so there wasn’t really time for that plan to work out.”
“How is it no one figured out it wasn’t you who died in the house?” I asked.
She winced at the question, and I saw guilt in her face.
&
nbsp; “The babysitter’s name was Alyssa. She was only seventeen, finishing her last year of high school. She was excited about going to college. And she really liked the boy she was dating. She had her whole life ahead of her.” Danielle choked back a sob before continuing. “Alyssa and I looked very similar, both tall with long dark hair. Alyssa was a ward of the state, living with foster parents who didn’t pay a lot of attention. Mitch and I always felt like surrogate parents to her. When she never came home, her foster parents assumed she’d run away, which she’d done before, so the police didn’t think much of it. But what really did it was Desirae’s identification. Everyone believed her when she said it was me. Why would she lie about her own sister being dead?”
She sighed, tears streaming down her face.
“Mitch was a good man and a good father, the kind I never had, the kind every kid deserves. I wasn’t in love with him, but I loved him for what he was to me and my son. I hadn’t decided to go straight, but I took far fewer jobs, staying home with my family. I suppose someone could argue it was nothing more than a con, but it was a real life to us. And we were happy.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
We were both quiet as Danielle cried. Tears fell from my eyes, too.
I pulled into the detention center and parked. Danielle wiped at her eyes and tried to pull herself together.
“Where is the sculpture?” I asked.
“Someplace safe.”
“What are you planning to do with it? Are you going to give it back to the Hollywood guy?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Why? Do you have a suggestion?”
I shrugged. “The sculpture’s been away from home for ten years. Maybe it’s time it went back.”
“Maybe it is,” was all she said, though she was smiling.
“So you stole the McKinnons’ painting and the Burbanks’ statue also?”
“No, only the painting. Desirae and Lyle stole the statue. Todd is … well, if my sister wasn’t caught up in the mix, I’d say Todd was Lyle’s lover. But Lyle seems to have a relationship with Desirae, too. Anyway, Todd and Lyle have known each other a long time. Todd does the gardener thing because it gets him close to the type of houses Lyle likes to get into.”
Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft Page 28