Another Day, Another Dali

by Sandra Orchard

  “Yes, of course. Where are my manners?” She strode out of the room in long, graceful strides.

  Tanner clicked on file after file. After his seventeenth or eighteenth, he smiled. “We hit the jackpot.”

  I rounded the desk. “You found the picture?”

  “Yup, he deleted it, but he never emptied his virtual trash bin.”

  I snapped a picture of the image on the screen, desk and computer included. “We’re going to need to take the computer in as evidence. Can you start unhooking it while I find Tasha?”

  I opened the door and came face to face with Gladys. “Oh, hi.”

  “Serena? What are you doing here?”

  “Collecting evidence, I’m afraid.”

  “Evidence of what?” Her voice shot up faster than a squealing toddler’s.

  “The theft of your Dali.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Wait until your grandmother hears about this.” She bustled back to the kitchen, and voices rose exponentially.

  Tasha scurried out of the kitchen a moment later and stopped me in the hall. “I’m sorry. I need to ask you to leave.”

  Tanner strode out of the den. “Doesn’t matter. We’re done. There’s nothing here.” He caught me by the upper arm and gave me a silent play along signal. “Let’s go.”

  “Right. Uh, thank you for your cooperation.” I let Tanner hurry me outside and turned on him once we were in his truck. “What are you doing? She could destroy the evidence before we get back with a warrant.”

  “Not if she thinks we didn’t find anything. He deleted the files, so he’ll have no reason to think we found them if she happens to tell him about our visit.” Tanner backed out of the driveway and headed toward downtown.

  My phone rang before we were three blocks out. My heart sank. “It’s Nana.”

  Tanner flashed me an empathetic look.

  I opened the call, and Nana lit into me before I could eke out a hello. “I’m sorry I upset her. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “If you’d been any less discreet, you might’ve ruined the reputation of a perfectly good man,” Nana went on, apparently not privy to his wife’s suspicions.

  “Perhaps.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I was following the leads. And they don’t always lead to palatable ends.”

  “Are you telling me Lucas stole the painting?” Nana’s voice pitched so high it pinged off the roof of Tanner’s SUV.

  He sliced his fingers across his throat, signaling me to end the call.

  “I’m sorry, Nana. I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Tanner drove straight to the courthouse, and a police cruiser swerved to a stop in front of him as he parked.

  Gladys’s son Pete jumped out. “What’s going on? Mom called me in a tizzy. Afraid you’re going to arrest Tasha’s husband. Did he do it?”

  “I can’t discuss the investigation.” I headed toward the front door with Tanner at my side.

  Pete chased after us. “She won’t press charges if it’s him, so why put them through the embarrassment?”

  I stopped and whirled to face him. “Does your mother want me to drop the case? Is that what she said?”

  “No, she didn’t say that. But she’s certain Lucas isn’t the thief, and she doesn’t want Tasha’s world turned upside down in the time it takes you to realize it.”

  “We have nothing to discuss.” I turned on my heel and headed inside. Behind me, I could hear Pete on his cell phone, probably delivering his mother the ultimatum—drop the case or face the fact Lucas would likely be arrested.

  When we reached the prosecuting attorney’s office on the third floor, he seemed to be expecting us. I took a seat and filled him in on what had transpired since the judge refused to sign the search warrant this morning, then requested he reconsider based on the new information.

  The receptionist buzzed the PA’s intercom. “Detective Briggs is here.”

  “Show him in,” the attorney said.

  “Who’s Briggs?” Tanner asked me.

  “I have no idea.”

  Briggs strode in looking like a disgruntled Tommy Lee Jones on the trail of Harrison Ford in The Fugitive.

  “You’re the detective from the hospital,” I said, remembering him now.

  “And you’re the agent jeopardizing the well-being of my CI.”

  “What? Lucas is your confidential informant? Why didn’t you tell me that Saturday?”

  “You didn’t need to know.”

  “What do you mean, I didn’t need to know?” Tanner tapped my hand, and I hauled down my voice a few decibels. “I thought the shooter was targeting me! That Lucas was collateral damage!”

  Briggs shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “I wasn’t sure at the time, and I’m still not. But I do know we can’t afford to have you sniffing around his business.”

  I crossed my arms over my rampaging heart. Okay, if Lucas is a CI, that might explain the phone calls and other suspicious behavior that had been bothering his wife, but it didn’t explain the photo of the Dali on his computer. “Did he steal the painting?”

  “He swears he didn’t.”

  “We found a digital image of it in his computer’s trash bin, and his bank records showed influxes of cash corresponding to the dates of two separate art thefts in the city.”

  “A coincidence. When he couldn’t raise the money he needed by hocking his wife’s jewelry, the pawnshop clerk put a dealer on to him who offered him a job transporting drugs. They loaded the delivery into the panels of his old sports car at a car show in New Mexico, and he drove it to St. Louis.”

  “And you found the drugs when you pulled him over for a traffic violation?” The so-called “witness to a crime” report in his files.

  “That’s right. His brother-in-law, Pete Hoffemeier, was on duty and got the full story out of him and then suggested we make him a deal. So we flipped him. He gave us the dealers. We dropped all charges.”

  “And you let him keep the money the dealer paid him for being a mule?”

  “If he didn’t pay off his bills, his new employer might’ve gotten suspicious.”

  I took a deep breath and held it for a full three seconds as I met Tanner’s gaze, hoping to read his take on the situation. His slight shrug seemed to say, It is what it is.

  I let out the breath with a slow groan. “So you’re asking me to shelve my investigation?” Nana might actually be happy about that since she didn’t like the direction it’d been headed.

  “Of Lucas, yes,” Briggs said. “He swears he didn’t swap out the painting, and I think he’s too afraid of screwing up his deal to lie.”

  I surged to my feet. “Fine. I’ll drop the investigation into Lucas. But I still need the search warrant, because if Lucas isn’t my thief, his wife must be.”

  “Not going to happen,” Briggs said. “If word gets out his wife is being investigated, Lucas’s money-making opportunities will dry up faster than a puddle in the desert.”

  “Besides,” the prosecutor cut in, “if she was behind the theft, do you think she’d have let you search the computer’s files?”

  “Sure. The file was deleted. She probably didn’t know the trash bin has to be emptied too. It’s a common mistake.”

  Tanner shook his head. “She also said she’d been hacked and that her brother had fixed the problem.”

  I glared at him. He was supposed to be on my side, not theirs. “C’mon, you honestly think a hacker planted the image in her trash bin?”

  Tanner shot Detective Briggs a sideways glance, his jaw muscles tightening.

  “I believe,” Briggs interjected, “the agent is suggesting her brother planted it.”

  “What?” My gaze shot back to Tanner, who seemed hesitant to admit the suspicion in front of Briggs. But it fit. Pete had access to both his mother’s house to pull the switch and his sister’s computer to print the photograph.
And as a cop, he had to know a fence or two who could’ve disposed of the painting quickly.

  Briggs opened the door and paused. “Who better to frame than a fall guy who won’t get prosecuted?”

  I stared at the empty doorway for a full two seconds after Briggs exited. “Did he just agree with you and point a finger at Pete?”

  “Sounds like it to me,” the prosecutor said.

  “Yeah.” Tanner sounded skeptical. “When’s the last time you’ve known a cop to turn on a fellow officer?” He pulled his hand from his pocket, the police-issue GPS transmitter lying on his flattened palm.

  A chill shivered down my arms. Was Pete the one tracking me? He’d been turning up like a dirty penny ever since Friday’s luncheon at the MAC.

  22

  I spent the rest of the afternoon discreetly chasing down information on Pete. And came up with nada.

  Tanner stopped by my cubicle and tossed the newspaper on my desk. “Check it out. Pete Hoffemeier’s got an Open House tonight down at your end of town.”

  “And what? You think if I waltz in showing an interest in the property, he’ll admit to stealing his mother’s painting?”

  “Nope, but I’m sure you could think of some way to weasel information out of him.”

  “Aren’t you worried he might try to hurt me? I mean, I’m assuming you think he planted the GPS tracker in my purse.”

  Tanner’s jaw muscle flexed. He clearly didn’t like the odds that both Pete and Dmitri’s guys were following me. “I’ll sit in a car outside and keep watch.”

  “Okay, yes, this could work. Let me make a call.”

  Tanner nodded. “Let me know when you want to leave.”

  I rang up Zoe. Because as much as Saturday’s shooting had freaked her out, she was a security officer by trade. She knew how to take care of herself. And the fact she was my best friend and getting married in a few months was the perfect excuse for me to be house shopping with her.

  She picked up on the third ring. “What’s up?”

  “How would you like to go house shopping with me tonight?”

  “You’re thinking of buying a house?”

  “No, you are. And I’ve found a perfect one for you to see.”

  “You have? You who breaks out in hives at the mere thought of shopping?”

  “Okay, okay, the real estate agent might be a suspect, and I might need the cover of a soon-to-be-married friend who’s looking for a house.”

  “Uh-huh. And have you locked up your stalker—attacker, bad guy, dude—yet?”

  “No, but Tanner’s going to act as lookout.”

  “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.”

  “With Jax? Because he could come too.”

  “No, with the will to live.”

  “Ha, the engagement’s made you soft,” I goaded.

  “No, the desire to see my wedding day has.”

  The memory of her blanched face after Saturday’s shooting pinged my conscience. Maybe it had been too much to ask.

  “Why don’t you ask your Aunt Martha?” she suggested. “She’s always up for an adventure.”

  “Hmm, yeah, maybe.” I blew out a breath. Aunt Martha would agree in a heartbeat, but I hated to involve her, potentially put her in danger. Right, like I’d had qualms about putting Zoe in danger. At least it was conceivable Aunt Martha would be interested in house shopping again. My parents’ place had to feel tiny at times. I dialed her cell number before I lost my nerve.

  Aunt Martha answered on the third ring. “What can I do for you?”

  “Want to go house shopping with me? It’s a cover,” I added, before she could fret that I was leaving the apartment and . . . Nate.

  “I’d love to. What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Three hours later, I pulled up outside my parents’ nondescript two-story, and Aunt Martha emerged looking as if she was dressed for the Kentucky Derby in her wide-brimmed, brightly decorated hat and polka-dot dress. “How do I look?” she asked, slipping into the passenger seat.

  “Like a woman with money to spend.” I grinned.

  “Good, that’s what I was going for.”

  As I pulled away from the curb with Tanner following at a discreet distance, a call came in from Zoe.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll go house shopping with you.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve already picked up Aunt Martha.”

  “All the more reason I should join you too.” Her voice hiccupped.

  “Zoe? Is something wrong?”

  She sniffled. “Jax and I had a fight.”

  “About what?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I just need to get out. Can you come pick me up?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I texted Tanner the details of the temporary detour. As I pulled up to Zoe’s house eight minutes later, Billy came striding out at Zoe’s side, dressed in camo.

  I jumped out of the car. “Whoa. Is Billy coming too?”

  “I’m the bodyguard,” he said.

  I hitched my thumb to Tanner idling at the end of the block. “We’re covered.”

  Zoe caught his hand and dragged him into the backseat. “This way, we’ll be doubly covered.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, and I didn’t feel like arguing.

  “Okeydokey. The more the merrier. But”—I held an empty chicken bucket toward them—“everyone’s phone goes in here and stays in the car. My plan won’t work otherwise.”

  Aunt Martha oohed. “Isn’t this fun?”

  I caught Billy’s eye roll in my rearview mirror as he tossed his smartphone into the bucket.

  Zoe clutched her phone a little too maniacally. “What if Jax calls?”

  “Then you make the dear boy sweat by not answering,” Aunt Martha said. “Trust me, he’ll come around to your way of thinking soon enough.”

  Zoe’s shoulders relaxed. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely,” Aunt Martha said as if she had infinite experience with men, despite being a happily unmarried woman.

  Billy plucked the phone from Zoe’s fingers and plunked it in the bucket. “She’s right. Make him sweat.”

  A few minutes later, we parked in front of a rambling two-story in Clayton. It had a mix of stucco and stone finishes and a gorgeous gabled roofline.“Follow my lead,” I said. As I climbed out of the car, Tanner rolled to a stop in front of a house several yards down the block.

  Pete greeted us at the door, appearing thrilled and not the least bit suspicious that I’d brought people to check out the place. We wandered through, listening to his spiel, supplying appropriate oohs and aahs, which were totally real considering the place had an open floor plan with Italian porcelain tile flooring flowing through the foyer, entry hall, and the gourmet kitchen that was a chef’s dream, with state-of-the-art appliances and granite countertops and eat-in seating. The separate formal dining room opened into a large living room with a fireplace and a study that adjoined an exquisite sunroom. And that was only the main floor! After we returned from viewing the upstairs bedrooms, den, and two and a half more bathrooms, I stopped outside the kitchen and pretended to fuss with my phone. “Figures. The battery’s dead.”

  “Here, use mine,” Aunt Martha piped up, and like a born actress she reached into her pocket and came up empty, then frantically checked her other pockets. “Oh dear, I must’ve left it behind.”

  Zoe disappeared into the washroom before I could put her on the spot.

  I looked to Billy, who raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. I dropped mine in my coffee yesterday. It’s on the fritz.”

  A tinge of guilt niggled me at prodding them to lie to play their parts, but wow, were they ever good at hamming it up.

  “Go ahead and use the house phone,” Pete suggested. “As long as it’s not a long-distance call.”

  “Actually, I need to look something up online. Could I borrow your phone for a minute?”

  Pete searched my gaze, almost
as if he suspected my ulterior motive. Finding an image of the Dali or any of the other missing paintings on his phone or a record of a call to Capone’s apartment could wrap the case into a nice bow . . . if I had enough evidence for a warrant. This way, at least, I could see if I was on the right track.

  “Please,” I prompted.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons, presumably to unlock it, then handed it over.

  Aunt Martha caught his attention and directed it toward the kitchen cupboards.

  Thank you, Aunt Martha! I pulled up the icons and clicked on the photos app. The file was empty. I immediately clicked out and checked the call history. Also empty. Pete must’ve guessed my plan and deleted everything with all that button pushing.

  I went online and did a search on flooring options so if he bothered to check my history, at least he’d find I did look something up—something pertinent to the house. Gritting my teeth, I clicked through to a couple of related articles, then exited and handed back the phone. “Thanks so much. So what do you think, Zoe? Does it look like a possibility?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s quite a bit over the budget.”

  Pete nodded. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The house has been getting a lot of interest, so I don’t think it’ll sell for much less than the asking price.”

  Zoe sighed and flounced toward the door. “Oh well, thank you for your time.”

  Pete caught me by the arm as the others headed out the door. “I wanted to thank you for not arresting Lucas.”

  “Thank Detective Briggs. I assume you’re the one who alerted him?”

  Pete shrugged.

  “My grandmother won’t be happy about me dropping your mother’s case.”

  “Why would you?”

  I exaggeratedly arched an eyebrow.

  “You still think Lucas stole the painting?”

  Billy rushed back through the door, looking ready to rip Pete limb from limb if warranted. “Everything okay?” he asked, as if I’d been forcibly held up for more than a mere minute or two.

  “Yeah, I was just coming.”

  As I stepped outside, I glimpsed Tanner halt his sprint toward the yard and dart behind a hedge. I smiled. Nice to know people worry about me. I beeped the SUV to unlock it, and everyone piled in from the sidewalk side, while I rounded the hood to climb in the driver’s side.