With fifteen minutes to go, I leaned back against the dilapidated desk at the back of the room. I could see the front door and anyone who came through. Kevin and Den took positions one on each side of me, a step or two back.
The heavy silence which gripped the room was broken by the sound of footsteps outside. I could see backlit figures approaching the door. A raised hand. A knock.
Den lumbered to the door and opened it.
I had to assume it was Rick and Cass standing in the doorway, peering into the darkness.
“C’mon in.” I said, my voice low.
I wasn’t sure which was which, but one of them was about six feet tall and the other barely came up to his chest. One was neat and well groomed, had a flawed face, and a mean expression. The shorter one was stocky, edgy, and unkempt. His face was bland, which could be more menacing.
Den shut the door and stood beside them. Kevin walked over and flanked them on the other side.
“Hold it, boys,” I snapped. “Let’s see what they’ve got.” I waved my hand nonchalantly.
“Against the wall,” Kevin ordered
The duo dragged their feet but complied, casting wary glances over their shoulders at Kevin and Den.
Once against the wall, Kevin kicked their feet apart, forcing them to place their hands on the wall for balance and support.
“What the fuck is this?” the taller one said.
“Just making sure you two are clean. I don’t like surprises.” I said.
“Look what I found,” Den growled. He slid a gun out from under the shorter guy’s jacket. He continued the pat down and found a knife, a large one.
Kevin did the same to the taller thug and came up with another gun, a knife, and brass knuckles.
“They’re clean,” Kevin announced. Then he and Den moved back to flank me and stare at Rick and Cass.
The pair was allowed to stand again. Facing me they looked like intimidated whelps. Not at all the tough thugs Mikey had described.
I said nothing but stared at them. I allowed the silence to grow until it forced one of the pair to speak.
“W-We’re here about—”
“I know why you’re here. Reason I’m here is to tell you to forget it. There’s no deal, because there’s no art to deal with. It’s gone. Long gone. Your friend Mikey didn’t snatch it. He’s not that good.”
“Don’t shit me. I know the painting’s been stolen. Mikey had an agreement with us. He never came through. Now he’s got a chance to make good.”
“He didn’t come through, ‘cause he didn’t steal no painting. Got it?”
“Not what I heard. Word is Mikey did this. And he owes us.”
“You heard wrong, then. The art is gone. It ain’t gonna be found for a long time.” I yawned. “I’m gettin’ tired of this.”
“Why’d you set up the meeting, then?”
“Two reasons.” I flicked my fingers. And as we’d planned it, Kevin and Den moved forward, so they could be seen. They balled their hands into fists and looked like they were barely able to hold themselves back from pounding Rick and Cass into dust.
“Yeah? What reasons?” said the shorter thug, his voice unable to conceal his fear.
“Reason one is to tell you to forget about the art. Don’t ask questions about it. Don’t even think about it. I got ears everywhere.” I said. Kevin brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles. I saw the taller man wince. “It gets back to me that you been asking questions again, I’ll make sure you don’t ask no more.”
“Yeah, sure, sure,” the shorter one mumbled.
“What else?” The taller thug still needed convincing.
“Reason two is to tell you to lay off Mikey. He owes you nothing. You’re outta his life as of now. Touch him and you deal with me. Clear?” At this Den stepped forward and moved in on them. They both backed up without even realizing. “I get even a whiff you been talking to him, you’re both goin’ on a long trip. My guys’ll punch your tickets. Got that?”
“Why should we? Who the fuck are you?” The taller one moved forward again, though tentatively, as if he were stepping on hot coals. “Mikey’s our boy. He owes us. You think you scare us? You’re outta your mind.”
The shorter guy looked over at him as if he were crazy, but shorty had no choice but to chime in. “Y-yeah, you got no right…” His voice faded as quickly as his courage.
“I guess you didn’t hear me,” I said to them. “Whaddayou think?” I turned to Kevin. “You think they heard me? Maybe they need their ears cleaned?”
Kevin walked over to the taller guy, obviously knowing he was the key to the smaller thug. Crush him, they both fold.
“So, tell me again,” I said. “Who is Mikey?”
“Mikey’s mine. I fed him. I trained him. I gave him money and whatever he wanted. He owes us.”
“And here I thought you were smart. That’s the wrong answer.”
Taking his cue from me, Kevin throttled the tall guy and shoved him up against the wall.
“One more try?” I said.
He refused to answer.
Kevin hit him in the stomach so hard I felt the blow. The guy doubled over and retched a couple of times. On all fours, he took deep breaths.
“You,” I said to the shorter guy. “You got hearing problems, too?”
“Y-yeah… I m-mean, uh, n-no. Got no prob-problems.” The shorter guy whimpered.
“Lemme hear what you heard. What’re you gonna do once you step out that door?”
“G-gonna – gonna forget that… you know, uh, what we, uh, talked about.”
“And?”
“A-and, Mik-Mikey’s off base. Startin’ now. We don’t know the kid. Never heard of him, right Cass?” Short and chubby addressed his friend who was still on all fours.
“Y-yeah.” Cass drew in a breath so he could speak again. “Who’s Mikey?” He looked up at me, tried a weak smile but was too frightened to maintain it.
“Right. You got it. Now get out, before I let my friends here have some more fun.”
Rick helped Cass up off the floor. Half scrambling, half looking over their shoulders at us, they got themselves out the door. When the sound of them running faded into silence, Kevin and Den and I all laughed until we cried.
“How’d that kid get mixed up with those jerks?” Kevin asked, when he stopped laughing.
“Guys like that can only deal with kids like Mikey. They prey on poor kids who don’t have anyplace else to turn and take advantage of them. They get kids to steal then they pocket the profits.”
“Slimeballs,” Den said. His voice was so deep it sounded like it came straight out of Hell.
“I owe you guys.”
“You don’t owe anything, Marco. This was fun.”
“Yeah,” Den growled. “More fun than sittin’ at the bar waitin’ for something to happen. This was real shit.”
“Still, I’m taking you both to dinner, at the very least.”
“Gotta get my beauty sleep,” Kevin said. “Gonna host a thing tomorrow at Twelfth Air. You oughta come by.”
“Maybe I will.” I said. “Right now I’ve gotta go back to my office and then get some beauty rest of my own.”
“You must’a got plenty of that already, cutie.” Kevin quipped. “See you around.”
“Thanks again,” Den said, as they moved out the door.
I locked up the storefront and walked into the building’s general entrance. I didn’t feel like hauling my ass up the stairs, but I’d left some things in my office in case the meet with Rick and Cass didn’t go well.
Creaking and moaning, the wooden stairs accompanied my every move as I walked to the third floor. When I reached the top of the stairs, I heard sounds coming from my office. I stopped and listened.
Someone was creeping around inside, trying not to make much noise. The state of the wooden floors made silent moves impossible.
I pulled my gun and moved as smoothly as possible to the door of my place.
&
nbsp; The sounds inside stopped, as if whoever it was had paused to listen. I didn’t move. It was a long while before that person moved again.
There was nothing I could do but rush the room and hope the intruder didn’t have a gun.
When I heard movement inside the room again, I stepped to the door. In one swift move turned the knob and pushed it open.
The darkness nearly concealed the person but ambient light filtered in through the window and I could make out a man standing in the middle of the room.
I reached back with one hand and flicked on the lights. He stood there, black ski mask over his head. His hands went up when he saw the gun.
“Don’t move.”
“Don’t shoot. Please.” The voice was familiar. He was tall and well built.
“Get that mask off,” I ordered, gesturing with the gun. “Slowly.”
With one hand, he picked at the edge of the mask and lifted it over his head. When it came off, he blinked and then smiled nervously.
Tom. Megan’s fiancé.
“Should’a called first, Tom. The office is closed.”
“Door was open when I got here.” He tried sounding nonchalant but it didn’t work.
“Tell me you’re here because you missed me,” I said. “We hardly had any time together this afternoon.”
“I—”
“Aw. You’re not here because you wanted to see me again, are you? I’m disappointed.” I held the gun on him and watched his expression change along with the emotions that must have been running through him. “I’ll bet I know why you’re here, though.”
“Why’s that, smart guy?” he said, a haughty arrogance filling his voice, making it ugly.
“You’re here to get that video recorder, am I right?”
“Video recorder?”
“C’mon, Tom. You might be able to fool Megan and her brother, but I’m not them.”
“I still—”
“I think you’re on that video. In fact, you’ve probably got a starring role, am I right? There’s footage of you going in and out of the den after Mikey had been there. Long enough after that nobody bothered to look at more of the video after they saw Mikey. You knew the security system would catch you, but you were counting on them finding Mikey first and running with that. Which—”
“Doesn’t prove a thing,” Tom regained some of his composure. “Other than the fact that I was in that room. Not exactly an uncommon event, as I’m almost part of the family.”
“For now. But not for long. I’m betting you’ve gotten what you wanted and you’ll be making some excuse to back out of the wedding. Or, maybe you’ll just disappear. You’ve done that before. Right, Tom?”
He was silent.
“Sources tell me you’re not as clean cut as you look. You’re a little slippery, aren’t you? You’ve managed to leave a small trail of disappointed women, or have I got that wrong? Are you an equal opportunity thief? Were there some rich men, too?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about”
“So, what did you do with the DaVinci? Oh, wait! You said it isn’t really a DaVinci, didn’t you?
“It’s not. It’s a Renaissance piece but not a DaVinci.”
“Tom, Tom, Tom. You can fool some people with your authoritative way of strangling the truth. But I know better. Seamus is actually right. Isn’t he?”
“Seamus is an academic geek who wouldn’t know a DaVinci from a van Dyck.”
“So you assume. But even somebody like Seamus gets a chance to be right now and then. Turns out he’s right about the DaVinci. And what’s more, you know he’s right.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You lifted that piece because its potential worth is staggering. At least for a poor kid from South Philly like me, several million dollars is a stunning amount for a bunch of scribbles on parchment.”
Tom glanced around like a trapped animal looking for another way out. I could’ve saved him the trouble. There was no other way out. Much as I’d’ve liked that at times.
“You’re holding me here against my will. That’s false imprisonment.”
“Let’s call the police, then. Shall we?” I moved toward him, still pointing the gun at his chest. If I fired now he’d go down and stay down. “You wanna get the phone or should I do the honors?”
“L-look, I was just – you’re right,” he said and his shoulders slumped. I could see sweat beading on his forehead. “You’re right. There’s something on that video. But, it’s not what you think.”
“Okay, then tell me what it is.”
“I—it’s.. the den is the only place I can get any privacy in that home. That family is intrusive. And Megan, she can be a shrew. I retreated to the den for privacy and just to get away from them all. You have no idea what it’s like.”
“Why not simply leave the condo and go home when it gets too much?”
He was silent.
“And if that’s the case, what’s the big deal about anyone seeing you on the video? If you’re part of the family, then there’s no problem you going in and out of that room.”
“What if I wasn’t alone? That’s not going to go down well, especially not with Megan.”
“Who are you claiming was with you?” This was a development I half expected. It didn’t let him off the hook. He could have met someone in the den and still taken the sketch after whatever it was, was over and done.”
“Seamus. Surprised?”
“Not really. Seamus apparently has a thing for doing it in the den. You’re not the only one he’s been there with. Surprised?”
“He—he uses the… You’re lying. Trying to bait me into saying something that you can use.” Tom was silent for a moment. “I can see right through you.”
“Your boy Seamus has already had a starring moment or two on that system and with different costars.” So I stretched the truth. If Ramon had been with Seamus in the den, I was sure there’d been others. “Besides, you being in the room with Seamus doesn’t prove anything. You snatched the DaVinci after you and Seamus were through.”
“Not true. None of it. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Was Seamus in on it with you? Sleep together, steal together?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How about I get Seamus up here? Must be what? One in the morning? He’s probably still up. Waiting for you. Right?”
That got a small reaction. His eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
“Yeah, I think that’ll help. Seamus didn’t look too happy when I took that video recorder. I’ll get him up here and the three of us can have a nice conversation about what we do next.” I moved toward him, all the while keeping the gun trained on him. “Face the wall.”
Silently, he moved until he was flat against the wall. His hands still raised above his head, palms against the wall. I placed my hand against his back and kicked his feet apart.
“I’ll make that call now.”
I glanced down at my desk and with one hand scattered the papers there until I found the one where I’d scribbled phone numbers. I refused to drop my guard even with him facing the wall, and kept the gun stuck in Tom’s back so he could feel it.
Tapping in a few numbers, I saw Tom flinch.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t call him.”
“Why not?” I paused. “If he’s a party to this theft, I want to hear it from him. Then, he’ll have to answer for it, same as you.”
“He—he’s not. He doesn’t know anything about this…” he trailed off.
“Then he wasn’t in the room with you?”
“He was, just not the way I said. We were in there arguing.”
“About…”
“About the sketch. He’s certain it’s genuine. I was trying to convince him it wasn’t and wouldn’t be worth much.”
“But you know better, right?”
“It’s a real DaVinci.”
“You know this how?”
“A c-collect
or. A client. He’s a fanatic. I convinced Haldane to let me take the piece for testing. This client insisted on it. He had to see it for himself.”
“This the guy you stole it for?”
“Once he knew it was real. Once he knew…” Tom’s voice was low, weak. “H-he forced me to steal it.”
“C’mon, you’re a big boy. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. How could he force you?”
“He-he’d have me k-killed.” Tom slumped against the wall. “He’s rich. Powerful. He gets what he wants. Nobody ever says no to him. Nobody.” Tom paused. “I’d just disappear one day if I didn’t do what he asked. Who’d care? Nobody would even look for me.” Tom stopped talking then and became still and silent.
“No way you’re gonna get that sketch back, am I right?”
“No. There’s no way. He’d never let it out of his sight. I don’t even know where he’s got it. Out of the country is my guess.”
“You realize I’ve gotta tell Haldane. I’m not letting an innocent kid take the rap for this.”
“Can’t we work something out?” Tom spoke, still facing the wall. “I mean he hasn’t gone to the police, and even if he does, he’s not getting it back. That client would rather kill than let it go. He’s a fanatic in the worst sense of the word.”
“Look, I was hired to make sure that Mikey didn’t do this crime. I wasn’t hired to track down the DaVinci. Haldane doesn’t care whether it’s real or just another piece of work by some DaVinci student. He doesn’t care if it’s authentic in any way.”
“He doesn’t? Then why…”
“He cares because it was his wife’s favorite. Something she loved. She was all wrapped up in that sketch. It was like a part of her. And he doesn’t want to lose that, too. His memories of her are part of that sketch. He just wants it back. I’ll bet he won’t ask questions.”
“What’re you saying?”
“Me? I’m not saying anything. All I know is that if the sketch turns up, whether it’s authentic or not, Haldane will be happy to have it and his memories back again.”
“I can’t… my client will k-kill… he’ll torture me f-first…”
“A guy like you has lots of contacts. Good ones, shady ones. Am I right?”
“It’s the nature of the business. There are all sorts of people who – wait, you aren’t suggesting—” He didn’t finish his thought. Or, rather he began thinking on overdrive. I could almost hear the gears grinding.”
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 12