by Jill Sanders
“Shall we try that again?” she asked, circling around the young boy with a huge grin on her face which matched his.
It was one of those days Ric would have rather avoided. After spending two hours on the phone with one of his art dealers, he wanted to throw something against the wall. He paced up and down his small office and swore he would never deal with the Middle-Eastern Government again. They were one of the worst embassies to deal with, at least when it came to their artist. The Egyptians, Chinese, and even the Russians had nothing on the Middle-Eastern culture. Theirs was a lifestyle where they chose to hoard, especially when it came to their new artists who just happened to be a woman on top of it all.
Tossing down the file he had on Sannidhi Rangan or Sandi as she prefer to be called by the English, he felt even more disgusted at them for holding women back, culturally. Not only was Sandi's art being held by the country, they claimed for religious reasons, but now it appeared that the Seventeen year old girl was no where to be found.
He opened the file and looked at the young girl’s face. Well, all he could see were the deep desires in her dark eyes from underneath her hijab. The dull colors of the garment did little to extinguish the flames in the young girl’s dark eyes. Her art had been something Ric had immediately desired. Desired, because he knew it was not only one of a kind, but something that would eventually become an enormous asset to both him and the young woman who’d created it.
Usually he didn’t deal with artists so far away. But, when an old friend had pulled him aside at his last art show in London, he’d taken one look at the piece he’d brought with him and wanted to sign her on immediately. He’d talked to the girl only once, when he’d made arrangements for her to fly out to New York for a meeting. She’d never gotten on the flight and he hadn’t heard from her since then.
Storming out of his office, he was heading downstairs to talk to Kimberly, his new, temporary assistant. He didn’t have any time to go looking for a new assistant just now. Sure, he had a stack of resumes to choose from, they took up an entire corner of his desk. Knowing he’d have to find someone by the end of the month, caused him even more stress.
When he walked down the wide staircase which sat along the brick wall in his main gallery, Ric noticed a tall, dark haired man hovering over Kimberly. He could tell by the young girl’s face that she was transfixed and thoroughly enjoying the conversation.
Speeding his steps, he reached the pair and vaguely overheard part of the conversation.
“Of course not Mr. Cardone, I don’t mind giving you a call.” Kimberly said and almost purred with the remark. Then, she looked over as Ric approached.
When the man turned around, Ric guessed that he was a few years younger than him. Where Ric’s features where light, marking his father’s Scandinavian heritage, this man was almost his complete opposite. Sure, Ric had a dark tan from the hours of running he usually did along the beach in the California sun. But, this man’s skin was dark due to his Mediterranean heritage. Which accounted for the thickness of his accent. His black colored hair was sleeked back, his dark eyes ran up and down Ric as if he was weighing his options.
Then, he extended a hand and said, “Mr. Derby, I’m Dante Cardone. I’ve been doing business with you for several years now.”
Ric remembered the name, he’d never seen the man in person though. He knew that he usually attended auctions over the phone or computer. Never in the three years he’d worked with him had he seen a picture, let alone seen him face to face.
“Mr. Cardone,” he shook the man’s hand.
Ric noticed the dark gray suit for what it was, expensive. There was a large gold ring he wore on his left hand with a rather unique and old design. He saw that too for what it was, heritage.
“How can I be of service to you today?”
There was something in the way the man looked at him that caused Ric to maintain his stance. He didn’t like the almost sneer that had crossed his face as he spoke.
“Mr. Derby, I’d like to inquire about a piece that your lovely assistant here,” he looked back at Kimberly and Ric swore he saw the man wink at her. “Says was shipped over a week ago, but has yet to arrive.”
“I apologize for any misunderstandings,” Ric walked behind the counter to look at the invoices Kimberly was holding. “It does appear that we’ve already shipped you this item.” Ric watched anger fly into the man’s face so quickly that Kimberly, who’d been happy to flirt with him up until now, quickly took a step back.
“Well, since I’m currently standing in your gallery, I can assure you I have yet to receive what I’ve paid for.” Ric could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.
“I would be happy to check with our shipping company. It may take a day or two to get to the bottom of this. I assure you Mr. Cardone, I will get to the bottom of this matter, personally.”
Seven hours later, when Ric walked into his apartment he kept in Portland, he had a large headache. The last thing he wanted to hear was his sister’s voice on the answering machine.
“Hi Ric, it’s me Katie. Of course you know it’s me. Who else would be calling you on your personal line, surly not a girlfriend, since you’ve almost never kept a woman for too long. Anyway, I was just calling to tell you Mom and Dad are finally getting a divorce. Yup,” his sister sighed, “Mom’s in Rome or Venice, or somewhere where the men are tall dark and half naked, and Dad is fishing in Alaska. Soooo, I thought you might want to call them and work your magic. Oh, by the way, I’m getting married. Well, at least I’ve found the man I want to marry. He doesn’t know it yet, but anyway… I guess I’ll talk to you later. I think I’ve talked long enough that your machine…”
His answering machine beeped with the end of the message. Then he smiled as he heard the next message.
“is going to cut me off. Love you big brother. Signed Katie, your favorite sister.”
Katie was Ric’s complete opposite in every sense. His sister was as whimsical as he was organized and orderly. Where Ric was blond and blue eyed, like their father, Katie had dark curly hair and chocolate caramel eyes. She was almost eleven years younger than him and to his knowledge was still attending college back east. This was the fourth time since starting college that she’d told him she was getting married.
He thought she was in love with being in love. Something he’d never experienced before. Oh, he’d felt a distinct like, a bout of infatuation, and good dose of old fashion lust. But, never love. It isn’t that he was incapable of love. After all, he loved his sister and he felt love for Allison Jordan and a few others, in the same way. His parents, he tolerated.
As for his parents getting a divorce, it seemed like every other month they were getting one. His mother took off to Rome or some other place where the men were tall dark and half-naked, as his sister had said, at least once a year. As for his father’s fishing trips, well, he thought he knew why he was going to Alaska once a year, lately. And he was sure the hot little red head didn’t have fishing on her mind. Maybe this was why Ric never put himself out there?
But, this was the way his parents worked. Ever since Ric could remember he’d been patching their relationship.
Then, the last message that played on his machine took his mind off his family issues completely.
“Mr. Derby,” her voice was even sexier on his machine. He walked over and stood right in front of the large windows that overlooked Mt. Hood and the Columbia river and listened. “This is Detective Stanton, I have some information I’d like to go over with you. Please return my call at your convenience.” When his machine clicked at the end of the message he smiled.
Picking up his phone, he punched her number.
“Detective Stanton, this is Mr. Derby returning your call. When you get this message, please return my call at your convenience.”
Wishing he could be there to see the irritation cross her face, he then punched his mother’s number into the phone and started “working his magic” trying to mend his dysfunc
tional family.
The next morning as Rob sat in the bull pen, she listened to her messages and laughed. How did that man know how to irritate her so much? But, she was in a good mood today and wouldn’t let a call from a very handsome, but irritating, Ric Derby hinder it.
Just as she was going to pick up her phone to call him back, Brian, a fairly new detective, walked up to her and leaned on her desk.
“So,” he said, letting his eyes wander over her gray blouse. “I hear we caught your art thief.” He continued to stare at her chest instead of her eyes.
“Brian,” Rob said, in a very calm voice, “If you don’t get your sleazy ass off my desk and your beady little eyes off my chest,” she smiled up at him. “I’m going to take my stun gun out and stick it between your legs.” She stood and walked to the sergeant’s office without looking back. But, from the sounds behind her, she knew he’d removed his butt from her desk.
“Why did I have to hear about you guys catching my art thief from tall, sleazy, and annoying out there.” She nodded towards the large windows that overlooked the bull pen as she stood in Sergeant’s office.
“Because, you were late,” he said, without looking up from the pile of paperwork on his desk.
“Bull sh…” she didn’t get to finish, since he’d raised his head and was giving her a death stare. She cleared her throat. “That’s bull and you know it, sir.” She sat down on the couch. He had two perfectly good black leather chairs that sat right in front of his desk, which everyone else always sat on. Rob, however, chose to sit further back in the room on the soft couch. Crossing her legs, she continued. “I’m never late.”
Smiling, the sergeant stood up and walked around his desk then leaned a hip on the corner.
“Do you know why I took this job?” he asked.
Rob had played this game several times over the past five years since he’d been promoted to sergeant.
“No sir, tell me why,” she smiled at his irritation.
“No sir, tell me why,” he mimicked, but had a smile on his face. “You know damn well, why I took this job. I took this job so I didn’t have to deal with snot nosed punks like you.” His eyes laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Now you have to deal with all that,” she pointed to the large pile of papers, which covered half of his desk.
He took a big breath and released it, “Your bald art thief is in holding room five. They brought him in,” he leaned over and pulled a file from a stack, “at zero six hundred hours. It appeared he was getting gas at a 7-Eleven when one of our black and whites spotted him. The arrest was quiet. Kenny Sorvillo, that’s your perp, called his lawyer, a Mr…” He flipped the file open and pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
“Mr. Kent,” she read out loud.
“Like I said, they are in room five. Go get ‘em.” He tossed her the file.
Two hours later, Rob had sweat trickling down her back, and a growing headache. It appeared that Mr. Kent knew what he was doing. Not only did his client obey his every eye twitch, his lawyer was pulling the whole “you’ve got the wrong man” scenario. And, his lawyer had some shady proof to boot. Rob didn’t like it. Something about the whole setup stunk. But, since his lawyer had small proof, in way of a hotel receipt, which put Kenny Sorvillo in Kalama, Washington a good forty minute drive from The Blue Spot the evening of the burglary, they couldn’t hold him for too long. Just until a judge looked at everything and set bail which might happen later that day.
But, the icing on the cake of proof had been the late night purchase at a local diner which showed he’d not only spent the night in Kalama, but he’d enjoyed a mid-night snack, complete with a receipt and his signature.
The man might even walk free if the judge allowed. It didn’t mean he had to walk far and without someone watching him.
Chapter Six
Ric was busy looking over his files as the plane landed in LA for a charity show that night. One that he had been planning for months. The event was for another Alzheimer’s charity that Allison had gotten him involved in a few years back when her mother had been diagnosed and she had several new pieces in tonight’s auction. Since it was hosted at his gallery, he had made sure personally that everything was in place.
He enjoyed charity events more than the normal art events that came with the job. Stuffy people in stuffy rooms, but since this one was in his own place, he was a lot happier to attend it.
He usually spent a few months in California a year, but for the most part, he’d taken to running everything from his Portland offices. He felt more at home there and was actually thinking of it more as the base of his operation.
Later that evening as he stood next to the Countess Regina, one of his regular patrons, he watched his friend Mitchell Kovich march across the room, heading in his direction. Mitchell was his contact in New York the man who’d introduce him to Sandi.
“There you are, Ric,” Mitchell said, pulling a flute of champagne off a waiter’s silver tray as he passed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you the last few days.”
Ric excused himself from the countess and pulled Mitchell across the room where there were less people. His friend was almost ten years younger than him. His wire frame was that of a swimmer, that’s actually how the two had met in college. Mitchell had been a skinny freshmen being picked on by some of the larger swim team members, when Ric had been walking by and stopped the fight. Mitch had a broken nose to show for the incident and a new friend.
“What the devil is going on with Sandi, I haven’t been able to get through to her for weeks. The embassy is a mess…”
“Hang on there Ric, I’ve some news on that subject,” he took a large swig of the drink and grabbed another from the same waiter who’d circled the room. Ric started getting more concerned since he knew Mitch wasn’t a drinker. “there’s been a major – incident.”
“Incident?”
“Listen Ric,” Mitch looked around the room, “things have gotten a little out of hand.” He tossed back the next drink. “I’ve had to pull some strings, using your name and I think I screwed up big time.”
“What do you…” Just then, Ric’s cell phone vibrated. Looking at the number, he recognized the detective’s office number. “Hang on, I’ve got to take this call.”
Ric answered as he watched Mitchell walk back across the room and grabbed another flute which he downed quickly. His friend kept looking around the room, looking for someone, or looking to avoid someone he didn’t know.
“How can I help you this evening detective?” He said smoothly.
“You can tell me where the hell you are and why you’re butt is not in Portland.” He could hear the anger in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving town? We have an open case here, and you go flying off to be with….” He heard her take a deep breath.
“I wasn’t aware that the Portland PD needed to know my whereabouts at all times.” He leaned against the door jam and enjoyed the annoyance in her voice. Would her eyes be sparking fire as he imagined? He smiled imagining the flames shooting in his direction from her.
“Listen Mr. Derby, I made it perfectly clear that I needed to know if you left town for any length of time. I’m trying to run an investigation here, unless you forgot.”
“How could I forget? After all, it is my art that is missing, and my assistant that was killed.” He could hear a loud noise on her line in the background.
“Yeah, well -” he heard her drop the phone, then there was loud popping noise and finally he heard her say, “Someone come get this damn drunk off the floor, he just puked all over my boots.” After a shuffle, he heard her say, “Brian, you jackass, next time cuff the perp before you decide to take a bathroom break. Now, he not only puked on my new boots, he’s also torn my good shirt. You owe me big time rookie.”
He didn’t hear the man’s reply, but when Rob came back on the phone, he thought she said, “Asshole,” under her breath.
“Probl
em, Detective?” Ric asked.
“Nothing that 50,000 volts and a good shoe shine couldn’t handle.” He chuckled, as she continued. “Listen, I needed to know when you leave Portland, I’ve got some questions…”
“I’ll be back in town tomorrow mid-day. How about we meet for lunch?”
“No, I’ll stop by later this week.” He thought he heard annoyance in her voice as she hung up.
Ric hung up with Rob and looked around for Mitchell, but he was gone. Something ate at Ric and he told himself that he needed to check into a few things when he got back to Portland. He didn’t like that Mitchell had been the one to introduce him to Sandi and now she had disappeared and now Mitchell was nervous and acting strange, which wasn’t like him.
Rob hung up the phone and looked down at her torn shirt and her freshly puked on boots.