Painted Beauty

by J. M. LeDuc

  “Keep your communication open and check in on the hour. No one moves without my say so.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Fletcher said.

  “Got it, Boss Lady,” Garcia answered.

  A little after three, Garcia radioed, “All’s quiet. I’m making my move.”

  “In and out,” Sin replied. “I want radio confirmation when you leave and when you are on the road north.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Twenty minutes later, Garcia returned. “I’m out. See you in a few hours.”

  Sin radioed at four a.m. “The streets are finally empty. I’m heading in.”

  “Are you sure you want to play it the way we designed it?” Fletcher said. “A lot could go wrong.”

  “I like my odds,” Sin said. “Let me know when she is on her way.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Sin made her way to the alley behind the Stokler Gallery on Atlantic Avenue in Delray Beach. She picked the lock and disabled the newly installed alarm. Using a penlight, she made her way around the gallery. She eyed Joel’s work and gasped at the price tags. The notoriety of the case and Ashley’s acquittal must have made the demand for Miranda’s work that much greater. There wasn’t a price lower than $75,000; even the prints had doubled.

  Sin drew her Balisong from her back pocket, opened it with a flick of her wrist, and got to work.

  When she was finished, she waited until five a.m., called Fletcher, calmly took a seat, and waited.

  Within a few minutes, her earpiece buzzed. “I made the call. She bought it hook, line, and sinker. She’s on the move,” Fletcher radioed. “I’ll follow her, but I’m sure she is headed your way.”

  “I promise to welcome her with open arms,” Sin replied.

  Five minutes later, the front door opened and Sin could see Ashley’s silhouette enter the gallery. She punched in the number sequence on the keypad before turning on the lights. It was obvious that she had jumped out of bed and drove over as fast as possible when the alarm company called. Her hair was disheveled and she was dressed in a pair of yoga pants, sweatshirt, and flip-flops. Not exactly the designer chic she was normally seen wearing.

  Sin leaned against the front of the receptionist’s desk, feet crossed, gun belt on, watching as Ashley honed in on her.

  “You! For Christ sakes,” Ashley ranted. “What are you going to do now, arrest me for jaywalking?”

  “I just happened to be nearby, celebrating a late night with some buddies from the PBSO, when the call came in that your place had been broken into. My friends were tired, so I told them that I would take the call.”

  “Bullshit. I’m calling my attorney.” Ashley removed her phone from her purse and started to dial when she happened to look around. Her mouth gaped open, she dropped her phone, and began to hyperventilate. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “What did you do?”

  “Me?” Sin said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just arrived a few minutes before you did. You can check with Sergeant Glenn of the Palm Beach Sherriff’s Office if you’d like.”

  Ashley stumbled around the gallery looking at and touching all of her ruined paintings. Each one had been sliced and damaged beyond repair.

  “It really is a shame, isn’t it,” Sin said. “I mean, there must have been over a million dollars in artwork just in this gallery alone.”

  It took a moment, but Sin’s words finally registered in Ashley’s mind. “What do you mean, alone?”

  “I received a call from one of the agents working in the Coral Gables area just before you arrived. It seems that whoever did this, did the same thing in your brother’s—sorry, I mean, your store down south.”

  Ashley slumped down in a chair, her head in her hands, and looked like she was about to cry. Suddenly, she began to laugh.

  Sin sat across from her and waited for the hysterics to end.

  Ashley pushed her tangled tresses away from her face and spat as she spoke, “You think you’ve ruined me, well you’re wrong! Everything in here is insured for one hundred and fifty percent of its net worth. You just made me a very wealthy woman.”

  Sin wiped the spittle from her face and leaned in towards Ashley. “Want to hear something ironic?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been busy since we’ve last met. You see, this thing about Joel being the real artist was eating at me. I mean, all we had was his word. Right?”

  Sin sensed Ashley’s growing frustration, but was in no rush to end this dance. “I called a few people,” Sin continued, “who called a few people and, before you know it, I was able to reach a few people who were able to confirm that Joel Ash, not Miranda Stokler, is the real artist.”

  “How—”

  “We had three renowned art forgery experts examine Miranda’s work and the paintings that Joel is working on in prison. Each came back with the same opinion. All of the art was painted by Joel.”

  “So what?”

  “So…it seems that your insurance policy specifically covers Miranda Stokler artwork.” Sin eyed the walls and moved her arms about. “There is no Miranda Stokler artwork in here, or in Miami. All of this art was painted by Joel Ash.” Sin watched as the color drained from Ashley’s face. “Therefore, none of it is insured.”

  Ashley’s expression went from one of shock to rage. She lurched at Sin and swung at her with a fist. Sin was ready for it and twisted to her right, causing Ashley to fall forward over the now empty chair. Sin grabbed Ashley’s wrist and cuffed it behind her back. She reached around, caught her other arm, pulled it in an awkward position, heard Ashley issue a yelp of pain, and cuffed both her wrists. When it was all over, Sin spun her around and shoved her down in the chair.

  Ashley’s chest was heaving, and her teeth were clamped shut.

  “I’ve seen that face before,” Sin said, taking the other seat. “It was the same face I saw on your mother just before a bullet pierced her skull.”

  Ashley sat back as best she could, and snorted. “So now you’re going to shoot me?”

  Sin pulled one of the revolvers out of her holster, opened the cylinder, and checked to make sure all the chambers were filled with bullets. Spinning the cylinder, with a snap of her wrist Sin closed it and took aim. The wide-eyed look she received was priceless.

  “I thought about it,” Sin said, looking down the barrel at Ashley, “but I decided death would be too good for you. In fact, I even thought that jail would be too good for you.” Sin stood up, holstered her gun, and walked around the gallery. “I thought to myself, what would bring real justice to this case? What would be the worst possible outcome for Ashley Stokler?” Turning, she walked back with a smile on her face and retook her seat. “And do you know what I decided?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.” Ashley still had an air of invincibility to her voice.

  “I decided to leave you free. Free and destitute. Not a penny to your name, and with a reputation so corrupt that you won’t be able to get a job even if you beg for it. Do you know how I’m going to accomplish that?”

  Ashley was quiet. The invincibility seemed to seep from her eyes.

  “Since every penny you’ve made has been on Miranda Stokler paintings, signed by Mommy and certified by you for their authenticity, and since we have now proven all of that to be fraudulent, all of your assets have now been frozen.”

  “You can’t do that?”

  “Already did,” Sin said. “In fact, by the end of the day you will be absolutely penniless. Even your offshore accounts will be closed.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Everything is possible when you want it bad enough.” Sin stood and looked down on Ashley. “I’m sure that’s what you were thinking when you killed your brother. It wasn’t good enough to have half of everything, was it? You saw an opportunity to have it all, and you took it.”

  “He was weak. He didn’t deserve any of it. I’m the one who worked my ass off marketing Miranda’s work. He just s
at there in his pathetic little world and collected on my efforts.”

  “So you killed him,” Sin screamed.

  Ashley opened her mouth to answer, but quickly closed it. “I want to speak to my attorney.”

  Sin yanked Ashley by the arms and un-cuffed her. “You can talk to anyone you want, you’re a free woman. When we first met, you told me that karma was a wonderful thing.” Sin smiled and walked confidently toward the door. “I would have to agree. Have a nice life, Ashley.”

  Outside, she saw Garcia walking toward her from across the street and Fletcher’s jeep parked a half a block up the road.

  “Nice work, Boss Lady,” Garcia said, as Sin reached the vehicle.

  “Same to you both,” Sin said. “I couldn’t have solved this case without you.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Later that night, Sin was in the Miami Beach office finalizing her reports when Evelyn walked in.

  “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Sin looked up from her laptop, rubbing her tired eyes. “I’d love some. But, why are you here so late?”

  “Late? It’s six in the morning.”

  Sin leaned back and stretched. “Damn, how long have I been writing this stupid report? This is what I hate about being back with the FBI.”

  Evelyn laughed, leaving to make coffee.

  “Hey, what day is it?” Sin asked.

  “Sunday, why?”

  Sin grabbed her backpack, sunglasses, and keys, “I’m going to pass on the coffee, but can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “My report is on the computer. Will you please email it to Frank?”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Evelyn said. “And what should I do if he calls looking for you?”

  “Tell him I went for a long bike ride with a friend.” Sin smiled and hugged Evelyn. “I’d say goodbye, but I know I will be seeing you soon.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t play coy, I know Charlie called and invited you to the Keys. I’ll see you down there.”

  Evelyn hugged her back. “See you soon.”

  Sin sat on her bike, sipping a cup of coffee from a donut shop, and gazed out at the Atlantic Ocean as the sun started to rise. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.

  “I was wondering if I would ever find you here again.”

  Turning, she saw a comforting smile. “Officer Keith Jones of the Miami Beach Bike Patrol, I almost didn’t recognize you without your bicycle.”

  “If that’s your try at humor, it needs work,” he said, stepping off his motorcycle.

  “I’m afraid that’s as good as it gets.”

  “Then, I guess I will just have to get used to it.” Sin watched as his eyes moved from her to her Styrofoam cup. “I know of a place not far from here where we can exchange that nasty stuff for a freshly brewed cup of espresso.”

  Sin dumped the remnants of her coffee in the sand and tossed the cup in the trash. “That should have been your opening line,” she said.

  “Where is this café?”

  “Lincoln and Collins. Just follow me.”

  Smiling, Sin jumped on the starter arm, and dropped her bike into first gear. “I don’t follow anybody,” she winked, as he got back on his own ride.

  And with a twist of her right wrist, she tore out of the beach parking lot, with Keith in tow.

  CHAPTER 75

  Three weeks later, Sin met Frank at the Capitol Grill in D.C. Eyes turned and watched as she walked in. The clicking of the three-inch-heeled boots announced her presence. Her skin-tight jeans, hourglass figure, and mesmerizing green eyes secured her welcome.

  “You do know how to make an entrance,” Frank said as Sin took a seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind, but since you were late I ordered for you.”

  Sin looked down and smiled. “T-bone steak, rare; a baked potato, loaded; and,” she lifted her mug and drank greedily, “an ice-cold Budweiser in a chilled glass. No wonder you’re the Director of the FBI.”

  Frank sat back and crossed his arms. “Any idea why I asked you here?”

  “I assumed dinner, drinks, and the hopes of getting into my pants.”

  Frank laughed. “You are one spunky bitch.” He leaned in and sipped his scotch. “I called you here for two reasons. I wanted to give you a personal report on the case—”

  “Which is?”

  “Joel agreed to your request. He will continue to paint while incarcerated with all proceeds going to abused children.” Sin’s face lit up in a stunning smile. “As of four days ago, all of Ashley’s possessions have been confiscated by the government. They will be auctioned off with all proceeds going to the new orphanage in the Florida Keys.”

  Sin’s jade-green eyes began to well up with gratitude. “That’s a nice gesture, Frank, but I just wanted justice.”

  “The donation was my idea,” Frank smiled. “The court agreed. And, in a way, after what Miranda did to those kids, it is justice for the money to go to children who really need a loving home…and a chance.”

  Clearing his throat, he continued, “Charlie was able to empty all of Ashley’s offshore accounts. The money is now in another account for disbursement at a later date.”

  “And Ashley? How is she handling all of this?”

  “Not well. Most of her friends have deserted her. She has no job, no home, and no money. It’s only a matter of time before she does something rash.”

  Sin raised her glass. “Here’s to justice.”

  Frank clinked his glass with hers and drank.

  “You said there were two reasons you had me come to D.C.,” Sin said between bites of her steak. “What’s the other?”

  Frank sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been reviewing the reports on this case,” he said. “You didn’t exactly followed protocol at all times.”

  “I solved the case.”

  “You bypassed the chain of command in Iowa. You manipulated some the players involved.”

  Sin mimicked Frank’s posture. “Get to the point, Frank.”

  “I need you to turn over your creds.”

  “Seriously?” Sin reached into her back pocket, tossed her credentials on the table, and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’re firing me . . . again?”

  “Officially.”

  Frank leaned in, reached in to the inside pocket of his suitcoat, and slid a new set of creds toward Sin. “Let’s face it, you work better off the grid. Officially, you’re no longer with the Bureau. Unofficially, you work for me. If your credentials are ever checked, the only person who will get the inquiry is me.”

  “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Sin said, picking up her new creds.

  “Something like that,” Frank smiled.

  “When does this arrangement go into effect?”

  “Six months from today.”

  Sin arched one eyebrow.

  “I granted you a six month personal leave so you could go north with Charlie.”

  At the end of a very good meal, Sin hugged Frank. From the way his body tightened up, she could tell he wasn’t expecting it. “I guess we’re even,” she said.

  “Even for what?”

  “For firing my ass seven years ago.”

  “Well…since we’re even,” Frank said as they walked outside, “how about a new moniker?”

  “You’re not going to call me Barracuda, are you?” Sin said as she swung her leg over the saddle of her Harley.

  Frank laughed. “No, there was—and still is—only one Barracuda. I was thinking ‘La Perla Ángel de la Justicia.’ ”

  Sin pulled her thick, black hair back in a ponytail and kick-started her hog. “Pearl Angel of Justice. Not bad.”

  “Answer my calls, Sin.”

  “See you in six months, Frank.”

  Squeezing her front brake lever, Sin gunned the throttle and spun her back wheel before releasing her brake and tearing down Pennsylvania Avenue.

  Frank walked back
up the block toward his office. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her, he thought. Hearing a familiar noise in the breeze, he looked up at the American flag waving over the White House and took a deep breath. But I’m damn glad I have her.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mark Adduci, writing as J. M. LeDuc, is a native Bostonian, who transplanted to South Florida in 1985. He shares his love and life with his wife, Sherri and his daughter, Chelsea.

  Blessed to have had a mother who loved the written word, her passion was passed on to him. It is in her maiden name he writes.

  J.M. LeDuc’s first novel, “Cursed Blessing,” won a Royal Palm Literary Award in 2008 as an unpublished manuscript in the thriller category and was published in 2010. The rest of the Trilogy of the Chosen: “Cursed Presence” and “Cursed Days” followed in 2012, as well as a novella, “Phantom Squad”—a prequel to the trilogy. “Cornerstone,” the continuation of the Phantom Squad series was published in 2013 to critical acclaim.

  “Sin” was the first book in the Sinclair O’Malley series.

  J.M. is a proud member of the prestigious International Thriller Writers (ITW) as well as the Florida Writers Association (FWA) and loves to interact with his fans. He can be reached at jm_leduc@yahoo.com and on Facebook on his author page.

  SIN

  SINCLAIR O’MALLEY (Book 1)

  Recruited by the FBI straight out of Quantico for her intelligence and attitude.

  Released by the bureau for the same reasons.

  Now, they need her back!

  Six girls have washed up along the Florida Keys and four agents are dead. The bureau’s only chance is a rogue agent who flies by her own wings.

  It is said, “Fight fire with fire.” The bureau knows, “Fight sin with SIN.”

  SIN

  Her name says it all: Tempting―Dangerous―Deadly

  “Fast-paced and pulsating with energy. LeDuc has a winner with Sin. What a woman!”

  —Paul Kemprecos, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Grey Lady