Art of the Con: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 6

by Al Boudreau

  “Yep. This could be the big break we’ve been hoping for. Thing is, if she tried using this passport to travel abroad, and was successful, it would prove that her method of fooling the cameras actually works. Let’s hope Stoney included a record of her most recent movement,” I said, holding my breath as I continued to the next page.

  We’d scanned the information for a beat when Sarah said, “Look. Boston to the Netherlands, a short layover in Amsterdam, then on to Johannesburg.”

  I took a few seconds to think about the timeline of when the trip took place, but couldn’t remember the exact date Reynolds claimed to have seen this woman last. “Hold tight. I’m going to go grab my notebook.” I rushed into my office as quickly as I could, eager to connect the dots.

  “We need to call Detective James and Professor Reynolds right away,” Sarah said as I returned.

  “A little early, don’t you think? It’s not even six, yet.”

  She began bouncing in her chair then slapped the table. “You don’t understand, Carter. She’s back. She’s here. LeBlanc flew into Boston, using the Broe alias, just after midnight. Cleared customs with this passport at twelve-thirty this morning.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Who should we contact first? James, or Reynolds?”

  I began pacing back and forth, hoping a little exercise would get the blood flowing to my brain and help clear out the cobwebs. “Probably James. Let’s see if the chief would be willing to authorize picking up LeBlanc for questioning in relation to the pickpocket incident.”

  Sarah looked confused. “Then what? How do we find her, in order to bring her in? She could be anywhere, and we have no real proof she’s even connected to the pickpocket. No way is the chief going to agree to issue a multi-state BOLO for something like this.”

  “You’re thinking too big. We don’t need to request a manhunt. The idea is to make her come to us.”

  “Mind telling me how we’re going to pull that particular rabbit out of a hat?”

  “Simple. We have Reynolds contact her. Tell her that if she agrees to meet with him, he’ll give her what she wants.”

  Sarah thought about it for a moment. “Which is what? Reynolds said he’s worried LeBlanc is going to reveal his infidelity to his wife, but LeBlanc hasn’t even told Reynolds what she wants. No demands have been made, at least not as of yet.”

  “I don’t think there’s any question about what she wants. She wants money. We’ll have the professor tell LeBlanc he’s willing to oblige.”

  “In exchange for what? This woman is far from being stupid, Carter. She’s not going to fall for some two-bit scheme designed to make her show her face.”

  “Exactly my point. Reynolds is desperate to see this woman. Any message he sends her will have a massive amount of sincerity baked in. It’s not as though we’d be asking the guy to pull off some sophisticated, play-acting gig. If anything, just the opposite. My gut tells me that seeing LeBlanc again is far more important to him than any amount of money ever could be.”

  “OK, you made your case,” Sarah said. “I’m on board. Let’s call James and get this plan moving.”

  * * *

  “Thanks for meeting us here so early,” I said to Detective James as he slid in next to Sarah at our usual booth inside The Hometown Diner.

  “I wasn’t about to pass up a free breakfast,” James said as he nodded at the server.

  She proceeded to fill his coffee mug. “You gonna have the special, too, Detective?”

  James looked over at the board. “Eggs in a nest with bacon, huh? Sure, that’ll work.”

  I waited for our server to leave, then said to James, “We have reason to believe you were onto something a few days back when you asked about the guy who stole my wallet.”

  “So, you’re thinking the pickpocket incident is related to one of your cases?” James asked.

  “Afraid so.”

  “Well, you heard Chief Goodhue when you were at the station the other day. He said he was willing to go the distance in order to catch this scumbag.” James took out his notebook. “What have we got?”

  “Woman named Renee LeBlanc, Caucasian, mid-twenties, dual citizenship, is trying her best to bilk a local professor out of his savings. Not sure if her game is blackmail, or if she’s involved in a long con. But, what we do know is that she just re-entered the United States last night from South Africa.”

  “Is SA where she has dual citizenship? There, and the US?”

  “Correct.”

  “So, I’m assuming you know where she is right now,” James said.

  “Not exactly. Our plan is to use the professor to lure her back to Bridgeport, but we wanted to make certain the department would be willing to question her.”

  “What do you have on this LeBlanc woman that ties her to the pickpocket incident?”

  “That’s just it,” Sarah said. “Not much. We do know she’s done a great deal of travelling abroad over the past twelve months, and that she’s looking to make a big financial score. Being that our money got stolen from our bank accounts---”

  “Wait … what?” James said.

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said. “We never got a chance to follow up.” I proceeded to give James an abbreviated summary of what had happened with our fourteen hundred dollars.

  James shrugged. “That’s definitely grounds for reasonable suspicion, right there. You find her and we’ll bring her in. Worse thing that could happen is this LeBlanc character lawyers-up and we end up having to cut her loose.”

  Chapter 22

  “I’ll keep my cell phone fully charged, and in my shirt pocket,” Detective James said as we were about to part ways outside The Hometown Diner. “As soon as you have eyes on Renee LeBlanc, give me a call. I’ll send a black-and-white over to snag her the moment I hear from either of you.”

  “Much appreciated,” I said as I gave him a wave.

  “Yeah, thanks, Detective,” Sarah chimed in.

  James gave us a nod and headed off toward his unmarked cruiser.

  “One down, one to go,” Sarah said. “It’s a little after seven-thirty. Think it’s too early to contact Reynolds?”

  “Nope. This is important. If we wake him up, so be it,” I said as I reached inside my jacket for my phone.

  “Mind if we make the call from inside the car?” Sarah asked. “It’s freezing, out here.”

  I walked around and opened the car door for Sarah, then motioned for her to climb in. “Here. Take the keys and start her up. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done talking to Reynolds.”

  I scrolled down my cell phone contact list to Reynolds’s name and placed the call. Three rings later I heard his voice on the other end.

  “Mr. Peterson,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll be back with you in a moment. I’ll need to step outside.”

  “No worries,” I replied. “Just say the word when you’re ready.”

  A full minute passed before I heard his voice again. “My apologies, Mr. Peterson. Vittoria is home, and our interaction is, shall we say, tentative. I thought it best to take your call outside.”

  “Quite all right,” I said. “Professor, the reason for my call is this: there’s been a significant development in your case, and it’s important we act, immediately. I’m hoping you can meet with us this morning to discuss specifics. The sooner, the better.”

  “By all means. Fortunately, I’m free until two-fifteen this afternoon,” Reynolds replied. “Do you have a specific venue in mind?”

  “Best if you drive to the university,” I said. “We’ll pick you up there, then head back to our place. The matter involves a fair amount of planning, and some serious discretion.”

  “Very well. My parking stall is B37, located in the university’s faculty lot. In an hour, shall we say?”

  “That works. See you in an hour.”

  * * *

  There was little time to do much other than wait around for our meeting with the professor, so we decided to gr
ab a couple coffees and get ourselves over to the university, right away. The rush-hour traffic in our area was somewhat unpredictable; we weren’t about to risk cutting it close, and blowing the opportunity to reel-in Renee LeBlanc.

  I saw no sense in taking up space in the faculty lot and risk getting bounced by security, so we found an empty parking spot on the street, directly across from the university, and opted to wait there, instead.

  I killed the motor and slouched down in my seat. “I should have transferred that new file to our e-readers and brought them along. We’d have had something to keep us busy.”

  “Less than thirty-five minutes to wait,” Sarah said. “It’ll go by quickly.”

  “Question for you,” I said. “When you were reviewing the new packet, did you happen to notice if LeBlanc had travelled anywhere other than to Johannesburg and back using that Janet Broe passport?”

  “I reviewed the entire section twice,” Sarah said. “There was nothing else. Boston to South Africa a week ago. Then, South Africa to Boston, arriving yesterday.”

  “Guess that rules out LeBlanc having been in Bangladesh when our money got taken.”

  “Well, it’s not like these creeps who transferred our funds had to be in Bangladesh to get it done. Once they had our information, they could have initiated that transfer from almost anywhere in the world.”

  “True,” I said. “Ain’t technology great?”

  “It’s totally a double-edged sword. There’s so much that’s good about technology, but it helps make nightmares come to life, too. For instance, having a bunch of money disappear from your bank account.” Sarah let go a sigh. “Man, hackers suck.”

  I laughed. “Unless they’re our hackers.”

  “Touché,” Sarah said. “Hey, mind if I turn on some music?”

  “Go for it.”

  * * *

  It took me a second to remember where I was after a gentle tugging sensation on my earlobe stirred me from my nap.

  “Wake up, sleepy,” Sarah said. “Time to go find Professor Reynolds. I’m gonna climb in the back seat so he can sit up front with you.”

  I waited for Sarah to swap spots then looked back at her using the rear-view mirror. “Bet you a buck he climbs into the back seat with you when we pick him up.”

  “Nah. I don’t think he likes me much, anymore. I’ve called him out on too many things. He has no desire to get close to me, at this point.”

  “Okay, let’s make it five, then,” I said as I drove past the Fulford University Faculty Parking sign. “Slide yourself over and sit behind me. Let’s see which door our contestant chooses.”

  “Suit yourself, Wink Martindale. It’s your money.”

  I spotted Reynolds standing curbside a fair distance away, his trench coat and tweed cap hard to miss. I maneuvered the car around in order to give him direct access to the passenger side of the car when we pulled up.

  I saw him offer a subtle wave as we got closer. He squatted down slightly and pivoted his head to and fro before stepping off the curb, an apparent attempt to get a read on the seating situation inside the car.

  Then, without hesitation, he went directly for the rear door.

  I did my best to keep my chuckles in check as Sarah let go a muffled burst of expletives.

  “Good morning,” said Professor Reynolds. “I hope you had no problem locating me. Fulford is a sprawling campus. It’s easy to get lost, here.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Sarah was a bit confused, but I’ve got your number.” A quick glance in the mirror earned me a nod and a smile from Reynolds, and a squinting stare from Sarah.

  “Would it be premature of me to inquire about the significant development you mentioned earlier?” he asked.

  “We were able to narrow down Renee LeBlanc’s---sorry---Melody Savin’s whereabouts,” I replied. “We now know where she’s been since you saw her last.”

  “Honestly, Mr. Peterson, I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ve been duped. You needn’t feel it necessary to continue the charade. If this woman I thought I knew goes by a different name, well, let’s use that name, going forward, shall we?”

  “I appreciate that, Professor.”

  “Of course, Mr. Peterson. May I ask where Ms. LeBlanc is?”

  “We’re less than a minute away from our house,” Sarah said. “Let’s wait until we get settled in. Is that all right?”

  Reynolds hesitated for a beat, then said, “As you wish.”

  No one said another word until I pulled into our driveway and killed the motor.

  The professor was first to speak. “Charming neighborhood. I had no idea it was here.”

  “We like it,” Sarah responded as she opened the back door to get out.

  I motioned for Sarah and the professor to walk ahead of me and we made our way up the driveway. “Professor, I don’t know if you’re a coffee drinker, but I’m going to start a pot if you’d care for some.”

  “Delightful. Black, if you please.”

  Sarah unlocked the door and said, “Professor, let me take your things, then I’ll show you into the living room.”

  He acknowledged her with a smile and a nod before his expression turned more serious. “I’m curious as to how my wife Vittoria knew where to find you. If my recollection serves me, there was no reference to a physical location present on the documents I signed with you.”

  “You said it, yourself, Professor. Your wife is intelligent, and could have been a spy.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “We live in a small city. I’m sure we weren’t all that hard to find.”

  “True, on all counts,” he said then followed Sarah into the other room.

  I got the coffee going, got my notebook out, and went in to join them. I found Sarah seated on the couch, the professor---of course---by her side. I took a seat in the armchair facing them. “Coffee will be ready, shortly, but I think we’d better get started. Professor, before we get into the latest developments, I need to ask you about something we neglected to discuss during our previous meetings. Do you have any children?”

  “We do not. I made it crystal clear to Vittoria, on the day we first met, I had no interest in such a thankless endeavor as raising children. It was obvious to me at the outset; our intellectual pursuits would take up the vast majority of our time, leaving precious little to devote to proper parenting.”

  “I’m curious,” Sarah said. “Any regrets?”

  “None,” he replied, no hesitation. “I deal with children on a daily basis, ages ranging from late teens to early twenties, notwithstanding. I deeply cherish the ability to return home to peace, tranquility, and a good, stiff drink at the end of a long day.”

  “And, Vittoria?” I asked.

  “Regrets? I think not. Not since that first day together has the topic of offspring been broached. Not once. In over four decades. Had it been on her mind, I’m certain I would have been informed.”

  “Thank you, Professor,” I said. “Good to know. Moving on to the topic of Ms. LeBlanc, AKA Janet Broe. We’ve learned that, in addition to obtaining a Connecticut driver’s license and Fulford University student ID, LeBlanc obtained a US passport with her Broe alias, and subsequently used it to travel to Africa and back.”

  “Africa?” Reynolds sat back, appearing stupefied. “Well … that would certainly explain why she’s been remiss in issuing proper replies to my text messaging attempts,” he muttered---as if he were thinking out loud, instead of responding to us.

  I was about to speak when Sarah jumped in. “Professor, just how many texts have you sent to this woman?”

  He snapped-to, as if he’d forgotten we were still in the room. “Well, I don’t know how many, exactly. Several per day, I suppose.”

  “So, over a dozen?” Sarah asked, an air of bewilderment in her tone.

  “Yes, that sounds right.”

  “May we see them?” Sarah asked.

  He looked her in the eyes as if she’d just asked him to strip down bare. He hesitated, then slowly reache
d inside his blazer and took out his cell phone.

  Sarah grabbed the device, brought it over to me, then crouched down so we could review the communications together.

  I tapped the text icon and watched a short list of names populate the screen. We scanned high and low for a few seconds before looking over toward the professor.

  “Pookie,” he said, fully aware of our confusion.

  We managed to keep it together as I tapped the cutesy nickname and a cascade of one-sided messages appeared. I repositioned the phone so we could both see them, then began reading the text messages he’d composed to the woman he so lovingly thought of as Melody Savin. By the time I’d reached the messages from day three of her absence, I was ready to take a break, and handed the phone off to Sarah.

  She, on the other hand, seemed riveted, rising to her feet and making her way back over to the couch.

  I avoided eye contact with Reynolds, fully aware he probably would have preferred standing naked before us right now, rather than to have his pathetic, heart-wrenching pleas examined. My gut told me I should excuse myself and call Sarah into the other room for a quick pow-wow. But, I simply sat in silence, anticipating the uncomfortable response she likely had in store for the professor.

  I didn’t have long to wait.

  “Oh, dear,” Sarah said, looking back and forth between us. “This … this is a problem.”

  It was the professor’s turn to toss his attention back and forth. “I don’t---I’m not following, here.”

  I looked at Sarah, and she at me.

  Sarah handed the cell phone back to Reynolds. “Excuse us for a moment, would you please, Professor. We’ll be right back.”

  Sarah stood up and made eye contact with me while motioning toward the hall. I followed her out of the room and into my office.

  “For crying out loud, Carter!” Sarah exclaimed, doing her best to keep Reynolds from hearing. “No wonder LeBlanc hasn’t made contact. Reynolds managed to empty the entire well with that pitiful string of verbal vomit. Nothing’s going to lure this woman back for a face-to-face with this guy, now. I mean, what do we have left to work with, here?”