by Nora Roberts
“Show off.”
“Well, I did spend four years studying.” Setting the paper aside, she stretched her arms high. She was still in her robe, and naked under it. It felt wonderful to be lazy, to have this little island of calm before the next bout of excitement.
Over the rim of his cup, Luke watched the robe shift, gape and reveal a tantalizing glimpse of ivory skin. “Why don’t we finish breakfast, in bed?”
With her arms still extended, Roxanne smiled. “That sounds—”
“Mama!” Like a rocket out of his adjoining room, Nate shot across the carpet. “I did it. I tied my shoe.” Balancing one hand on the table, he plopped his sneakered foot on her lap. “By myself.”
“Incredible. The boy’s a prodigy.” She studied the loose bow that was already becoming undone. “This is certainly a red-letter day.”
“Let me see that.” Luke nipped Nate at the waist and hauled him onto his knee. “Okay, come clean. Who helped you?”
“Nobody.” Eyes wide, Nate stared up into his father’s face. While his son was distracted, Luke quickly secured the bow so that it would stay put. “I swear to God.”
“I guess you’re all grown up then. Want some coffee?”
Nate screwed up his face. “Nah. It tastes yucky.”
“Let’s see then, what else?” Luke bounced the boy on his knee as he considered. “You know, Rox, it seems to me any kid who can tie his own shoes should be able to take care of a dog.”
“Callahan,” Roxanne muttered under Nate’s enthusiastic cheer.
“You’d feed it, wouldn’t you, slick?”
“Sure I would.” Eyes solemn, glowing with sincerity and good intentions, Nate nodded. “Every single day. And I’d teach him to sit, too. And to shake hands. And . . .” Inspiration struck. “To fetch your slippers, Mama.”
“After he’d chewed them, no doubt.” It would take a harder woman than she to resist two pairs of laughing blue eyes and two crooked smiles. “I’m not sharing the house with some yappy little purebred.”
“We want a big, ugly mutt, don’t we, Nate?”
“Yeah. A big, ugly mutt.” He wound his arm around Luke’s neck and looked imploringly at his mother. This was his cue, and performing was, after all, in his blood. “Daddy says they have lots of poor, homeless puppies at the animal shelter. It’s like being in jail.”
“Low, Callahan, really low,” Roxanne said under her breath. “I suppose you think we should go spring one.”
“It’s the humanitarian thing to do, Rox. Right, Nate?”
“Right.”
“I suppose we could look,” she began, but Nate was already hooting and leaping off Luke’s lap to catch her in a fierce hug. “You two ganged up on me.” Over Nate’s head she smiled mistily at Luke. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to it.”
“I’m going to go tell Alice right now!” Nate streaked away, skidded to a halt. “Thanks, Dad.” He grinned over his shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”
Luke couldn’t do much about the grin splitting his face, but he thought it politic to pretend a sudden interest in his breakfast.
“You’re going to spoil him.”
He moved his shoulders. “So? You’re only four years old once. Besides, it feels good.”
She rose to walk over and curl on his lap. “Yes, it does. It feels very good.” With a little murmur of pleasure she cuddled against him. “I guess we have to get dressed. There’s work to do yet.”
“I wish we could spend the day with Nate. Just the three of us.”
“There’ll be other days. Lots of days when this is all over.” She smiled, and with her arms linked around his neck, leaned back. “I’d love to see how Tannenbaum’s doing right now.”
“He’s a veteran.” Luke kissed her nose. “We should be getting a call within the hour.”
“I just hate missing his performance. It should be a once-in-a-lifetime.”
Harvey Tannenbaum was indeed a veteran. For more than two-thirds of his sixty-eight years he’d been a successful fence, dealing with only the cream of the crop. To Harvey, Maximillian Nouvelle had been the cream of the cream.
Roxanne’s proposition that he come out of his four-year retirement and play a small but pivotal role in an elaborate con had initially thrown him off balance. Then it had intrigued him.
In the end, Harvey had graciously agreed to participate, and to show his sentiments toward Max and the Nouvelles, had taken the job gratis.
He was even looking forward to it.
Certainly it was a new twist for Harvey. It was the first time in his long life he had voluntarily walked into a police station. Certainly the first time he had ever confessed—without duress—a transgression to the authorities.
Since it was the first, and by all likelihood the last, Harvey was playing it for all he was worth.
“I come here as a concerned citizen,” he insisted, staring up at the two plainclothes officers to whom he’d been passed by an overworked sergeant. His eyes were sunken, red-rimmed and shadowed, thanks to a dusk-to-dawn movie marathon on cable. He looked, in his baggy suit and wide-striped tie, like a desperate man who’d spent a sleepless night in his clothes.
Only the desperation was an illusion.
“You look worn out, Harvey.” Sapperstein, the senior detective, took the compassionate route. “Why don’t you let us drive you home?”
“Are you listening to me?” Harvey let his indignation rise. “Hell’s fire, boys, I come in here—and it ain’t something I do lightly—to give you the tip of a lifetime. All you can do is tell me to go on home. Like I was senile or something. I didn’t sleep a wink all night worrying if I had the nerve to do this, and all you want to do is pass me off.”
Impatient by nature, irritable by circumstance, the second detective, a basset-eyed Italian named Lorenzo, drummed his fingers on his overburdened desk. “Look, Tannenbaum, we’re kind of busy around here today. You know how it is when there’s a major jewel heist, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do.” He sighed, remembering the good old days. “We used to know how to keep the fun in our work. Today, these young guys, it’s just business. No flair, no creativity. No, you know, magic.”
“Sure.” Sapperstein summoned up a smile. “You were the best, Harvey.”
“Well, you sure as hell never tagged me, did you? Not that I’m admitting anything, mind, but there are some that might say I handled more ice than a trio of Eskimos.”
“Those were the days,” the second detective said between his teeth. “Now, we’d just love to sit around and go back down memory lane with you, but we’ve got work to do.”
“I come here to help you fellas out.” Harvey folded his arms and kept his wide butt planted. “I’m doing my goddamn civic duty. And before I do it, I want immunity.”
“Christ,” Lorenzo muttered. “Call the D.A. Harvey wants immunity. Let’s get the paperwork moving.”
“No need to be sarcastic,” Harvey muttered. “Could be I shouldn’t be dealing with underlings. Maybe I’ll just go to the commissioner.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Lorenzo invited.
“Put a lid on it,” Sapperstein advised. “You got something to say, Harvey, spill it. You look tired, we’re tired, and we are pressed for time.”
“Maybe you’re too busy to hear what I know about the art gallery heist then.” Harvey started to heave himself up. “I’ll just run along. Wouldn’t want to hold you up.”
Both detectives’ ears perked up. Sapperstein kept his persuasive smile in place. He knew it was probable that Harvey was just blowing hot air. After all, word was that he’d been out of business for a couple years, and he could have been feeling a tug of nostalgia.
Then again . . .
“Wait.” Sapperstein patted Harvey’s shoulder to ease him back down. “You know something about that, do you?”
“I know who did it.” Harvey’s smile was smug. He waited one dramatic beat, deciding he owed Roxanne for offering him the job. “Sam Wyatt.�
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Lorenzo swore and broke a pencil in half. “How come I get the crazies?” he asked a higher power. “Why is it always me?”
“Crazy? Why you snot-nosed punk. I was passing rocks under cops’ noses while you were still pissing your diapers. You can’t show more respect than that, I’m out of here.”
“Take it easy, Harvey. So you saw senatorial candidate Sam Wyatt steal the Clideburg collection?” This was asked with studied patience by Sapperstein.
“Shit! How could I see him lift them?” Righteous frustration had Harvey tossing up his hands. “What? You figure I stand on street corners and look for thieves? You’re not going to hang any accessory bullshit on me. I was home sleeping like a baby when the job went down. And since I wasn’t sleeping alone,” he added with a wicked grin, “I got me an alibi.”
“Then why do you claim that Mr. Wyatt stole the Clideburg collection?”
“Because he told me!” Agitation and excellent projection had Harvey’s voice ringing out in the noisy station house. “For Christ’s sake, put two and two together, will you? Maybe somebody—just for hypothetical purposes we’ll say that somebody was me—used to turn over a few rocks for him now and then.”
Lorenzo snorted. “You’re trying to tell us that you fenced for Sam Wyatt?”
“I said no such thing.” Harvey blustered, turned red. “I said hypothetically. If you think you’re going to trick me into incriminating myself, you’ve got another think coming. I came in here of my own free will, and I’m walking out the same way. I ain’t going to jail.”
“Take it easy. Want some water? Lorenzo, get us a cup of water here.”
“Sure? Why the hell not?” In disgust, Lorenzo stomped off.
“Now, Harvey.” In his best cop-as-diplomat voice, Sapperstein continued. “We’re here to listen. That’s a fact. But if you’re going to make up stories like this about a respected member of the government, you’re just going to get yourself in trouble. Maybe you don’t like the guy’s politics, and you’re entitled.”
“Politics, balls.” Harvey let out his own snort of disgust. “I don’t give a flaming shit about his politics. But I’m telling you—hypothetically, got it?”
“Sure, I got it.”
“Hypothetically, I’ve known Sam for a long time. Since he was a teenager. Never cared for him personally, but business is business. Right? Anyway, he used to use me pretty regular. Before he got into politics it was mostly small time, but after, he started hitting bigger targets.”
“So you’ve known Sam Wyatt since he was a kid?” Even Sapperstein’s patience could be strained. He took the cup Lorenzo brought back and held it out to Harvey. “Look, you’re not doing anyone any good this way—”
“I don’t like being pressured,” Harvey interrupted. “And that’s just what the son of a bitch is trying. Look, I’m retired—hypothetically. And if I want to turn down a job, I turn it down.”
“Okay, you turned him down.” Sapperstein rolled his eyes. “You’re not involved. What do you know?”
“I know plenty. I get a call, right? He tells me he’s going to hit the gallery, and I tell him good luck, what’s it to me? So he wants me to start working on liquidating the rocks. I give it a pass, and he gets nasty. Starts talking about making it rough for me. You know, I had a kid by my second wife, Florence. He’s a dentist on Long Island. Well, Wyatt knows about him and says he’ll make things tough. While he’s threatening me, he’s complimenting me. Telling me how I’m the best and he can’t trust any second-rate fence with this kind of merchandise. Reminds me how we worked together before, and how this score’s going to set us both up for good.”
Harvey drank the rest of his water and sighed. “I gotta say, I’ve been losing some sleep over this. Wyatt had me worried, and I have to admit, he had me interested. A job like this doesn’t come along every day. The commission would set me up good. I’ve been thinking about moving to Jamaica. It’s warm there all the time. Half-naked women everywhere you look.”
“Stay focused, Harvey,” Sapperstein advised. “What did you do about the job?”
“I played along. First I thought I might do it, then I started thinking how much heat was going to blow when it went down. I’m not as young as I used to be, and I don’t need the aggravation. So I figured I’d do the right thing—turn him in, you know? There must be like a reward or finder’s fee for that haul. I can do a good deed and make a couple bucks out of it.”
“So he passed you the stuff?” Lorenzo spread his hands. “Let’s see it.”
“Give me a break. I met him yesterday, at the zoo. By the ape house.”
“Fine,” Sapperstein said, cutting his partner off. “Keep going.”
“He tells me he’d pulled it off. He was really high about it, bragging, you know? Never smart to get that emotionally involved with a job. He told me how he’d done it, and how he had planted fakes to buy more time. And he told me he wanted them fenced right after the election.”
“That’s reaching, Harvey.”
“Maybe you think so, but I can tell you something else. The guy’s not right. Here.” Harvey tapped his head.
Sighing, Sapperstein took up a pad. “What cab company did you use to get to the zoo?” He scribbled the information down as Harvey related it. “What time did you get picked up? How’d you get back?” All this could be easily verified. “Just for argument’s sake, how did he tell you he pulled it off?”
Harvey’s heart swelled, as it would if he had a fat fish on the line, or a sparkling gem in his hand. In concise phrases he described a break-in so similar to the genuine heist that it would fall beautifully into place during the investigation.
“Pretty slick—and high-tech. Holograms, electronic jammers.” It could have worked, Sapperstein thought as his cop’s blood began to heat.
“He learned something of magic from these performers out of New Orleans. Lived with them awhile, he told me. They’re like famous or something now. Anyway, he used to try to do card tricks.”
“You know, even if some of this checks out, it’s not enough for us to question Sam Wyatt.”
“I know the ropes, kid. I got more.” With a flourish worthy of a master, he reached inside his shirt pocket and whipped out a paper folded once. As a force of habit, Sapperstein took it by the edges.
Written on it were descriptions of the Clideburg collection.
“He gave that to me, to help me arrange for the fencing. But he made a big mistake. I don’t like threats, and by Christ, I’m retired.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Hypothetically.”
“Don’t get cocky.” Lorenzo scowled at the paper Sapperstein was slipping into an evidence bag. “I guess you want me to send that to the lab.”
“You get enough pieces, Lorenzo, you’ve just got to start putting them together. Have them check it for prints. Find out if Wyatt’s are on file. While you’re at it, see if we can come up with a handwriting sample.”
Lorenzo heaved a gusty sigh. “I just heard they lifted a piece from the display at the gallery. Cuff link, gold. Engraved with the initials SW.”
Sapperstein’s nose all but twitched. “Okay, Harvey, why don’t you come over and sit here?” Sapperstein led him away to a bench near the door of the station. “We’ll take it from here.”
“I get immunity.” Harvey clutched Sapperstein’s jacket sleeve. “I won’t do time for this crap.”
“I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about.” With a last pat on the shoulder, the detective walked away. His bland smile vanished when he reached his partner. “I’m going to get all I can on the cuff link. You tell the lab to put a rush on that paper. Bitch later, Lorenzo,” he said and there was fire in his eyes. “That old man might just have made our careers.”
The old man sat patiently, biding his time. They were wrong, he thought, when they said revenge was sweet. It had a tang. A delicious, lingering tang. And he was enjoying this one for his old pal Max.
“Then it’s the last act.”
She gazed out the window as the wind tossed leaves along the curbs. “I wish Daddy could be here for this one.” She shook off the mood, made herself smile. “I hope this doesn’t delay our return to New Orleans by more than a day or so. I’d hate to miss Halloween at home.”
“We’ll make it.” Lifting her hand, he kissed it. “That’s a promise.”
Sam’s bags were packed for his trip to Tennessee. He had ten days of campaigning on his schedule, all of which would be spent hand in glove with his staff, and his wife. Justine had already given him trouble over the amount of luggage she claimed to need. She was upstairs, pouting over the ruthless way he’d slashed her four suitcases to two.
She’d get over it, Sam mused. Once she could have Senator and Mrs. Samuel Wyatt printed on her Christmas cards, she’d get over a lot of things.
He was sorry the timing didn’t allow him to dole out Luke’s punishment immediately. He’d thought he would enjoy stringing out the tension, but it gnawed at him. He wanted to strike quickly, finally.
It should have pleased him that he’d been on target about the Clideburg collection. Sam had no doubt who had engineered the theft. It would be another weight on the scale if he decided to turn his documentation over to the police.
But that would have to wait until Luke had brought him the file on Gunner.
Then he would use these last ten days before the election to secure his place in history.
He ignored the doorbell, leaving that for the servants. His packing was being completed by his valet, but Sam always dealt with the contents of his briefcase personally. His papers, his speeches, the condoms he used religiously in all extramarital affairs, his schedule, pens, notepads, a weighty book on economics. He snapped the locks shut as a maid came to the doorway.
“Mr. Wyatt, the police are here. They’d like to speak with you.”
“Police?” He caught the avid interest in the maid’s eyes and decided to fire her at the first opportunity. “Show them in.”
“Officers.” Sam came around the desk to extend his hand to both Sapperstein and Lorenzo. It was a good politician’s shake. Firm, dry and confident. “It’s always a pleasure to entertain the boys on the force. What can I get you? Coffee?”