“She’s back,” Josie whispered.
“Okay, thanks. I’m leaving.” Artie sprinted down the stairs. He found a rear exit and pushed through the door, heart pounding. He waited by the back gate, the minutes dragging. Finally, his cell chimed again.
“She’s on her way inside. I distracted her as long as I could.”
“You did good. I’m in the back yard, and will come out in a minute or so. Come to the gate so we can leave together.”
Josie hugged him hard when she joined him, and they walked away as casually as they could, toward the bus stop.
When they were settled at the kitchen table sipping hot cocoa, he told Josie what he’d found.
Her pretty forehead wrinkled into a frown, and her beautiful brown eyes stared at him. “Why would she…”
He shook his head. “I can only guess. She has the real ones stashed somewhere else. She had these made in case she decides to go to the police. Since she didn’t go right away, they’re not going to be happy with her. She can bargain with them to bring in the real ones if they promise not to hassle her for waiting so long.”
Josie frowned some more. “I don’t think that’s the reason, Artie.”
He felt a jolt of surprise. “Then why do you think she had them made?”
“She’s playing with you. She’s come on to you, hasn’t she? In just the few minutes we spoke, I could see what kind of woman she is.”
Artie could feel the red creeping up his face and nodded.
“Did you check her apartment for any security devices? Did she leave something in the doorjamb so she’d know someone came into her place? Are you sure you put everything back exactly the way you found it?”
Now it was his turn to stare at his wife. “Why would she go to all that trouble?”
“To prove to you she’s smart. Because she likes playing games. You need to find out more about Ms. Liz. And soon.”
He nodded. Josie was right. She always was.
The next day Artie hired his old friend Geoffrey to follow Liz around and find out what her last name was. He couldn’t believe he’d never tried to learn her real identify, and he hadn’t seen anything in her apartment with her name on it. Which, when he thought about it, was odd.
After he talked to Geoffrey, Artie started near Liz’s apartment and went to every business he knew of or could find that made paste jewelry. When he talked to the owner of Alexis’s, he hit pay dirt.
“Sure, Artie, I remember the jewelry. Unusual enough not to forget. But the woman, she had brown eyes and brown hair.”
“Could have been a wig?”
Don seemed dubious. “I guess.”
“How about her feet? Did you notice her feet?”
Don looked surprised now. “Yeah. Yeah, when she walked in. She had those pointy-toed high heels on, red, and I thought they made her feet look even bigger.”
“So, a wig, brown contact lenses, could have been her. What name did she give you?”
“Lana. Lana Smith.”
Artie smiled. Liz needed to stop obsessing about old movie stars. Liz Taylor. Lana Turner. Who would she come up with next? “She give you a phone number and address?”
“Phone so I could call her when the jewelry was ready.”
Artie placed two twenties on the glass counter. “You kept it, right?”
“Never throw anything away. Just a sec.” Don went to the back room for a few minutes, then came out with a sticky note. Artie copied down the number, thanked Don, and left. Outside, he stopped for coffee and used his cheap, throw-away cell to call the number Don had given him.
Liz answered on the third ring. Artie hung up. Okay, he now had her phone number, address and first name. He hoped Geoffrey would come up with her last name, where she worked and basic routine. The more information he had, the better.
Within a week, he had everything he thought he needed to know about the violet-eyed woman. Her legal name was Liz Thornbird. She had a second apartment in the Village and had no visible means of support. Geoffrey had dug deeper and found out she’d inherited a cool five million from her father three years previously. She’d broken up with a boyfriend a couple of months ago, and didn’t have any fixed routine. Geoffrey figured she used the apartment Artie had seen as a blind, to hide her wealth when meeting new people, especially men. Not rich or connected enough to be in society, she seemed to be adrift. Looking for a hobby, Artie thought. Some way to get the adrenaline pumping. Robbing jewelry stores might just do it. Couldn’t she volunteer at a soup kitchen? He figured she’d tried acting and hadn’t made it. He made his living this way, though. Sure, there was a rush when he was working, but there was also a need. Who was he to pass moral judgment? He only knew he wanted her out of his life. She could become a dangerous liability. And he thought she needed to be taught a lesson. He decided not to bother going through her second apartment, sure that the real jewels wouldn’t be there, either.
All he could do was wait for her to show up in the lobby again. He’d thought of moving, but he hated the idea, and she still might find him. He now had a better plan.
*
Artie wasn’t surprised when, five months later, he saw Liz outside his building, leaning against the stone wall, feet crossed, reading the newspaper. He suppressed a shudder of dislike when she curled her fingers around the crook of his arm. They went to the coffee shop to talk.
After they ordered, Liz said, “You hoped you’d never see me again. Even after all the trouble you went through to search my apartment and have me followed.”
Artie stared at her, shook his head.
“I have practiced every day and learned to do the combination locks, as well. When do you have your next job planned?”
“Sunday. Sunday night. Be at my place at eleven thirty p.m.”
“Of course p.m.” She frowned at him. “You give in too easily.”
“I have had time to resign myself. What else can I do?”
He felt her leg brush against his. He glared at her and she removed it. Looked down so he couldn’t see those violet eyes. “There was nothing else you could do.”
He hid a smile. She had no idea what he could do. His heart hardened even more. He realized he hadn’t liked her from the moment she looked into his open athletic bag. Beautiful eyes or not. Which made it easier to do what he planned to do.
“You will bring the amethysts and return them to me when the job is done. Then you and I are finished.”
Her eyes widened. Then she frowned. Her eyes searched his face and she sighed. He figured she saw how determined he was when she said, “All right.”
But he didn’t trust her. He’d just have to see how things shook out. In the meantime, he needed to talk to a certain long-legged woman and have an important business card made up.
Sunday night in the alley, Artie removed a jeweler’s loupe from his bag and held out his hand to Liz. “Let’s see the amethysts.”
“One at a time, Artie. I will not let you have them all until we are done.”
“Agreed.” She held the flashlight while he carefully examined each stone. These were the real ones. After Liz tucked them away again, Artie showed her how to disable the alarm system. He gestured with his gloved hand to the lock on the back door of Henderson’s Fine Jewelry Store, and Liz had it open in just over one minute. Not bad, Artie thought.
Artie showed her how to check for motion detectors and disable the hidden cameras and silent alarms on the show cases. Then he told her to go off to the left and collect what she decided was the best stuff while he went the other way. When he came to the safe in the back room with the combination lock, he dropped the business card next to the safe, then called her over and had her open it while he stood off to one side blocking her view of the card.
Within thirty minutes, they were done, and they left the store without incident. Liz reluctantly handed Artie the amethysts and pecked him on the cheek. Then they took the bus, each getting off at different stops, each holding an athletic bag
full of loot.
Two days later, the phone call came, and Artie took a leather messenger bag full of the jewelry he’d taken from Henderson’s with him to the coffee shop. After ordering a latte, he waited, then watched a long-legged woman enter. She walked toward him. Mrs. Henderson hadn’t changed since he’d seen her a couple of years ago. Especially her legs. She sat across from him, brushing one of those gams against his. It felt a lot nicer than when Liz did the same thing. Mrs. Henderson smiled at Artie, then patted his hand in a motherly fashion. After all, she was old enough to be his mother.
“It went as you planned.” She ordered coffee when the waitress approached, then turned back to Artie. “I was able to alter the video to just show Liz robbing the place from the cameras you pretended to disable. That gold-embossed business card you left behind with her first name and phone number on it was genius. The police were able to pick her up, still with the jewelry, and they say they have an airtight case. They discovered no trace of a second person, so you’re clear. They actually said they caught her flat-footed, which I found pretty funny after seeing her feet on the video when she opened the safe. It will take a while to get the jewelry back, but I was glad to help after what you did for me and Henry.”
“How is Henry?” It didn’t surprise him that she talked about the store before she mentioned her son. They’d been best friends once, but since the Hendersons were in retail, and Artie was in burglary of retail, they’d parted ways during college. Artie’s only major regret about his chosen profession. That and the distress it sometimes caused Josie.
“Henry is doing fine. I told him about this arrangement, and he said he wants to see you again.”
“Really? I’d like that.” Artie pressed his leg against Mrs. Henderson’s. She smiled as she reached for the messenger bag and left the shop.
Artie sighed as he watched her long legs disappear. So many cold-hearted women in the world. He was lucky to have Josie. He stood up to go home. Home was the best place for him to be.
The Artie Crimes Page 9