Shadows from the Past

by Terry Ambrose

  “Can you somehow alert the police? I’d love to see these clowns get picked up.”

  “For sure, dude. You got a whole police department like ten feet away. Eye’s in the sky again.”

  “Looks like it’s show time, gang,” Skip said. “I’ll tell Bruno he’s to go in alone or we cancel the deal.”

  “Thanks,” Roxy said. “And make sure he’s unarmed. I don’t need a shootout up here on the second floor. Lily’s downstairs watching and will let me know when he walks in.”

  “I’m totally on it.”

  “That’s my girl,” Roxy said.

  “I don’t expect the cops to come running, but since one of these guys is wanted, maybe I can make Bruno nervous enough to send them away. Here we go.”

  Skip stepped out from behind the palms and stood before Bruno’s entourage. He kept his hands raised and his palms facing the men, doing his best to make it clear he didn’t have a weapon. Bruno stepped in front of his bodyguards and glared at Skip.

  “Two things you need to know,” Skip declared in a loud voice easily heard over the traffic on the Coast Highway. “Your movements are on camera and there’s a building full of cops right across the plaza.”

  “Tall dude on the left’s name is Dexter and has the warrant,” Baldorf said. “Cops are on alert.”

  Both men looked over their shoulders nervously, but Bruno didn’t. Instead, his right cheek twitched and his jaw muscles tightened as he kept his gaze fixed on Skip.

  “It will take about thirty seconds for this place to be crawling with cops.” Skip pointed at the taller of Bruno’s bodyguards. “And since Mr. Dexter has an outstanding warrant, that would be very bad for all of you.”

  Dexter had salt-and-pepper hair and a trimmed goatee; he let his attention drift across the plaza, then cleared his throat. When Bruno shot a glance at him and grimaced, he shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Boss…”

  “Shut up. You told me things were resolved.”

  “You were supposed to come alone, Bruno,” Skip said. “You can send these two off, but if you try to enter the building with these guys in tow, any deal you were hoping for is off the table.”

  “Skip, tell him I’ll torch The Last Warhol if either of those guys steps foot inside this library.”

  “And, Bruno, be aware that Roxy will destroy The Last Warhol if these two don’t leave now. You’ll never see your beloved piece of artwork again. What’s it going to be?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Roxy

  STANDING IN THE middle of the small conference room, The Last Warhol leaning against the wall with a sheet draped over it, and my heart thudding in my chest, I couldn’t stop the what-if scenarios playing out in my head. There were so many things that could go wrong in the next few minutes—from Baldorf’s drone falling out of the sky to one of Bruno’s thugs getting violent—I had a lot to think about. It was an odd sensation, standing here alone and listening to a conversation taking place outside the building and knowing I was not the one solely determining my future.

  When Skip reiterated the terms of the meeting with Bruno, I couldn’t stand it and walked out of the room and went to the stairs. The library lobby was laid out below me. And outside the door, four men stood in the plaza looking like they were in an old-time standoff. Bruno’s two thugs were rough around the edges, and the shortest of the group, Bruno, reminded me of a swarthy villain in a bad movie. And standing opposite the villains was Skip, my knight in shining armor, the man who had stolen my heart. I bit my lower lip and watched, my pulse racing at the laundry list of bad possibilities.

  “Good,” Skip said. He gestured toward the door as the two men who had accompanied Bruno left in the opposite direction. “He’s coming your way.”

  Lily sounded excited as she spoke. “He’s at the stairs, Roxy.”

  “I see him.” Bracing myself on the handrail, I waited. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Totally.”

  “Don’t get too used to it. You’re going back to school tomorrow.”

  “Bor-ing.”

  “Nor-mal,” I shot back.

  Bruno stood at the base of the stairs looking up. He offered me a curt nod and took the first step.

  The truth is, cons didn’t always work out. It was part of the game. But today was less of a con than it was taking a stand, and that felt altogether different. The stakes weren’t for money, but our lives.

  Bruno was breathing heavily by the time he reached the landing. He looked old and tired. Perhaps the last few days had been as hard on him as they had on the rest of us. We exchanged a brief greeting, after which I had him follow me.

  “Why this location, Miss Tanner?”

  “To be honest, I trust you about as much as you trust me.”

  “I see.” He snickered and nodded to himself as he followed.

  I led him to the room, which now felt cramped and isolated. My palms were damp. How ironic. I’d finally realized I didn’t mind being ‘normal,’ but couldn’t seem to get there.

  “I think you’ll recognize this,” I said as I reached for the sheet covering the painting.

  Bruno sucked in a breath and his eyes widened when I pulled the sheet away. He took one faulty step forward, followed by another. It appeared he was having trouble breathing. “May I?” he croaked as he put on a pair of reading glasses.

  I stepped to one side. “Inspect it as closely as you like.”

  He took a few more steps, and when he was standing in front of the piece, leaned forward until he was only a foot away. His jaw fell, and he reached out as if he were going to touch the edge, but his fingers stopped a few inches away. He pulled another small plastic case from his back pocket, inside which there was a magnifying glass. This time, he didn’t ask permission, but inspected the piece closely.

  When his inspection brought him to the signature, he spent nearly half a minute going over it, twice craning his neck and peering at me, his eyes large behind the reading glasses.

  “How did you obtain this, Miss Tanner?”

  “The person who gave it to me wishes to remain anonymous for the moment.”

  He removed the glasses and held them in one hand as he straightened up. “You will excuse me if I doubt your truthfulness, Miss Tanner.”

  Unoffended, I returned his steady gaze and spoke with absolute conviction because the words were true—at least to some extent. “I understand. You will find nothing wrong with this piece, Bruno. It is The Last Warhol.”

  Bruno stepped behind the painting and inspected it for a few seconds. When he finished, he gave me a rueful smile. “Perhaps,” he said. “But it is not the same piece I owned.”

  “Oh?” My insides cringed, but I maintained my composure. “Why do you say that?” I asked sweetly.

  He pocketed the glasses and the magnifying glass and shook his head. “You see, Miss Tanner. There was a date written on the back.” He pointed at the lower righthand corner. “It was made at the time of my purchase and was, of course, only visible from the back. It was tiny, but it was a way to commemorate the occasion. This copy has no such marking, therefore, no matter how good the forgery, it remains simply that. A fake.”

  What investor in his right mind defaced his purchase—even if it was in a place where it couldn’t be seen? I supposed the answer might be, the distrustful kind. I held his gaze, that of a man both confident and filled with fear. He had come here expecting a fraud, and now was convinced he’d found it. In that case, why not give him one?

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Skip

  WHEN BRUNO ENTERED the library, Skip glanced up to where the drone had perched earlier. “Baldorf, I can’t see the mothership. What happened to it?”

  “I followed Papa Panaman’s two goons. Thought you’d want to tidy up.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “From the way their coats hung, it looked like those dudes were carrying.”

  “They were,” S
kip said.

  “And the one dude has the outstanding arrest warrant.”

  “So your plan is to give the cops a little extra incentive to get here right away and chat with them?”

  “Roger that.”

  “I’m proud of you, buddy. You’re getting more devious every single day.”

  “Thanks, bro. Gonna take that as a compliment. Messaging you their location. Click the link in the text and follow the map. It will take you to their car.”

  Skip followed the route on the map. He only had to walk two blocks before he spotted a car with the two men sitting in the front seat.

  “Excellent, Baldorf. I’ll call it in with Grimes.”

  “You sure he’ll do something about a tip you give him?”

  “I’ll convince him. He won’t want two clowns with concealed weapons running around town.” Skip dialed the detective’s number and introduced himself.

  “What is it with you, Cosgrove? Are you determined to screw with me until I retire?”

  “Not at all, Detective. I’m tying up some loose ends on my kidnapping case and discovered one of the two guys hired by Bruno Panaman has an outstanding warrant for assault, and he’s carrying a concealed weapon. In your neighborhood.”

  “And you want me to clean this up for you,” Grimes snapped.

  “As a concerned citizen I didn’t think you’d want a couple of felons carrying weapons in your town.”

  “You know what, Cosgrove? Every time I talk to you, I realize how little of this town is mine. Where are these alleged armed felons?”

  “They’re on the corner of Civic Center Drive and Nevada in a blue Honda.”

  “If these two guys are sitting in their car, how do you know about them?”

  “Let’s say a little birdie told me. Believe me, Detective, I haven’t done anything illegal.”

  “Today.” Grimes let out a low groan. “Let me guess, you want me to stick my neck out for you because we’re such good friends.”

  “Not at all, Detective. I’ll text you the details.” Skip hung up and spoke to Baldorf. “You heard all that?”

  “The whole thing. You want me to text Grimes and make it look like it came from you?”

  “You read my mind. I should get back to the library in case Roxy needs me.”

  “Girl’s got it all under control, dude, but it sounds like things are about to get super interesting.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Roxy

  I GAZED AT The Last Warhol, captivated by its beauty. It’s power. And the consequences of a forty-year-old plan of retribution concocted by Remedios Anna Benedetti. With her plan, she’d put in place events that had the potential to ruin the man she’d come to hate. And Bruno, with his desire to commemorate the occasion of a successful conquest, had handed me the honor of finishing what Remedios started.

  “You are correct, Bruno. This is a case of fraud—forgery, if you will.”

  Once again, his jaw dropped, then he laughed. “You are admitting this? That you brought me here to deceive me? What lies do you tell me now?”

  “No lies. I didn’t bring you here to deceive you, but to enlighten you. Before I tell you the full story, though, answer a question for me. Was Remedios pleased when you purchased The Last Warhol?”

  “Remedios?” he stammered. “How do you know of her?”

  “In a moment,” I said calmly. “Was she pleased?”

  His forehead creased deeply, and he massaged it with one hand as he watched the floor. I pulled a chair out from the table and pushed it in his direction.

  “No. I will not sit,” he said, then swallowed hard.

  “She was quite happy, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “How did you find out?”

  “I’ve learned all about Remedios Anna Benedetti. I’m aware you loved her, and that you refused to marry her, even though she loved you deeply. Did you realize her love, which you poisoned by offering to keep her as your mistress, turned to hate?”

  Bruno reached out and took the back of the chair, which slid sideways on its casters as he applied his weight. “How? How did you get this information? Only two people knew, and the other is dead.”

  “That’s incorrect. There was a third. Remedios told her godfather.”

  “Of our relationship? Why?”

  “That will become clear in a moment. You see, Bruno, Remedios did not take kindly to being spurned, but she couldn’t exact her revenge without another’s help.”

  Lily’s voice spoke in my ear. “Are you like ready for us?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. Come in.”

  “Who are you speaking to, Miss Tanner?”

  I ignored Bruno’s question and turned sideways enough to watch both Bruno and the door at the same time. “You’re about to find out. I’m not the one who should tell this story. I will leave that to Mr. Richards. He is, after all, the genius behind The Last Warhol.”

  Lily walked slowly, holding the arm of the old man whose feet shuffled more slowly than I’d seen so far. I rolled another of the chairs forward, which he accepted gratefully. Bruno frowned as he watched Richards, but from his expression he understood something momentous was coming.

  “My name is P.T. Richards.” The old man swallowed, licked his lips, and gazed up at Lily. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. “Would you mind getting a dampened paper towel from the restroom for me? I seem to be feeling quite warm.”

  She nodded and darted out of the room. Richards turned to Bruno.

  “Mr. Panaman, we are both old men now. We both now face our own mortality. You may wish to take revenge on me for what I am about to tell you, but you would be doing me a favor. I believe it more likely that after I have finished, you will want me to suffer for my misdeeds.”

  Lily returned with the damp paper towel and handed it to Richards. He placed it against his forehead, his fingers trembling as he did so.

  “Who are you?” Bruno snapped.

  “As Miss Tanner has told you, I am the godfather of Remedios Anna Benedetti. I am also the creator of The Last Warhol—both of them.” Bruno blinked and turned his gaze aside, but Richards continued. “Even Remedios never knew what I had done. In a sense, it was my ultimate betrayal—to fulfill her one wish while allowing my own weakness to consume me.”

  Bruno stared at Richards, then me. He shook his head. “I do not understand.”

  “Ah. Now,” Richards said. “But you will.” Richards nodded. “You will understand fully.”

  By the time Richards finished, Bruno was also sitting. His complexion, normally a healthy olive, had turned ashen. When he tried to mutter a feeble excuse about not knowing what he’d done to Remedios, Richards granted no mercy.

  “No, Mr. Panaman. You understood perfectly what you had done. You simply chose to ignore her feelings.” Richards kept a steely gaze trained on Bruno for a minute, then looked at me and nodded. “I believe I have done what I intended. I feel Remedios now has the closure she desperately wanted. Thank you, Miss Tanner, for helping me.” He stood, bent and frail, and turned to Lily. “I am very tired now. Would you mind helping me to the front door?”

  Lily agreed, took Richards by the arm, and led him away. I watched as he shuffled toward the elevator. Turning to Bruno, I saw the effects of his past coming back to haunt him. It was painted on his face and in his posture. He leaned forward staring at the floor.

  “Do you believe now that there are two copies of The Last Warhol?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he whispered. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he regarded the painting.

  “And do you know what I will do with this copy if any harm comes to Lily, Skip, Mr. Richards, or me?”

  A grim smile formed on his lips, and a tear trickled down his cheek. “You would show it to Anthony Cardoza, of course.”

  “Exactly. I have no desire to turn Cardoza against you, Bruno, but you must understand, I will not allow any harm to come to any one of us. Especially Lily. If it does, there will be procedures in place,
and you will become a walking dead man overnight. Once Cardoza learns his one-of-a-kind piece is not what he bought, I think he will show you no mercy.”

  Bruno wiped the tear on his cheek away and stood. “Brilliantly played, Miss Tanner. You will have no more trouble from me.” He walked out the door and down the stairs.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Skip

  SKIP FELT MUCH like a participant in a vast political conspiracy as he waited for Roxy’s part to play out. Though he heard the dialogue through his earpiece, it wasn’t as satisfying as being present. Here, on this little pony wall bordering a planter, he was too far away to help if Bruno started trouble.

  Lily and Richards had left the room several minutes prior, but so far they hadn’t exited the library. Her silence, and the length of time it was taking for them to exit the building, had Skip concerned. “Lily?” he asked, “Are you still inside with Mr. Richards?”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t feeling so good, so we sat down in the lobby. The other dude is coming down the stairs now.”

  “Can he see you?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s like not paying attention to anything.”

  “Good. Stay where you are. If he comes your way, let me know immediately.”

  When Bruno appeared, his face appeared drawn as he stood in the sunshine and glanced around the plaza before approaching. “It appears, Mr. Cosgrove, you have won. Miss Tanner holds my life in her hands.”

  Skip nodded, but didn’t say a word.

  “You are a formidable young man, Mr. Cosgrove. When you were in my kitchen, I was convinced you intended to kill me. Were you so tempted?”

  “To be honest, I was. It would have been easy.”

  “Ah, honesty. Truth.” Bruno looked away, then toward the sky. When he lowered his gaze, he said, “Interesting concepts, and difficult to live with. You resisted temptation, Mr. Cosgrove. You are stronger than I. Or my son. This will be the last time we see each other, so why should I not be truthful now? In those moments when you held your knife to my throat, I felt for the first time the fear I once instilled in others. I should tell you I now regret begging for my life. It would have been better had I forced you to kill me.” He sighed and looked around the plaza. “Have you any idea where I might find my bodyguards?”