Art of Deception

by Brenda Donelan

  “What? Renee didn’t even try to get Bridget out of jail?” Marlee was gobsmacked. The very least an attorney should do is try to get their client out on bond pending the outcome of the case. The only reason not to do so was if the client might get into more trouble if they were released. Marlee couldn’t fathom what type of trouble Bridget would get into if she were to be set free on bond pending future hearings.

  “Renee is trying to find a third-party custodian for Bridget. You know, someone reliable that will make sure she follows the rules the court sets and ensures that Bridget returns for future court appearances,” Denny related.

  “I can do that. I used to be a probation officer, so there’s no one more reliable than me.”

  “Except that you may still be charged in this matter and the judge won’t allow one codefendant to be the third-party custodian for the other one.”

  “Then who do you think Renee will find? Bridget hasn’t lived here that long and doesn’t know many people. I’m her only relative in town.” Marlee was pissed that she wouldn’t be considered a suitable custodian for Bridget. Whoever trumped up these charges against Bridget and implicated Marlee had set the wheels in motion for all types of confusion.

  Denny sighed. “Not sure who she’ll find. It’s a big commitment. Not only will Bridget need to move into the custodian’s home, but the custodian can be held accountable if Bridget flees the area or engages in any illegal or prohibited conduct. It’s a lot of responsibility and most people wouldn’t want to take on something like that unless it’s a close friend or a relative.”

  Gaining no new information from Denny, Marlee ended her call and left campus. On her drive over to Scooter’s, she thought about possible custodians for Bridget. Maybe one of her friends from the Supper Club would do it. Kathleen, Gwen, Shelly, and Diane were all responsible people and were willing to help out others in times of distress. The only thing holding Marlee back from asking one of them for this huge favor was that she needed to know if Bridget really confessed to stealing the urn. If Bridget committed a felony, then how could Marlee put her friends at risk by asking them to take Bridget into one of their homes? It was bad enough that her cousin was in legal trouble. Marlee had no intention of dragging her best friends into this mess.

  Scooter’s was a locally owned coffee shop located midway between Marymount College and Midwestern State University. It catered primarily to the college, high school, and young adult crowd that needed a regular caffeine fix. The coffee shop was ultra-modern with gray furniture, stainless steel fixtures, and exposed duct work. Marlee hated this style of décor because it was so depressing. The exposed duct work and open-beamed ceiling made her feel like she was having a cup of coffee in a construction zone. She knew it was popular with her students, so she chose it thinking Abby would be more likely to meet her at an establishment such as this rather than a family dining restaurant that primarily catered to the senior citizens in town.

  Finding herself a table near a window, Marlee sat down and threw her book bag beside her. She looked around and only found two females matching Abby’s description. They were sitting together talking animatedly about a television show, so she ruled them out immediately. Marlee walked to the counter and ordered Moroccan mint tea. She sipped on the drink as she waited for Abby, hoping the student would eventually show up.

  At 1:15, Abby entered Scooter’s. She was indeed short, had dark blond hair, and was Caucasian, just as she had described. What she failed to mention was that she was using crutches. She met Marlee’s gaze and offered up a quick smile. Making her way over to the table, Abby dropped one of her crutches.

  “Whoa,” Abby said. “Still trying to figure out how to use these things.”

  Marlee reached down and picked up the crutch, handing it to the student. “Are you Abby?”

  “Sure am. And you must be the person I’m meeting for lunch.” Abby slid into one of the chairs at Marlee’s table and made herself comfortable.

  “I’m Marlee McCabe, Bridget’s cousin.” Marlee thought she would say as little as possible about Bridget to see what Abby knew.

  “Oh, yes. She mentioned you a few times. I thought I recognized your name when we talked on the phone earlier.”

  “I understand you’re her assistant. What do you help her with?” Marlee asked. She drew the counter attendant’s attention, who came over with two menus.

  After Abby placed her order for a tall non-fat cappuccino, she began to speak. “Since Bridget is a visiting professor, I’ve been assigned to help her with grading and special projects, like The Showcase. It features art, music, and film from the 1920s. She probably told you all about The Showcase, right?”

  “Yes, she did. I had a couple questions about it. Was there a main piece of artwork or an antique that was at the center of The Showcase? You know, something that was extremely valuable, either monetarily or for some other reason?”

  “Yes! The antique urn is the centerpiece of the show and we were very lucky to obtain it on a loan from a private individual. We have other pieces loaned to us from museums across the country, but the urn is the featured piece. It’s so valuable and treasured that we were required to hire a private security firm to watch over it while it was at Marymount.”

  “Really?” Marlee feigned surprise to gather more information from Abby, who now had the gift of gab thanks to her caffeinated beverage. “Who was in charge of hiring the private security company?”

  “Bridget had to finalize the details, but someone else at Marymount was in charge of the actual selection of the security company. I didn’t get involved in that part of The Showcase.”

  The server brought their order to the table. Vegetable beef soup for Marlee and a chicken salad sandwich and potato chips for Abby. As they dug into their meals, Marlee continued questioning Abby, who to her surprise, freely offered up information without wondering why Marlee wanted to know. “Did you meet with the security people at all?”

  “I never had an actual meeting with them, but I saw them around. Two always had to be guarding the urn at all times during the day. At night it was kept in a locked, see-through container. It was made of fiber glass or something that’s unbreakable. There’s no way possible that somebody could steal the urn. No way at all.”

  “Do you know any of the security people?” Marlee continued as she slurped up the last of her soup. Abby hadn’t yet heard of the stolen urn, nor of her professor’s arrest for the crime. That meant that the police had not yet disclosed the theft.

  “Sean Yellow Tail is the guy who runs the company. I heard he was a police officer once. He came by once or twice, but he had people working for him that did all the security,” Abby replied.

  “Why do you think Sean’s company was hired since there are other security firms in the area with much more experience? Sean’s only been doing private security for a short time.” Marlee pressed on. She knew Sean was a stand-up guy, but thought it was strange that a relative newbie to the security field would be hired to protect invaluable pieces of art and antiques.

  “No clue. I didn’t have anything to do with that. I knew we would need a security firm, and the next thing I know, Sean’s company is hired and Bridget is filling out paperwork for his contract.”

  “Did you see the contract?”

  “It’s in the file along with other documents for The Showcase. I’ve glanced at it along with all the other papers, but I never read it from top to bottom.” Abby furrowed her brow. “Why do you have all these questions about The Showcase? Can’t you just ask your cousin?”

  Marlee took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. She needed to tell Abby something that would pacify her, yet keep her volunteering information since Marlee had few people to turn to for information about The Showcase. “Abby, I’m trying to find out more about The Showcase to see if there’s some way I can use it in my criminal justice classes. I’d like to support this event and thought if I could use a tie-in with private security that I could justify having
my students attend.” Sometimes Marlee astounded even herself with her ability to pull a story out of thin air.

  “Oh. Well, yeah. I guess you would need a reason for criminal justice students to come to an art, music, and film display, since it’s sort of out of their area of study.” Abby seemed satisfied with Marlee’s story and the suspicion cleared from her face.

  “I didn’t want to ask Bridget about all of this because, as you know, she has so many details to finish up on this project. I didn’t want to burden her with my questions. She just doesn’t have time to deal with anything extra. I’m so grateful to you for taking the time to meet with me and answer these questions.”

  “You’re welcome. Anything I can do to lighten the load for Bridget. She’s my favorite professor, and I’m so happy to be working for her on this project.” Abby’s eyes lit up as she talked more about The Showcase and her good fortune to be so closely involved with it.

  “You know, I’d really like to see the contract Bridget drew up for Sean’s security company. Could you get a copy of it? I won’t show it to anyone else.” Marlee held her breath. She hoped the rapport she established with Abby was such that the student would hand over a copy of the security document.

  Abby’s suspicion was back again. “I’m sure I can’t do that. I mean, there are rules, and I could get in big trouble if I gave out copies of important papers.”

  Marlee sighed with disappointment. She knew it was a gamble, but still hoped that Abby would hand over the security paperwork. The professor looked down at her empty soup bowl, contemplating her next move.

  “But, you could stop by and take a look at the security contract. I mean, that would probably be okay,” Abby said, a people-pleaser who liked to stay in the good graces of others.

  “Abby, that would be wonderful!” Marlee was ecstatic over Abby’s suggestion. “When could I come by? I’d like it to be after regular work hours if possible, since I have to be at MSU until after 5:00 most nights. Marlee lied. She was almost always off the MSU campus by 3:00 every afternoon unless she had a night class. Marlee didn’t want to risk bumping into the Marymount College officials or the security guards.

  “Um, I have class later this afternoon and am finished around 7:00. We could meet then. The contract is in my office with the other paperwork on The Showcase,” Abby reported. The two made arrangements to meet later in the day so Marlee could view the security contract. Maybe it held some clues as to who stole the urn and why.

  Again, Marlee thanked Abby for her information on The Showcase as the student rose and grabbed her crutches. “By the way, what happened to your foot?”

  “Doctor says it’s not broken. Just a sprain. Should be better in a week or two,” Abby replied with a weak smile.

  Abby hobbled out of the coffee shop as Marlee went to the counter to pay their bill. Shoving the receipt in her book bag as she walked out the door, Marlee was grabbed by the back of the arm.

  My most embarrassing moment used to be when I walked around in the college library with a big rip in the seat of my pants. I miss those days.

  Chapter 6

  “I need to talk to you,” said a gruff male voice as Marlee spun around. She launched into defense mode by jerking free of the hand wrapped around her arm, dropping her book bag to the cement, placing her hands in fighting position in front of her face, and crouching as if preparing for an attack.

  When Marlee caught sight of the man in front of her, she was at first relieved then angry. “What the hell, Hector!” she shouted at the out-of-town detective she had dated a few months ago. She and Hector Ramos became acquainted when he was assigned to investigate the death of one of her students on a class trip.

  Hector doubled over laughing at Marlee’s fighting stance, which only intensified her anger with him. “Jeez, settle down. I’m not going to attack you. I just wanted to talk.”

  “You should know better than to grab someone from the back. Of course I thought I was getting attacked. I had no idea who you were!” Grabbing her book bag from the ground, the professor returned to an upright position.

  “I apologize. I thought you would recognize my voice. I guess if you returned my calls, you would remember what I sound like.” Hector had a bite to his tone, miffed that Marlee had not yet made a decision on her relationship with him. “I suppose you’re too busy with Vince.”

  Vince Chipperton was a probation officer in Elmwood, a man Marlee had been interested in for years. They began dating a year earlier, but a snag in their relationship led Marlee to take up with Hector. At this point, Marlee wasn’t sure if she had two boyfriends or if she had none. Both men had made it evident that they were interested in her, but she couldn’t make the final call on who she wanted to date. Thus, she was ignoring both of them, which seemed like a perfectly sensible solution.

  “No, I’m not spending time with Vince. I haven’t made any decisions. I told you that,” Marlee snapped. She didn’t like being put on the spot or rushed into a decision. She would make up her mind in her own time.

  “Fine. No pressure.” Hector rolled his eyes. “Look, I was in Elmwood on an investigation and stopped into the police department. I heard about your cousin, Bridget, being arrested. What’s going on?”

  “You probably know more than I do if you got your information from the police station. I’m really in the dark on the whole thing,” Marlee said as she launched into the tale of the search warrant for her house, Bridget’s arrest, and the hiring of attorneys for both of them. “My lawyer says I’ll be questioned for sure, maybe even arrested as a co-conspirator. I don’t know anything about the theft, and I don’t think Bridget is involved either. I can’t believe any of this is happening!”

  “Why did you get a lawyer? It makes you look guilty of something,” Hector said matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t care. I’ve seen plenty of innocent people get themselves into hot water because they said too much to the police, and it was taken out of context or misconstrued. Getting a lawyer doesn’t mean I have something to hide. It just means I’m being smart about protecting my rights.”

  “As a detective, I can tell you that any time someone gets a lawyer I automatically suspect they have something to hide. They may not be guilty of the crime at hand, but they’re up to something illegal. Most cops think that way, so don’t be surprised if you get treated like a criminal when they question you.” Hector stated in his cool, calm manner. He shifted his stance to now lean against the outer wall of the coffee shop.

  “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. I’m not guilty of anything, and I don’t want to say anything to damage Bridget’s case.”

  “She confessed, from what I heard. Most people don’t confess to something they didn’t do.” Hector was becoming more annoying by the minute. Marlee hated when he used only the logic side of his brain and didn’t have empathy or even common sense.

  “Puh-leez, Bridget is as much a thief as I am an astronaut. There’s no way in hell she stole an urn from The Showcase at Marymount College. And another thing Hector,” Marlee moved closer to the detective and shook her finger in his face, “if Bridget…”

  “Isn’t this cozy?” snarled a familiar voice from behind Marlee. She spun around to see Vince Chipperton, her other ex-boyfriend.

  Marlee blushed. She was standing with the two men she had been involved with and had yet to make a decision about her future with them. If given the opportunity, she would have taken a punch to the gut rather than be in this situation.

  “Hi, Vince. Hector and I just bumped into each other a few minutes ago and were talking about a case.” Marlee conveniently left out some details since she didn’t see how they pertained to Vince. Plus, she was getting tired of going over the same story about Bridget’s arrest. Since Vince was a probation officer, he was inclined toward the law enforcement view of the world and would likely be on Hector’s side when it came to her attorney representation.

  “I don’t want to interrupt the happy couple.” Vince glar
ed at Marlee then at Hector. As he opened the door to the coffee shop, he turned and said, “I knew you’d choose him. I knew it all along, but you could have had the courtesy to tell me.” Vince’s tough demeanor had now turned sorrowful as he lowered his head and entered Scooter’s.

  “Vince, wait. I…” Marlee called out, but the door had already closed and Vince was inside the coffee shop. She wanted to talk with Vince and tell him she hadn’t chosen Hector, but she didn’t want to do it in front of a crowd at the coffee shop. Plus, she still had a few things she wanted to say to Hector.

  “Oh, to be worshipped by so many men.” Hector slipped into a southern drawl and fanned his face with his hand as if he were going to faint.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Marlee chastised. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. I didn’t know you were going to be here either. All I was doing was minding my own business, and I get accosted by you, and then Vince shows up. I can’t win no matter what I do!”

  “Right. Now who’s being dramatic?” Hector smirked as he looked at Marlee with his caramel brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses.

  “Okay, back to Bridget. Do you think she’ll actually stand trial for this?” Marlee needed a cop’s perspective and Hector, although he could be maddening, was usually honest and straightforward.

  “It doesn’t look good for her. The evidence is pretty damning from what I heard. The antique urn was found in your house in the room where she was staying, a confidential informant said they saw Bridget take it into your house, and then there’s the confession. All in all, the case is sewn up. I’ve seen prosecutors get convictions with a lot less evidence than this.”

  “What do you think I should do?” Marlee asked, curious as to what a law enforcement officer who was used to interrogating suspects would suggest.

  “I think you should stay out of it and let the police handle it. Anything you do could be seen as obstruction of justice or interference with an ongoing investigation. You don’t want to call any more negative attention to yourself.”