Art of Deception

by Brenda Donelan

  “At least you had plenty of time to go through it,” Abby said as she took the folder and put it in the file cabinet, locking it behind her. The student assistant seemed uncomfortable and fidgety. Marlee was used to this type of behavior in students when they were worried about tests, having quarrels with roommates or romantic partners, and from too much sugar and caffeine. Professors acted in much the same way for the same types of reasons. People also acted shifty when they were being deceitful, so it was difficult to pinpoint the reason for the jumpy behavior.

  “Are you okay, Abby? You seem a bit anxious this morning.” Marlee tried the direct approach hoping the student would confide in her.

  Abby turned bright red and began to stammer, “No, um, well I just, you know, no. I’m fine.”

  “Really? Because everything about your appearance and speech would suggest otherwise.”

  Abby couldn’t make eye contact with Marlee and instead peered at the door as she spoke. “I’m just nervous, well, more like antsy for my meeting. I think I’ll have to answer some questions and I’m not sure what to say.”

  The lack of eye contact made it obvious that Abby was lying. “C’mon, Abby. I can tell you’re not telling me the truth. Spill it. What’s going on?” Marlee stood in front of Abby so the student had nowhere to look but at the professor.

  “I don’t want to tell you, because you’ll be mad at me.” Abby sounded like a five-year-old rather than a college student in her early twenties.

  “I promise I won’t be mad,” Marlee said, although chances are she would get angry if Abby had done something in poor judgment.

  “Well,” Abby took a deep breath and continued, “I didn’t tell you everything at lunch yesterday or last night. I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say anything. Now there’ll be all kinds of trouble.”

  “What is it?”

  “I think the antique urn from The Showcase is gone. The room where it was kept is sealed off so no one can view it, not even in its locked see-through display case. The security guards are all acting really weird too. I don’t know if it’s been moved somewhere else, or if someone took it. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s suspicious. I should’ve told you right away, but I didn’t want to start a big rumor and then find out there was an innocent explanation.” Abby took a deep breath and let it out, relieved to have shared her thoughts and observations with Marlee.

  “Have you heard anyone mention that it’s gone?” Marlee was trying to walk a fine line between playing dumb to elicit more information and providing some answers to assuage Abby’s fears. “When was the last time you saw the urn?”

  “No one said anything to me, it’s just that so many people are acting odd and the viewing room isn’t open for students and the public. I haven’t even seen Bridget around for a day or so, which isn’t like her. She’s always here working on The Showcase.”

  “Did you ask the secretary what’s going on? Secretaries usually have their finger on the pulse of the organization and can provide you quite a bit of information if you get on their good side.” Marlee spoke from experience. In every job she ever held, the secretarial staff knew who was about to be fired or promoted, who was having an affair, and who was engaging in illegal or unethical behavior like pilfering office supplies or watching porn on their work computers.

  “No, I don’t think she would tell me even if she does know. I’m just a student assistant, so I don’t get much respect,” Abby said.

  “Here’s a tip for you: most secretaries don’t get the credit and praise they deserve. If you go out of your way to thank them and maybe even bring in little gifts, like homemade cookies, it will go a long way in getting them to open up to you. This works across the board in work environments. Be complimentary, say thank you, and bring in food. Those three things will open a lot of doors for you in a multitude of situations. You have to be genuine about it, because people can tell when they’re getting fake praise or just being pumped for information. Okay, that’s enough career counseling for today,” Marlee said with a grin. “Let me know if you find out anything about The Showcase and what’s going on with the sealed room.”

  Abby, more at ease than when Marlee first arrived, smiled and agreed. “Thanks for talking to me. And for the tips on how to get along in an office. You remind me a lot of your cousin. Bridget always had suggestions for me too.”

  As Marlee walked out the door, she made note that Abby just referred to Bridget in the past tense. Although Abby said she hadn’t seen Bridget on campus in the past day, it was odd that she would refer to her professor and mentor as if she had retired or died.

  The sun was shining bright, and there weren’t any clouds obstructing the clear, blue sky as Marlee drove from Marymount to the MSU campus. She taught her two classes that morning without incident and was eating a protein bar during her office hours when the phone rang. She jumped to answer it, since it was on a small desk across the room from her larger desk where she did most of her grading.

  “It’s Kathleen. Bridget had a court hearing about an hour ago. I tried to reach you, but your secretary said you were in class. She was released on bond and will be staying at my house. One of the rules of her release is that she can’t have contact with anyone who’s a witness or a codefendant in the case. Your name was specifically mentioned as someone she could not contact since you may yet be charged in this matter.”

  “I’m so glad she’s out, Kathleen. Thanks for letting me know. What other rules does Bridget have to follow?” Marlee asked, unaware that she was smiling as she talked on the phone. From professional experience, she knew that by being released from jail Bridget would have to agree to comply by a set of restrictions imposed by the judge. If she failed to abide by the conditions of release, then she would be returned to jail to await trial.

  “The biggest one is that she can’t go to the Marymount campus since that’s where the so-called crime originated. She’ll be out of work for at least a few weeks. The other biggie is that she’s on home detention with electronic monitoring at my house. In fact, I have to get to my house in an hour or so because the probation office is coming over to hook Bridget up on the monitoring device. I have to be there to sign some documents and get all the rules. Why is the probation office involved in this if Bridget hasn’t been found guilty? I thought probation was only for post-conviction sentences.”

  “That’s right. Technically Bridget is on pre-trial release, not probation, but the probation office handles both here in South Dakota because of the small number of people involved. In larger cities, there are separate offices for pre-trial defendants, and those sentenced and placed on probation.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Kathleen said.

  “Bridget will go nuts if she has to stay at home all day and can’t go to campus,” Marlee mused, knowing full well that her cousin would implode after a day of solitude and lack of social stimulation.

  “I have no idea what to do for her,” Kathleen confided. “I asked if she wanted me to get some of her books or class materials from her office and she said “no” because she’ll be fired anyway. She doesn’t want to work on research or anything.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe she’ll spend some time reading or watching movies. She loves films, as we all know. If she wants any specific movies, let me know, and I’ll get them for her. I mean I’ll get the movies to you so you can give them to her since I can’t have any contact with Bridget while the trial is pending.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe she can catch up on some new movies and re-watch her old favorites.”

  “Was there any new evidence or information revealed at the hearing this morning?” Marlee hoped there was some nugget Kathleen had picked up that she could share with her.

  “No, I don’t remember anything specific. It was a really quick hearing. The prosecutor didn’t even have any objection to Bridget being released to me. His only requests were that she could not have contact with you, and that she not enter the Marymount College c
ampus. The judge agreed but stipulated Bridget needed to be on electronic monitoring to make sure she didn’t leave my house,” Kathleen reported. “Why will she be on electronic monitoring? She hasn’t committed a murder or anything really serious like that.”

  “It’s very common for defendants to be placed on home detention with electronic monitoring, especially if they’ve confessed to the crime. Besides, Bridget really doesn’t have any ties to the community other than me and Marymount and she’s restricted from having contact with either. Plus, the value of the urn is over a million dollars, which makes this a serious crime. The prosecution may suspect Bridget intends to flee the area since she doesn’t have anything holding her here in Elmwood,” Marlee reported. “Is Bridget at your house now?”

  “No, her probation officer is bringing her over to my house and then he’ll set up her monitoring equipment. Oh, and guess who her probation officer is?”

  “Oh, God. Don’t tell me it’s Vince,” Marlee groaned. The last thing she wanted to deal with was her ex-boyfriend providing court-ordered supervision for her cousin.

  “That’s right! He marched right over to me after the judge left the court room and made it very clear that you couldn’t come over to visit while Bridget was there.” Kathleen said.

  “What a jerk! Was he smiling when he said it?” Marlee was steamed. Kathleen had a PhD and was capable of understanding the judge’s ruling without Vince Chipperton talking down to her like she was a child. Vince was showing more and more negative personality traits since they had decided to take a break in May. Prior to their relationship hiatus, Marlee thought Vince was one of the nicest, most thoughtful guys she’d ever met. Apparently he was a two-headed dragon.

  “Marlee, I have to run. I’ll talk to you tonight and let you know how everything’s going with Bridget.”

  “If you find out something and can’t talk in front of her, just come over to my house. I should be here all evening,” Marlee said. As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. They were already out of her mouth and she could not take them back.

  Hector was still in town and would likely be at her house to work on the case more that night. Of course, maybe it was a good thing if they were interrupted by Kathleen. That way Marlee wouldn’t be forced to make a decision tonight on whether she wanted to get back together with Hector or end it forever. It was a decision she was not ready to make.

  “I might take you up on that,” Kathleen chirped. “It’ll be a lot easier to talk about Bridget and the case, if she’s not right there underfoot. Plus, I’m worried that the probation office will put in hidden cameras and microphones as part of Bridget’s monitoring system.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that.” Marlee chuckled under her breath as she was struck with a mental image of Vince installing a nanny cam in a teddy bear. “The judge only ordered Bridget’s presence at your home to be verified with a device hooked to her leg that sends a signal to a machine hooked to the landline phone. The probation office will stop by or call periodically. Otherwise, it won’t be much of an intrusion on your life. Vince will explain it all to you. Hopefully he’s done being a jerk to you.”

  “Whew! After I agreed to all of this I started worrying about cameras in my house. I’m glad that’s not the case. I didn’t want the probation office watching me while I shower! I’ll stop by later to update you on what happens this afternoon.”

  The rest of Marlee’s office hours were spent talking to students who stopped by for additional help with course material or had questions about an upcoming exam. She didn’t get much time alone, and what little time she did have to herself she put toward grading.

  Glancing at the wall clock, she noticed it was approaching 4:00 p.m. Her office hours would be finished then, and she planned to track down Sean Yellow Tail to ask about his company’s role in guarding the urn on loan from Conrad Thayer. She pulled the photocopied contract from her book bag and looked it over again. Nothing new stood out in the legal document drawn up between Marymount College and Yellow Tail Security.

  A quick phone call to Sean verified he was in his office, a small two-room space he rented in a strip mall near the airport. Marlee was pleased to see Sean was doing so well for himself. She took pride in the successes of her students and liked to see them doing work they enjoyed. A smile spread across her face as she entered the office and was greeted by Sean.

  “Wow, look at this set up! You’re really in the big time now with an office and your own employees.” Marlee went on about his accomplishments since leaving the police force and starting his own security firm.

  “Just learning the ropes, but enjoying it,” said the tall, gangly young man dressed in navy chinos and a plaid button-down shirt. He motioned for her to sit down as he moved behind his desk. “So what can I help you with? You need something guarded?”

  “No, I’m here because of something else.” Marlee related some of what she knew about his firm’s handling of the security for the antique urn for The Showcase on the Marymount campus.

  “I’m sure you know I can’t discuss matters that we’re handling for other clients. Yellow Tail Security values the privacy of our clients.”

  Marlee decided to hit him with some hard facts to see how he reacted. “Sean, I know the urn was stolen, and I also know that my cousin, Bridget McCabe, was arrested for the theft. I think we can cut through some of the confidentiality BS and get to the facts.” She was hoping he would still be a bit intimidated by her since she was his professor just a few years earlier.

  Sean held her gaze and thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I can talk about it a bit since you already seem to know so much. The urn was stolen between 5:00 p.m. on Sunday and 9:00 a.m. on Monday. Our security team only guarded it during the day hours when the viewing room was open to the public. At 5:00 p.m. each day, the viewing room was locked and the urn was moved into a locked display case with shatter-proof glass. No one could get into the room without a key. The only people with keys to the display case were me, your cousin, and Conrad Thayer, who’s the owner. I also had keys to the Amos building and the viewing room, as did your cousin.”

  “Do you believe Bridget stole the urn?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so, but she’s the only logical suspect, since the owner doesn’t have keys to the building or the viewing room, and I know I didn’t do it,” Sean said.

  “Somebody could’ve gotten access to either your or Bridget’s keys and made themselves a copy or just took the key and used it,” Marlee said.

  “I can’t say what did or didn’t happen to Bridget’s keys, but I have mine on me at all times. No one has access to any of my keys.” Sean was adamant in his declaration.

  “Okay,” Marlee backed off the stolen key theory. “Let’s say Bridget actually did steal the urn. What’s her motivation? She would have to know she’d be a suspect. And there’s no way she could sell it anywhere around South Dakota without being caught. She probably couldn’t sell it anywhere in the Midwest, maybe the whole country.”

  “Maybe she was hired by another collector to steal it and turn it over. That happens all the time in the art world.” Sean stated.

  “Bridget really isn’t motivated by money. She’s not a materialistic person, so I don’t think any amount of money would tempt her to commit a felony and sacrifice her career.”

  “She might have done it to keep someone else out of trouble, I suppose. Or been the victim of a blackmail scheme,” Sean suggested.

  “How many employees do you have, Sean?”

  “Two people work for me regularly, and I have another guy I call in when somebody’s sick, or I need extra hands on deck. Before you even bring it up, no, none of them could have stolen the urn. They didn’t have keys to the viewing room or the display case. I personally opened up the viewing room each morning at 9:00 a.m. and moved the urn from the secure display case to the viewing area. Both of my agents were here from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. when I would come back and lock up the urn and
lock the viewing room,” Sean stated.

  “Who are your employees?”

  “I spent a lot of time checking them out. They have clean records, a good work history, and came highly recommended. You’re wasting your time if you think one of them did it,” Sean bristled.

  “Sean, you know how this works. I need to cover all the bases. Just tell me their names and give me their contact information. If you don’t tell me, you know I’ll just find out another way.”

  “Fine. Percy Blake has worked with me since I started this business six months ago. He’s ex-military, and he had seven years in with the Elmwood Police Department. Sandy Link started two months ago. She’s retired from the FBI. My on-call agent is Derek Geppert, and I’ve known him personally for years. We’ve been friends since high school. He works part time at Menards, but likes to do security with me from time to time.” Sean relayed.

  “Which of the three do you think would be most likely to steal the urn?” Marlee knew she was pushing her luck with the questions, but had to see if Sean would admit to any kind of weak spot in his crew.

  “I’d suspect myself before I’d suspect any of them,” Sean said.

  Marlee raised her eyebrows at this strange response.

  “No! I’m not saying I did it. I’m saying I didn’t do it, and I’m positive none of them did either.” Sean rose to his feet, a signal that he was ending their meeting.

  “One other thing, Sean. How did you get this contract? No offense, but you’re just getting started, and you don’t have many employees. Most people would go for a larger, more experienced firm to guard their priceless art.”

  “I know Conrad Thayer’s niece, and she vouched for me. They remembered me coming over to their house when I was younger. They’re big basketball fans and would come to all the home games when I played in high school and college,” Sean said, his tone becoming less defensive. “Look, Dr. McCabe, my company is legit, and I have no intention of cutting corners or getting involved in something illegal. If I suspected any of my employees of the theft, I’d go to the cops and turn them in myself.”