Art of Deception

by Brenda Donelan

  “Other than talking to Derek Geppert, who else do you want to interrogate today?” Hector asked with a playful grin.

  “I want to talk to Sean again, and I want you to go with me. I’d like to hear your impression of him since you think I’m being naïve. Then we have drinks with Conrad Thayer this evening. Now don’t get mad, but there’s something else we need to do, but I can’t do it myself.” Marlee hesitated, waiting for Hector’s reaction.

  “You need me to do something for you?” Hector looked at Marlee with a suspicious yet curious glance.

  “Yes, I need you to go to Kathleen’s tonight and talk to Bridget about her contact with the art collectors that offered to pay her to steal the urn. As you know, the judge has ordered Bridget not to have any contact with me.” Marlee thought she used her sweetest voice and even threw in some eye batting.

  “Didn’t you have enough time to talk to her last night?” Hector stopped eating and stared at Marlee without blinking.

  “Uh, what do you mean?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant.

  “You went to talk to Bridget last night when I was asleep on the couch. I heard you leave, and I heard you come back. That’s the only place I could think of that you would go to without me.”

  “Crap! You knew, and you didn’t tell me? And you pretended to be asleep? How can I ever trust you?” Marlee wailed.

  “You’re the one who snuck out of the house and didn’t say anything to me. Seems like the trust issue works both ways.” Instead of being irritated, Hector was amused. He seemed to like that Marlee did her own thing without consulting him or asking for advice.

  Marlee smiled too. “I guess we’re both a couple of liars and sneaks.”

  “We make a great team,” Hector said with a wink as he raised his little teacup in a salute.

  The last thing Marlee wanted to talk about right now was their relationship, so she quickly diverted the conversation to their upcoming meeting at Thayer’s home tonight. “Do you have your questions prepared for our drink meeting tonight?”

  “I’m still kicking a couple things around in my mind, but mostly I want to know about the insurance and what type of settlement he would have received if the urn had not been retrieved by the police. I also want to know more about his other antiques and art, and how he keeps them safe.” Hector said, and he reached over to Marlee’s plate and speared a shrimp with his fork.

  “I really want a tour of the house. If he mentions any other pieces of art, I’ll ask to see them, and I want you to act really interested too. Maybe that will be enough urging to get him to show us around.” Rumors were plentiful when it came to the subject of Conrad Thayer. Marlee found him interesting because of his eccentric ways, his reclusive nature, and the huge house. She could hardly believe she and Hector would be meeting him in just a few hours.

  “Yeah, I’ll play along. I wouldn’t mind seeing the house either. What do you think is the strangest thing we will see there? I’m betting he has some type of medieval torture devices in his basement. Or a stuffed grizzly bear mounted on his hind legs.” Hector was getting into the guessing game.

  “I hope we get to see the butler again, and I want to find out if he has other staff living there. I bet he has fifty turtles in cardboard boxes in the attic or two hundred bats in cages all over the house.” Marlee could have played this game all day, and Hector seemed equally enthusiastic.

  They bantered back and forth about the possible oddities hidden or on display at Thayer’s house until the bill and fortune cookies arrived. Marlee grabbed the bill and held up the tray with the fortune cookies for Hector to choose. “Just give me one,” he said, not paying attention.

  “No, that’s not how it works. You have to choose the fortune cookie yourself or else it’s not valid,” Marlee insisted.

  “What if I want to choose one that’s in the big jar up by the cash register? Does that meet with your criteria?”

  “You have to choose among the ones brought to the table. Either you choose for yourself, or I’ll choose one for myself. Haven’t you ever eaten at a Chinese restaurant before? Don’t you know the fortune cookie rules?”

  With an elaborate sigh, Hector selected the fortune cookie next to him and unwrapped it. Marlee grabbed the remaining cookie and peeled off the cellophane wrap. “So what does yours say?” Marlee asked looking across the table.

  “I’m not telling,” Hector said as he folded the fortune and placed it in his pocket.

  “You have to read it. That’s a rule!” Marlee insisted.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, everyone reads their fortune after the meal. That’s how it’s done,” Marlee said, becoming irritated that Hector was not complying with fortune cookie etiquette.

  “You read yours,” Hector said.

  “If you’re not reading yours out loud, then I’m not either,” Marlee said with a huff as she put her fortune in her pocket and walked to the cashier to pay the bill.

  Hector followed her, and they left the dining establishment and drove to Derek Geppert’s home, in the northern part of town. The area was run down with houses in need of paint and repairs. Each yard contained a broken-down piece of household equipment, a mangy dog on a chain, and a stack of tires. Geppert’s home was no exception.

  They walked up the rickety steps to the front door and knocked, waiting for someone to answer the door. Sounds came from inside, so they knew someone was home. After several rounds of knocking, a man in his late twenties answered the door. He was of medium build, had sandy hair, walked with a noticeable limp, and leaned on a cane.

  “Sure, I’ll talk to you. Come in,” Derek Geppert said after they identified themselves and the nature of their visit. He showed them to the living room and they all sat down. The air was heavy with the scent of marijuana, cigarettes, and fried food. The interior of the home was as ramshackle as the outside, with an orange print couch that sagged in the middle, matted carpet with cigarette burns, and peeling wall paper.

  “Derek, we know you were one of the employees from Yellow Tail Security that was guarding the urn which was taken a few days ago. I’m sure Sean already called you and said I would be stopping by.” Marlee eased into the conversation by making a couple statements to which he could confirm. No point getting off on the wrong foot in an interview if you could help it. One of the basic tenets of interviewing is to build rapport with the subject. A way to do that is to state some irrefutable facts so that the interviewer and the subject are in agreement from the beginning.

  “Sean called yesterday. I thought you might swing by then.”

  “You and Sean have been friends since high school. Is that right?” Hector asked.

  “Yeah, me and Yellow Tail go way back. We were on the basketball team in high school. He was really good. I wasn’t all that good, but Sean would come over and help me practice. His family moved down the block from me and my mom when I was just starting high school. Can’t believe our ten-year high school reunion is coming up next summer. Damn, I’m getting old.” Derek’s view of old was quite different than the ideas held by Marlee and Hector if the expressions on their faces were any indicator.

  “So how many days were you at Marymount guarding the antique urn?” Hector inquired.

  “Just one day. I fill in when he needs an extra person, but it’s not a regular gig for me,” Derek said.

  “Where else do you work?” Marlee asked, hoping to find out a bit more about his employment history since Percy Blake’s and Sean’s accounts differed from each other.

  “I work mainly from home. I do some consulting and Internet-based work,” Derek said.

  “Consulting on what?” Marlee continued.

  “Oh, on several things,” Derek answered evasively. “You know what they say, Jack of All Trades Master of None.”

  “I heard you were on disability due to an injury.” Marlee let that statement hang in the air for a bit while Geppert decided how to answer.

  “Who told you that?”
he asked, his lips pulled tight and his eyes squinting.

  “Is it true?” Marlee asked without revealing her source. If Derek could be evasive then she could as well.

  “I guess so. I was injured awhile back and it prevents me from doing anything strenuous like lifting or running,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his dilapidated reclining chair.

  “But it doesn’t bother you to be on your feet for hours and hours as a security guard?” Marlee continued prying, wanting to find out more about Derek’s alleged disability.

  “No, standing is fine. It’s lifting and running. Why all the questions about my health? Are you investigators from the Disability Office?” Derek asked.

  “No, we’re not with Disability. Why? What do you have to hide from them?” Hector asked.

  “Nothing! I just thought since you were asking all these questions…” his sentence trailed off.

  “Does Sean know about your disability? He told me you work part time at Menards,” Marlee said.

  Derek scooted up in his chair and pointed his finger at Marlee and Hector. “You keep your mouth shut around Sean, understand?” With that, he rose to his feet and walked to the door without the assistance of his cane. He opened the door and motioned for them to leave.

  On their way out the door Marlee said over her shoulder, “Looks like that limp healed itself.” Her comment was received with a slamming of the door.

  Back at Marlee’s house, the pair assessed their interview with Derek Geppert. “What a nut job,” Marlee said. “One minute he’s disabled, then the next minute he’s not limping or using his cane.”

  “And he got really defensive when you asked if Sean knew about his disability. Looks to me like he’s telling Sean he works somewhere part time, meanwhile he’s collecting disability payments. I wonder if he’s doing any other outside work besides security with Sean.” Hector asked.

  “This guy is definitely hiding something. Either he really is disabled and is hiding it from Sean or he is in perfect health and is collecting payments for a disability he doesn’t have,” Marlee said.

  “If he’s injured, it must come and go since he was limping and using his cane when we got there but then had no problem marching us out of the house when the questions got too tough for him,” Hector said. “And did you smell pot in the house?”

  Marlee nodded. “Sean said he vetted all of his employees before he hired them. Maybe he wasn’t as thorough as he thought. Or maybe he just gave his friend a pass and just took Derek’s word that he was working at Menards.”

  “Let’s go talk to Sean now and see what he has to say about all of this,” Hector suggested.

  A short time later they were at Yellow Tail Security, looking through a locked glass door. The office was dark, and no one appeared to be on site. From her conversations with Sandy and Percy yesterday, she knew they were both without work until Sean found them a job to make up for no longer guarding the urn.

  “Maybe Sean’s at home. Or working for another client.” Marlee pulled her phone from her pocket and called Sean’s number. The call went straight to voice mail and she left a brief message asking Sean to return her call as soon as possible.

  “So much for that idea. I hope we can catch up with him later today,” Hector said.

  They drove back to Marlee’s house and Hector let her off at the curb. “I’m going to get a haircut and go back to the Sheriff’s Office to find out if there’s any new gossip about the urn. Then I’ll stop by Kathleen’s house to visit with Bridget.”

  Marlee was ecstatic that Hector was going to visit her cousin since she was prohibited from doing so. She didn’t want to do anything to change his mind, so she didn’t say a word, but just smiled and nodded before going inside. She decided to utilize her time alone by going over the box of papers she’d taken from Bridget’s home. As she was sifting through them, she found a few letters and advertisements which had sunk to the bottom of the box. It was then that Marlee remembered grabbing Bridget’s mail from her table and throwing it in the box before she left.

  Even though opening another person’s mail was a federal felony, Marlee decided to chance it. She discarded the ads and fliers and set aside two unopened letters. The return address was from a bank in the town where she was living in Minnesota. Bridget had been there for five years, had a successful academic career, and even bought herself a house two years ago. While she was in Elmwood teaching for the year, she rented her house to a new professor and her family. The letter read, in part, that Bridget’s home was in foreclosure due to nonpayment of her mortgage. If payment and arrearages were not received immediately, Bridget would lose her house to the bank.

  She almost didn’t open the second letter, but decided to at the last second. What was in the second letter was more shocking than the first. The second letter had no return address. Bridget’s name and address were handwritten in blue pen. Marlee tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of white printer paper with block printing. It read: YOUR FAMILY OR THE URN? YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!

  Does anyone even care about me? I don’t think so.

  Chapter 15

  How did Bridget get herself into this mess? Marlee thought as she looked at the foreclosure notice. Bridget was single, without children, and didn’t have any huge debts other than her home and car loans, plus student loans from her multiple years of higher education. How she could have gotten into this much financial trouble was beyond comprehension. Marlee reflected on her cousin’s standard of living and couldn’t think of any extravagant purchases or expensive hobbies. Bridget’s Elmwood apartment was modest and her car was several years old. Her house in Minnesota was nice but nothing fancy. Bridget’s lifestyle seemed to be well within her earnings as a college professor.

  The cornerstone of Marlee’s argument as to why Bridget would be motivated to steal the urn had just collapsed before her eyes. Saving her house and keeping herself out of financial ruin was more than enough incentive for anyone to consider theft. But why didn’t Bridget come to me? I would have helped her as much as I could, Marlee thought. I wouldn’t be able to get her out of debt, but I could’ve kept her out of immediate foreclosure.

  Marlee turned again to the handwritten letter with no return address. Since it wasn’t signed, there was no way to identify who authored it. It was addressed to Bridget, so she was the intended recipient. That ruled out the mail carrier placing the letter in Bridget’s mail box by mistake. Glancing at the legal-sized white envelope again, Marlee noticed something unusual. It wasn’t postmarked. There was no stamp on it either. This letter never went through the postal system. Bridget may or may not know who sent it to her. It could have been slid under her door at her apartment or at work. It could have been placed in her campus mail box in the department secretary’s office. Or the letter could have been handed to Bridget. There could be other scenarios too, but Marlee couldn’t think beyond the obvious methods at that point.

  She jumped as the land line phone rang. “Marlee, it’s Hector. My department just called, and I have to leave for Chamberlain right now. There’s been a death, and I need to investigate. I won’t be able to go to Thayer’s house with you tonight, but I don’t want you going alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. I was planning on talking to him on my own anyway before you got involved in this whole thing. Drive safe, and I’ll talk to you later,” Marlee said, disappointed that Hector had to leave so soon, but also a bit relieved since this would take the pressure off her making a decision between Hector and Vince.

  “I found someone else willing to go with you,” Hector said and paused.

  “Okay, who is it?” Marlee was prepared for the detective to launch into one of his jokes.

  “I was over at Kathleen’s and just started talking to Bridget when your old boyfriend showed up. That was when I got the call from my department back home. I told Vince what you’d been up to, and he said he’d go along with you tonight.”

  “What!” Marlee s
hrieked. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset that her two love interests were conspiring behind her back, or that Vince now knew she was actively looking into Bridget’s theft charge.

  “It’s fine. Vince told me that he doesn’t think Bridget is guilty either but that he has to do his job and make sure you two don’t have any contact. He didn’t seem too upset that I was there talking to her. Of course he volunteered to help you once he knew I had to leave town.” There was more than a touch of bitterness in Hector’s voice. He was relieved Marlee would not be talking to the eccentric owner of the antique urn alone, yet he would rather almost anyone other than Vince Chipperton be Marlee’s companion for the evening.

  “It sounds like you and Vince are best friends now. What else have you two decided?” Marlee sniped. She didn’t appreciate anyone in her life interfering or making arrangements to protect her.

  “Look, I don’t like this either. I don’t want Vince hanging around at all, but I’d rather have him go with you to Thayer’s house tonight than you go alone. I’m not happy about it. I’ll call you tonight to make sure it went okay.” Hector was stern, in a no-nonsense mood.

  “You’re going to call to make sure Vince isn’t hanging around my house,” Marlee said pointedly.

  “That too. I don’t trust that guy. Gotta go. I’m getting another call. Bye.” Hector ended the call as abruptly as he’d started it. Marlee hadn’t even had time to tell him about the two letters of Bridget’s that she’d opened.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent looking through papers she’d grabbed from Bridget’s apartment. Most of it had to do with the details of preserving works of art, something Marlee knew nothing about and hoped she never had to learn. Even though the process was tedious, the hours flew by and before she knew it, it was time to get ready for drinks at the Thayer house.

  Marlee took another shower and dressed in a long black skirt, a purple sweater with beaded detailing on the front, and black boots. She finished the look with a gray-fringed scarf, silver hoop earrings, and a bold silver and amber ring. She took a little more care in her appearance than usual, mostly because she didn’t know what to expect. She wasn’t used to rubbing elbows with people who owned art collections. After applying mascara, eye liner, eye shadow, and lipstick, the professor decided that was enough beautification.