“Well, I don’t have any proof, but when Bridget first told me about the threats I thought it might be a private collector or somebody from one of the museums who has items on loan in The Showcase.”
“But why would someone from a museum try to steal the urn? They wouldn’t be able to display it in their museum; everyone in the art world would know this particular antique urn was stolen from a private collection while on loan. It doesn’t make sense,” Marlee said.
“I didn’t mean they would try to display it at their museum. I just thought they either wanted it for their own private collection or they would try to sell it on the black market.”
“Why would somebody try to obtain stolen art for their personal collection? They wouldn’t be able to show it to anyone, or else word would get out and they’d be arrested for theft or receiving stolen property.” Marlee had little interest in the art world and even less understanding of it.
“Just having it in their personal collection would be a huge ego boost, even if they couldn’t show it to anyone,” Abby said.
“Really? Someone would be willing to go to all the trouble of stealing a piece of art even though they couldn’t sell it or show it to anyone? All just to bolster their ego?”
“Yes. More than a few private collectors have items they can’t show because they came by them illegally. It might be a piece of work stolen hundreds of years ago that’s been passed down in a family. Or a thief may have used a stolen work as collateral on a loan and then couldn’t pay it back so the grantor of the loan now owns stolen art,” Abby said. “Other ways people obtain art illegally is by looting archeological sites and churches as well as stealing from museums and other private collectors.”
“Did you learn this in your classes?” Marlee knew art theft was a huge racket, and that the FBI established an Art Theft Program in 2004. Maybe art theft is something I should look at including in my Advanced Criminology class next year, she thought.
“We talked about it in one of my classes, along with the motivations for stealing art.”
“Besides greed and an ego boost, why would someone steal art?” Marlee asked.
“Knowing you have something that no one else does can be a huge rush, I suppose. And there are people who are just art lovers. They don’t care about the actual dollar worth of the items, they just want to possess them because of their beauty or historical significance. Some collectors can be quite competitive in their quest for art.”
“And this happens with paintings and things like urns?” Marlee asked.
“Books, dishes, carvings, and anything else that people collect. There are more people wanting antiques than there are items to collect. That’s why art forgery is a multi-billion-dollar business.” Abby stated. She may be a liar, but the girl knew quite a bit about art. Of course it didn’t take much to best Marlee in this area.
“Did you have anyone specific in mind that might be threatening Bridget?”
Abby paused and looked downward again. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I thought it could be my uncle.”
Marlee jumped to her feet. In her mind, she was already contacting the FBI to track down Abby’s art thief uncle from wherever he might be in the world. “Your uncle? Who’s your uncle?”
“Conrad Thayer.”
I’m no criminal mastermind, just a chump needed to do the dirty work. I hope the judge takes that into consideration.
Chapter 20
“Conrad Thayer! The Conrad Thayer that lives here in Elmwood?” Marlee shrieked.
“Yes, that Conrad Thayer. Now before you get mad at me…”
Marlee interrupted Abby’s explanation. “What the hell, Abby! Why didn’t you tell me Thayer was your uncle? You’ve been acting like you didn’t know the person who owned the urn. Meanwhile, it belongs to your family.”
“It’s not mine. Just Uncle Conrad’s,” Abby corrected.
“Did Bridget know you were Thayer’s niece?” Marlee asked, already questioning the answer Abby would provide.
“No. I never told her. I never told anyone because I didn’t want special treatment. I wanted to get this position helping Bridget on my own, not because of my family connections.”
“I honestly have no idea what to believe any more, Abby. You’ve lied to me and to Bridget about so many things. There’s no way I can trust you. How do I know you and your uncle weren’t working together to coerce Bridget into stealing the urn so he could collect the insurance money while having the antique remain in his collection?” Marlee was ready to wring Abby’s neck. Clearly the coed was deceitful enough to have pulled off this whole scheme, with or without the help of Conrad Thayer.
“No! I’m not involved in it at all. At first I didn’t know who was threatening Bridget. After I found out the urn was stolen, and Bridget was in jail, I started to think Uncle Conrad might be involved. I didn’t have any proof, just a suspicion.” Abby shrugged, as if suspecting one’s uncle of threats and art theft was an everyday occurrence.
“Did you talk to him about your suspicions?” Marlee asked.
“No, I didn’t say anything to him.”
“Thayer must have known you were working with Bridget on The Showcase and had access to information about it as well as the art itself.”
“He knew, but he never asked me to do anything illegal. He just wanted to know when The Showcase was taking place, who was in charge, and all that kind of stuff. I told him, but it was all public information that anyone could get, so I didn’t think it was wrong,” Abby said, giving Marlee a hang-dog look.
There wasn’t anything wrong with revealing those details to Conrad Thayer or anyone else who was interested in The Showcase. If Abby was telling the truth, that is.
“Why did he insist on Yellow Tail Security to handle the guarding of his urn?” Marlee asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.
“Sean and I went to high school together and have been friends ever since. I put in a good word for him and Uncle Conrad was happy to choose his company. He knows Sean and what a good guy he is,” Abby said, blushing, a goofy grin spreading across her face.
“Wait, are you and Sean more than acquaintances? Are you dating?” Marlee asked.
“We’re in love. He’s just waiting to ask his wife for a divorce after her birthday at the end of February,” Abby gushed, not suspecting that she had fallen prey to the age-old scheme husbands had been playing on their mistresses for centuries.
“Abby, do you think Sean is involved in all of this?” Marlee asked.
“No! Of course not! I’ve known him for years, and he wouldn’t threaten another person with any kind of harm,” Abby said.
“Did you know he left the Elmwood Police Department because he was suspected of hiding or destroying evidence in a case?” Marlee asked.
“Sean told me all about it. He didn’t do anything illegal. He got on the bad side of the Chief of Police and they set him up so they could get rid of him. That’s all there is to it!”
“And you believe him?” Marlee wasn’t sure if Abby’s judgment was clouded by love, or if she was still acting.
“Yes! I know he didn’t do anything wrong when he was a cop. He’s a great guy. And he wouldn’t get somebody to steal for him either,” Abby insisted.
“Out of curiosity, who pursued who when you first started seeing each other a few weeks ago?”
“It was mutual. He called to see if I could meet for a beer one night. We still got together for a beer once in a while, just not as often as we used to before he got married last year.”
“Who made the first move, or who suggested taking the relationship from friendship to being lovers?” Marlee continued.
“That night when we left the bar, he kissed me. Sean told me his marriage was a mistake and that this wife was horrible to him. I knew he wanted out, but didn’t know he was interested in me. I always had a bit of a crush on him.”
“Somebody put a letter in my mail box this afternoon threatening to kill Bridget if I di
dn’t stop investigating. You know anything about that?”
“No! Why do you keep asking me things like this?” Abby shrieked.
“Have you ever heard of “Occam’s Razor?”
When Abby shook her head no, Marlee continued. “The basic essence of Occam’s Razor is that the easiest explanation is probably the best.”
“So?” Abby asked.
“Who had means, motive, and opportunity to threaten Bridget into stealing the urn?” Marlee asked. “And who would be in a position to carry out those threats?”
“Like I said before, I don’t know. But I though Uncle Conrad might have some involvement,” Abby sputtered.
“The easiest answer is Conrad Thayer, Sean Yellow Tail, or you. Any of you could be the mastermind behind this scheme or you could all be working together,” Marlee said bluntly.
Abby’s eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back in a snarl. “I had nothing to do with it and neither did Sean.”
“I wish I could believe you, Abby, but you’ve lied to me from the very beginning,” Marlee said.
Abby stood up. “I was wrong about you when I said you reminded me of your cousin. You’re nothing like Bridget at all. You’re an evil bitch!”
“Believe it or not, that’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called,” Marlee said over her shoulder as she strode out of Abby’s office and down the hall.
On her drive home, Marlee swung by Kathleen’s house to see if anyone was watching the home or lurking in the area. Seeing nothing untoward, she drove home. Her interaction with Abby had been most productive. The connections between Thayer, Sean, and Abby put them all at the top of the suspect list.
Pulling the crime chart off the floor and back onto the table, Marlee indicated the relationships between Abby, Thayer, and Sean by drawing lines between them. As far as she was concerned, all three were in this scheme up to their necks. They threatened Bridget until she stole the urn then she was to turn it over to them. Thayer, Abby, and Sean would then split the insurance money and no one would be the wiser.
A few loose ends still bothered Marlee. Who saw Bridget take the urn into Marlee’s house? That person’s report to the police foiled the plan that Abby, her uncle, and her boyfriend had put into motion. Was there another co-conspirator? Perhaps someone who was initially involved in the scheme but got cut out so they reported the theft to the police? Why was Abby faking a leg injury? She said it was to see a cute physical therapist but then talked about her love affair with Sean Yellow Tail.
Marlee glanced at the clock. It was nearing 5:00 p.m., and there was no guarantee her lawyer would still be in his office. Happy hour started for him around 2:00 in the afternoon, even earlier on Fridays.
On the fourth ring, Denny Harlow answered the phone in a somewhat slurred voice. Music and female voices were heard in the background.
“Denny, I need to know the name of the confidential informant that saw Bridget take the urn into my house.” Marlee was breathing heavily, waiting for the name that could break open the whole case.
“I’ve been wondering that myself, girlie. So far the identity hasn’t been revealed. I suspect when Bridget’s attorney calls for a motions hearing, the name will come out. Until then, it remains a mystery.” After a hiccup and burp combo, Denny ended the conversation.
Frack! Marlee was hoping for a name. Especially the name of someone who had information about the urn and the scheme to steal it. Her plan was to go apply pressure on that person in order to find out more about the urn theft so she could exonerate her cousin.
Marlee placed another call, this time to Kathleen’s home. Bridget answered the phone as if she were sitting beside it.
“Are you okay?” Marlee asked. “I drove by and nothing looks out of the ordinary.”
“I’m just fine. After your weird call earlier, I was a little upset. But I’ve been sitting here talking about it and I’m not worried anymore.” Bridget said.
“Yeah, Kathleen is a good listener. She’s heard about a lot of my problems over the years,” Marlee said with a smile.
“Kathleen’s not here. She hasn’t come back from campus yet. I’m just talking to Abby.”
“Oh my God! Bridget, get out of there right away! I’m calling the police.”
Bridget laughed. “Very funny, Cousin. You know I can’t leave the house. I’m on electronic monitoring.”
I know who my real friends are now.
Chapter 21
With cell phone in hand, Marlee dashed from her house and into her car. She popped the SUV into reverse and slightly dented the garage door before she realized it wasn’t open. After much creaking and groaning, the garage door rose to a three-quarters open position which she estimated would be enough clearance to remove her car. Marlee was partially right. There were three inches to spare between the garage door and the body of the SUV, but the antenna atop the roof was bent into a right angle.
Marlee sped the few blocks over to Kathleen’s house and parked in her driveway. She ran to the front door and pounded on it with both fists. “Let me in! Bridget, are you okay?”
Not a sound could be heard from inside the residence. The door was locked, so Marlee continued pounding on it and shouting. Remembering her phone that she had slipped into her jeans pocket, she grabbed for it and dialed 911, detailing her worries to the dispatcher. With an assurance the police were on their way, Marlee ceased her assault on the front door. She jumped behind the bushes in front of the house so she could peer into the living room window. No one was there, but the television was turned to Oprah.
Running to the back door, Marlee grabbed the door handle and found that it was unlocked. She charged inside and ran through the kitchen to the bedrooms. No one was in either Kathleen’s or Bridget’s rooms or the bathroom. Muffled voices were coming from downstairs, so Marlee raced to the basement. Bridget and Abby were hunched over a long table near the washer and dryer. As Marlee approached them, she saw they were gazing at various photographs.
“What’s going on?” Marlee’s heart was in her throat as she frantically looked about for a gun or some other type of weapon Abby might have in her possession.
Abby and Bridget both jumped upon hearing Marlee enter the dark basement utility room. “What are you doing here?” Abby protectively reached for the photos.
“Bridget, are you okay?” Marlee forced herself to appear calm. If she had any hope of getting Bridget away from her psychopath assistant, she would have to give off an air of calmness.
“Sure, why?” Bridget asked with a confused look on her face. “And what are you doing here? You know I can’t have any contact with you.”
“I know, but I thought Abby was…” Marlee’s voice trailed off as she realized Bridget was in no danger from her assistant.
“You thought I was what?” Abby asked, confusion spreading across her face as well.
“Well, I, um, I don’t know what I thought,” she stammered as she searched her mind for an excuse for barging into the house. Marlee couldn’t announce that she thought Abby came over to kill Bridget, especially since that scenario now appeared to be false.
“Abby came over to visit and brought pictures of the new arrivals for The Showcase. We lined them up with the photos of the pieces that were already at Marymount when I left. The Showcase is going to be spectacular, and I won’t get to see it. I’m really going to miss seeing this event through to the end.” Bridget’s face was downcast as she glanced at the photos of various vases, paintings, sculptures, and other procured pieces of art.
The somber moment was pierced by the wailing of sirens, causing all three women to jump. They raced upstairs just in time to see three Elmwood squad cars lurch to a halt in front of the residence.
“Oh my God! If they find me here, we’ll all be in big trouble!” Marlee exclaimed realizing that the cops, whom she had summoned when she thought Bridget was in danger from Abby, would now have cause to haul Bridget back into court, since Marlee was on the premises. Marlee herself might
face legal consequences as a result of her proximity to her cousin.
“Go hide! I’ll cover for you!” Bridget motioned toward the basement, and Marlee took heed, scampering back down the basement stairs and taking cover behind the water heater.
A loud knock on the front door summoned Bridget to the living room. “Hello?” Bridget raised her eyebrows in mock confusion as she opened the door to the multitude of officers wearing bulletproof vests over their uniforms.
“We had a report that you were in danger,” said a lanky female officer with a severe blond ponytail.
“No, there’s no danger here. I’m just chatting with my friend, Abby,” Bridget said, blinking as she looked into the brightness of the day.
“Why would someone report that you were in danger, ma’am?” asked the female officer.
“My cousin, Marlee, was concerned earlier that someone might try to harm me, but that turned out not to be the case. It was all a misunderstanding.” Bridget struggled not to fidget as she lied through her teeth.
A young male officer, short and squat, approached the female officer and whispered into her ear. “Ma’am, is Marlee McCabe here at this residence?” asked the female officer.
“No, she isn’t. I’m not allowed any contact with her as a condition of my release.” Bridget hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt.
“The SUV out front is registered to Marlee McCabe. Why is her car here?” The blond officer wasn’t going to let this go. She stared at Bridget, picking up any signs of deceit through body language.
Bridget struggled for an excuse. There really wasn’t any good reason for Marlee’s car to be parked in front of Kathleen’s house. “Well, she was…um…I mean, she left it…”
“It’s a funny story officer. I actually borrowed Marlee’s car. That’s why it’s parked out front.” Abby stepped forth with an explanation she hoped would save the day.
Art of Deception Page 18
