Susan's watercolor fetched a very respectable price with several bidders vying for the lovely painting, simply titled “Scarlet Morning Glories.”
Unlike the auctioneers I'd encountered when I'd attended antiques auctions, Brooks took his time, playing the genial host, always with positive comments as he encouraged the bidders to go higher. His formula worked well, and the crowd seemed happy and engaged. When he called on me, I managed to get through my talk about the Lonesome Valley Animal Rescue Society and its good work. By the time I finished, I was actually shaking, and I sank back into my cushy chair, grateful to be done, as Brooks proceeded to call for bids on my colorful landscape. I was relieved that there were several bidders. Like the artwork that had been sold previously, mine fetched a good price, so I felt both relieved and happy. So was Belle, who'd never had to raise her number paddle, because she'd been a little nervous about bidding,
Finally, Brooks came to the last painting. Like mine, it was an oil painting. Unlike mine, which was in a style I called expressionistic abstract, Ulysses's landscape was in the same hyper-realistic style that Ralph favored. Ulysses looked almost ill as he stood and acknowledged a round of applause from the audience. He spoke briefly, almost by rote, about his favorite charity.
I wondered if perhaps Ulysses really was ill. Maybe both he and Olivia were coming down with a bug. She'd had a headache earlier and hadn't accompanied Ulysses to the auction, even though her painting was on offer, too, and Brooks had filled in to talk about her charity. He hadn't said she was sick, though, only that she was unable to attend.
Brooks quickly picked up the pace, making up for Ulysses's lack of enthusiasm. As expected, Ulysses's artwork brought the highest price of the evening by far. I didn't need Belle to tell me who placed the top bid because I recognized the actor as the star of a popular TV drama I'd watched for years.
After the auction ended, the crowd thinned, but several people remained. Belle saw a friend of hers who'd been sitting on the other side of the room and went over to talk with her, while I couldn't resist visiting the dessert table again and snagging a pink petit four decorated with a cute design of white rosebuds and green leaves.
Brooks and Ulysses had sequestered themselves in a small alcove not far from where I was standing. I could see them out of the corner of my eye. Although they spoke in low voices, somehow the acoustics of the room amplified their conversation, and I could hear them clearly.
“How soon can I get my money?” Ulysses asked urgently.
“We're going to disburse the funds Monday.”
“I tell you I need the cash now! And I need all of it! Can't you make some arrangements?”
“Calm down, Ulysses. You're being totally unreasonable. You know the banks are closed on the weekend.”
“You don't understand. Olivia's been kidnapped!”
Chapter 8
“They're holding her for ransom, and I can't raise the half a million without the money from the auction. Most of my assets aren't liquid. You have to help me!”
“Olivia wasn't in your car after the paint-out, was she?”
“No! All I found in the car was a ransom note.”
“We need to go to the police right away.”
“I forbid it! They said they'd kill her if I told the police.” Ulysses grabbed Brooks by his lapels. “Please, man, you've got to help me. And promise you won't involve the police!”
Suddenly they stopped talking and looked in my direction. Frowning, Brooks approached me. He stood uncomfortably close as he leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“I think you may have heard something you weren't intended to hear. Am I right?”
I nodded and Brooks took me by the elbow and steered me over to Ulysses.
“You heard?”
“Yes, and I think you should report it to the FBI. They can help you.”
“No way. The kidnappers warned me. They said they're watching me. I can't take any chances. You must promise not to breathe a word about this to a soul. It's my decision.”
Just then, Ulysses's cell phone rang. He quickly answered, and his face contorted in fear as he listened. Brooks and I could hear a tinny, robotic voice emanating from the phone. Ulysses never had an opportunity to say a word before the caller hung up.
“He's watching us right now!” he said. “He told me I was with Brooks Miller and Amanda Kaye Trent. Now do you believe me? If we call the police, he's going to kill Olivia!”
I scanned the room, but I didn't notice anyone looking our way. All the people who remained were engaged in their own conversations. They weren't paying any attention to us.
Although I thought Ulysses should call in the FBI, I could understand the reason he remained adamant. He believed the kidnapper's warning that he'd kill Olivia if he went to the authorities for help.
“I think we have to respect Ulysses's wishes, Amanda,” Brooks said. “He's more interested in keeping Olivia safe than in catching the kidnappers.”
“I realize that, but . . . .”
“I'm begging you,” Ulysses pleaded, desperately. “Don't say a word!”
“All right,” I agreed reluctantly. “I'm so sorry this happened. I hope you'll be able to raise the ransom money.”
“Don't worry about that,” Brooks told me. “I'll take care of it.”
I left the two of them huddled together in the alcove and found Belle still chatting with her friend on the other side of the room. I felt sick with dread after what I'd heard and quite powerless to do anything about it. I thought Ulysses's decision not to inform the police was a bad one, but I also understood his refusal, especially after he'd received the creepy phone call.
Belle noticed that I was unusually quiet on the way home, but I explained by fibbing, claiming I had a splitting headache.
That night, I lay awake, thinking about what poor Olivia must be going through. Ulysses had to be out of his mind with worry, but I knew Brooks would make sure he raised every dollar of the ransom. Brooks belonged to one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Arizona. Raising cash, even on the weekend, shouldn't present a problem for him. When he'd said he'd take care of it, he'd sounded resolute.
I kept thinking about the weird phone call and its implications. The kidnapper had known Brooks's name and my name, but since I seldom used my middle name, I assumed he had attended the auction, where my name on the program was listed as Amanda Kaye Trent. When I'd stood after Brooks introduced me, the kidnapper had heard my name and seen what I looked like. I was convinced that the kidnapper, or one of them, had attended the auction. Whoever it was must have had to leave the room and find a private place to make the phone call to Ulysses so that he could use some kind of equipment to alter his voice. I kept thinking of the kidnapper as a man, but I realized a woman could be involved, and probably more than one person was participating.
How had they managed to snatch Olivia, right out from under our noses, at a public event? No doubt about it—she had vanished into plein air!
Chapter 9
Sunday, I felt anxious to learn what was happening, but, of course, Brooks and Ulysses had no reason to let me know. I'd stumbled onto the knowledge of the kidnapping by chance. Again, I wondered whether I should have promised to keep quiet about it since the FBI had the experience to deal with the situation. On the other hand, I could understand why Ulysses didn't want to involve them. The threatening phone call he'd received while we were talking had probably influenced me, too.
Slowly, the hours ticked by, as I worked on a commissioned pet portrait of two Siamese cats, striving to capture their lively natures. Their pet parents had sent me several videos of the playful pair, and I almost felt as though I knew them, even though I'd never met them in person.
I had Emma to thank for this particular commission. She'd set up a website for me, devoted just to my pet portraits. I didn't remove examples or references to this part of my art business from my artist's website, which showed the full range of my work, but I thought the
separate website devoted to pet portraits was a good idea. Emma had shared images of my pet paintings extensively on social media, generating some traffic for the new site, and I'd already gained commissions for two portraits from inquiries through the website.
My income from my art business fluctuated wildly. So far, I'd been extremely lucky that whenever the balance in my checking account plunged, I'd sold a painting. I was hoping that the pet portrait side of my business could eventually provide some stability. Although budgeting wasn't exactly my strong suit, and neither was solving cash flow issues, so far I'd managed to muddle through.
Artists like Ulysses didn't have such problems, I thought, but perhaps I was wrong about that. He'd said he needed the proceeds from the sale of his auctioned painting to have enough to pay Olivia's ransom, but then again, he'd said most of his assets weren't liquid. According to Pamela, Ulysses was a very rich man, indeed.
I took an occasional break from my painting to check the local news on my laptop, although I realized that if Ulysses were successful and Olivia safely returned home, he'd probably keep the entire incident to himself. By evening, I couldn't stand the suspense any longer, so I decided to call Brooks in hopes that he'd be willing to tell me what was happening, but it proved an impossible task. I didn't know his cell phone number, and when I called the resort and asked to speak with him, my call was directed to his voice mail. I left a message before I called back and explained to the resort's switchboard operator that I'd left a message, but that I needed to get in touch with Brooks right away. She told me he “wasn't in,” and she refused to give me his landline or cell phone number. I fretted, but there was nothing else I could do.
About half an hour later, Brooks called me.
“Thanks for calling me back. You must have heard my message.”
“No, I didn't. Uh, Amanda, I'm calling because I have a big favor to ask you. Olivia's life depends on it.”
“What is it?” I asked as my stomach did flip flops.
“The kidnappers have contacted Ulysses, but they don't want him to deliver the ransom. They want you to do it.”
“Me?” I croaked.
“Yes. My guess is that they figure you already know about the kidnapping, and they don't want to have to deal with Ulysses possibly trying to pull some heroics or maybe deciding to track them down.”
“But. . . .”
“Look, I know it could be dangerous. They demanded that you come alone.”
I could hear Ulysses in the background, asking Brooks to hand him the phone, and the next thing I knew, Ulysses was begging me to deliver the ransom money. He assured me that all I needed to do was drop off a gym bag and leave immediately.
“What's the back-up plan if I don't do it?” I asked.
“There isn't one! Don't you understand? They know who you are, and they want to see you, nobody else.”
“All right,” I said against my better judgment, but I figured the kidnappers had nothing to gain from harming me. “When and where?”
“We don't know yet. They're supposed to call back in an hour to tell me.”
Brooks came back on the phone and he would have offered to send one of the resort's limos to pick me up, but the kidnappers insisted that I drive my own car. That wasn't exactly welcome information because it meant they not only knew who I was, but they also knew what kind of vehicle I drove.
The light was already fading from the sky as I grabbed my bag and keys from the kitchen counter. I gave Laddie a hug and told him to be a good boy. I would have picked up Mona Lisa for a quick cuddle, but she was nowhere to be seen. On my way out, I turned on the kitchen light and the light in my carport, so I wouldn't be coming home to a dark house.
If I was coming home.
As I drove to the resort to meet Ulysses and Brooks, I felt scared, but I kept reminding myself that the kidnappers really had no reason to harm me. Still, we were dealing with criminals—people who'd abducted Olivia and threatened her life. And there was no guarantee that they would keep their promise to release her after they collected the ransom.
Brooks met me at the valet parking area of Lonesome Valley Resort and directed one of the valets on duty to keep my SUV available, rather than moving it to the reserved parking lot. Then, he led me upstairs to the suite he'd provided for Ulysses and Olivia during their stay in Lonesome Valley.
Normally, I would have taken in every detail of the huge suite, decorated in Southwestern style, but I felt too wound up to concentrate on anything other than my role in helping Olivia come home alive.
Brooks produced a gym bag with the Lonesome Valley Resort logo on it. It looked like any other bag except for a white scrape on one of its black handles. He unzipped it and showed me the cash.
“Half a million in unmarked hundreds,” he said. “That's what they asked for.”
“We want to follow their instruction exactly,” Ulysses said. “We're not going to try to track them down. I'm sorry that they specified you have to come alone. I asked them to let me deliver the money, but they refused.”
While we waited for the kidnappers to call with the location for the ransom drop, Brooks made sure that we all had each others' cell phone numbers in our phones, so we could communicate, if necessary.
“They should have called by now,” Ulysses said, as he paced back and forth. “Why haven't they called?”
Brooks glanced at his Rolex. “It's been exactly fifty-eight minutes since their last call.”
A few more minutes passed without a call.
“Why haven't they called?” Ulysses fretted. “It's over an hour now.”
Another ten minutes went by, as Ulysses became more and more agitated, but there wasn't a thing he could do. He was completely at the mercy of the kidnappers.
Finally, the call came, twenty minutes past due.
Ulysses answered immediately and jotted down my instructions: come alone; drop the cash in a trash bin behind the tennis courts at East Park; leave immediately without looking back.
“Ready?” Brooks asked, picking up the gym bag.
I nodded, and he accompanied me to my car, which the valet had parked close to the resort's entrance. He put the gym bag on the passenger seat.
“Be careful, Amanda, and call me after you've dropped off the bag, but not until you're well away from the park. Ulysses said they're going to let him know where to pick up Olivia.”
“OK.”
I was so nervous I took a wrong turn on my way to the park and had to double back. When I reached the park, I saw two vehicles in the parking lot next to the tennis courts. I noted that one was a black pickup truck and the other a silver Toyota, although I doubted that either car belonged to the kidnappers.
Two feeble street lamps provided the only illumination. The lights on the tennis courts had been turned off. I knew they were controlled by an automatic timer, set to go off at nine in the evening, because Emma and I had batted some tennis balls around on these very courts a few times during her visit. Since I was no match for her, she always won every game we played. How I wished I were here to play tennis with Emma!
A sidewalk ran all the way around the four tennis courts. The bin was supposed to be behind the courts. I picked up the bag and my cell phone and followed the sidewalk around to the left. I thought perhaps I'd need the flashlight on my cell phone to see in the dark area behind the courts, but there was just enough light from the puny lamps in the parking lot that I didn't need to use my phone.
I spotted the trash barrel on the back side of the courts, but I stopped short when I heard people talking. It sounded as though they were getting closer, so I crouched behind the trash can, hoping I was out of sight. I peeked cautiously around the bin and saw two teenage girls heading toward the parking lot. They didn't even look my way, but I waited until I heard car doors closing before I stood and deposited the gym bag in the barrel.
Then I walked quickly back to my car. I thought I heard a noise behind me, but, as instructed, I didn't look back. I kept w
alking until I reached my car. My hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to put my key into the ignition. Once I started my SUV, I wheeled out of the parking lot with a screech of tires as I accelerated. After I drove several blocks and saw no headlights behind me, I stopped at an all-night supermarket and called Brooks.
“The kidnappers have already called and told Ulysses where to pick up Olivia—some truck stop just off the highway,” he told me.
“Would you please let me know as soon as you find out she's really safe?”
“Of course. I'll call you right away. I can't thank you enough for helping Ulysses. It was very brave of you. I'm sorry to have involved you in all this. I didn't want to, but Ulysses insisted.”
“I realize he thought he had no choice.”
“I just hope the kidnappers keep their promise.”
“So do I,” I said fervently. “So do I.”
Chapter 10
I drove home to an enthusiastic greeting from both Laddie and Mona Lisa. They looked so adorable as they crowded close to me that I rewarded them each with a treat.
Keeping my phone close so that I could answer right away when Brooks called, I made myself some cinnamon toast and cocoa, figuring some comfort food couldn't hurt. Laddie lay next to me, his chin resting on my foot, as I sat at my little table and munched on my toast while Mona Lisa perched on the chair opposite me, eyeing my snack, even though she would have turned her nose up at it had I offered her a piece.
She graced me with her mysterious Mona Lisa smile, and I wondered what she was thinking, but, of course, it would forever remain a mystery.
My ringing phone interrupted my reverie, and I snatched it up and quickly scrolled to answer Brooks's call.
“I have good news and bad news,” he announced, although, thankfully, he didn't keep me in suspense. “Olivia is fine—not so much as a scratch on her—but Ulysses is in the hospital.”
Vanished into Plein Air Page 4
