Chapter 17 – It’s Him
Gale dialed up Jinny and told him to pick her up, they were going over to Gwen’s. He said, “I can’t.”
“What’s her name?”
“I wish. But I still think of Monique.”
“Jinny, you got to get over her. She’s been gone four months, and besides, she was Big George’s squeeze.”
“His assistant.”
“Yeah, and we know what she assisted him with.”
“Galey, crudity doesn’t become you.”
“You’re the gangster. Gangsters aren't crude? Exactly how refined are baseball bats and 45 caliber bullets?”
“Former gangster. Now cultural impresario.”
“Something’s up, you gotta come get me.”
“I said I’m busy. You can drive, can’t you, or did you get your license revoked again for speeding. You gotta get rid of that Ferrari.”
“It’s not about me, it’s about the painting.”
Jinny said, “What painting?”
“Jesus, Jinny, are you alzheimeristic already? The fucking painting we stole from the museum. The thing we got nothing out of other than a thrill.”
“There you go with the crudity again. Stop it. Ok, that painting. What about it?”
“Have you stolen any other paintings? You leave me and Gwen out of something?”
“What about the painting, Gale?”
“The museum’s having a press conference tomorrow afternoon about it. Five o’clock.”
“So?”
“So they’re announcing they’ve solved the case. The case of the theft. Get it? Us?”
“How do you know?”
“They put out a press release saying they’re having a press conference. And that’s what it’s about. Us.”
“How’d you find out?”
Gale said, “I get a news feed from the City’s Office of Cultural Affairs. It came on that.”
“Can I get that? I’m cultured, ain’t I?”
“JINNY, they’re saying they know who stole the painting. We gotta go see Gwen. NOW.”
“Ok, see you in five.”
Jinny parked his BMW on Church Street and they walked up to the June’s house. Gale started up the brick steps when Jinny took her arm and pulled her down the driveway and over to the wood steps up to the back porch. At the top he took a small case from his pocket, extracted two small tools, and picked the deadbolt on the door. He said, “I gotta keep in practice.” They went through the pantry and entered the kitchen, where they found me sitting at the counter pointing my Glock 40 cal at them. Jinny said, “You carry that thing inside your house? Who you think’s coming after you?”
I said, “Ya never know. What’s up?” I looked at Gale and said, “He’s been here four years, and you haven’t taught him that in Charleston, we ring the chimes when we want to come inside someone’s house?”
Gale said, “He said he has to keep his lock-picking skills in practice. I don’t know why; it’s not like he has to go out and steal money all the time. You know he has two mill stashed in his house?”
I looked at Jinny and said, “You keep two million dollars in cash in your house.” I didn’t ask where he got it. “What’s up that you had to break and enter my house?”
Gale took out her phone, brought up an email, and handed the phone to me. I read the press release announcing the press conference and said, “Jesus. I guess Roger’s going to find out what he wanted to know.”
“What’s that?”
“How I look in prison orange.”
Jinny looked at Gale and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll look good in it. You look good in anything.”
I said, “I guess we’d better go. If they really do know, it won’t matter, and if they’re just beating the bushes, that won’t matter either.”
Gale said, “It says they’re serving champagne, so at least we’ll get a drink before they arrest us. You don’t think when they say champagne they really mean crappy sparkling wine from New Mexico, do you?”
“I’ve never been to a press conference where they’re going to serve booze, so I couldn’t say.”
Jinny said, “What do you mean about beating the bushes?”
I said, “It may be some kind of trick, trying to flush us out. I don’t know. We’ll go and see.”
Jinny said, “What about the painting? Maybe we should move it.”
I hadn’t thought of that, and said, “Where? It looks so good where it is, and if they know it was us, it won’t matter.”
Gale said, “You’re too close to this thing. You’re not thinking clearly. Jinny’s right, we gotta get it out of here, at least for a while. How about next door?”
“Richard’s?”
“Why not? He likes us.”
I said, “I’m not sure he likes us enough to hide stolen goods.”
“Why not ask? He can always claim we held a gun to his head. Like that one on the counter. Can say we told him we’d accuse him of plagiarism in his books if he calls the cops. Nothing worse than that for a writer.”
Jinny said, “Yeah there is: boring writing is worse.”
I looked at him and said, “How ‘bout knocking on his door, ask him if we can store something in his house while we have the living room walls painted.”
Ten minutes later Jinny came back. “He said if we mean the painting we stole from the museum, the answer is yes, if we give him an exclusive on the story, whichever way it turns out.”
Gale said, “What’s that mean?”
“He gets to write a book about us stealing the most famous painting in Charleston and getting away with it, or gets to write a book about us stealing the painting, getting caught by a smart insurance company investigator, and spending ten years in the slammer. He’s good either way.”
I said, “Let’s leave it where it is for right now. There’s something weird about it I can’t place yet. We can take it next door if somebody comes snooping around.” To Gale, “Would you do me a favor? Get on the computer and see if anybody in Charleston, or nearby, has a ’68 Mustang 390 GT, and if they’d be willing to rent it out for a day or two?”
She looked at me, and said, “What are you cooking up? We’re on the verge of going to jail, and you’re setting something up? A game? What is it?” She stood looking at me, and then she got it. “Oh, wait, yes, oh you’re so bad. Oh Gwen, yes, let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“It’s something to do with the guy you saw at the museum, the guy that looks like Steve McQueen. You think he’s still around?” I nodded. “You think he’s part of the heist, involved?” I nodded. “How?”
“I think he’s from the insurance company.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know, I just think he is. While you’re hunting for the car, I’ll call down there and find out.”
I called the museum office and said, “I’m from the AP, and need information about the press conference tomorrow. What time is it?”
The person on the other end said, “5pm.”
“Are the Charleston Police leading it? Are they making the announcement they have solved the case?”
“No ma’am. The police are not running the conference. We are, or rather, someone working for the museum is. The insurance company. It’s their press conference.”
I said, “The AP is very interested in this. Who is leading the show tomorrow? Do you have a name?”
“Yeah, the guy’s name is Crown. Tommy Crown. The director and chief curator of the museum will be there with him. 5pm.”
“I think I’ve heard of this guy before, on another story I did a couple of years ago. What’s he look like?”
“He looks like that actor that died a few years ago. Made a great World War II movie about a German prison camp. Jumped a motorcycle over some fences trying to break out.”
“The Great Escape. Steve McQueen.”
&n
bsp; “That’s it. This guy looks like him.”
“Ok, thanks.”
I went into the study where Gale sat at the computer, and said, “I was right. It’s him. He’s from the insurance company, and he’s running the press conference tomorrow.”
She said, “Is that good or bad?
“I don’t know, but I might as well have some fun before the cell door slams shut.”
Gwenny June's Tommy Crown Affair Page 17
