by Lotta Smith
By his side, Jackie leaned in, exclaiming, “I’d love, love, love to have him as my hair stylist. So, Claudia, how can I make a reservation?”
“By referral, you can have your name listed in the looong waiting list. It works pretty much the same way as buying your first Birkin from Hermès when you’re alive.” Claudia extended her arms sideways as if to show her fellow ghost the way.
“That’s interesting,” Nicole commented as I relayed the ghosts’ conversation. “I was lucky enough to have a big sister who had a Hermès executive as her patient. Thanks to Meredith, I was able to purchase my first purse without waiting at all. How about you, Mandy? I believe every girl has a unique story about her first Birkin.”
“I think Dan gave me one in red as a diaper bag.” I tilted my head. “But the purse itself was very heavy, and with the diapers and bottles and so on, I don’t think I’d be able to lift it. So I’m stashing it in a deep corner of the closet. In my opinion, they should seriously consider attaching little drones at the top of the purse. The purses don’t need to fly on their own, but at least they should offer some lifting power to cancel its weight. Some suitcases follow you around, and they cost a fraction of a Birkin.”
“Oh, you have a point.” Nicole nodded again and again. “A self-lifting Birkin would be a total hoot. Except, chiropractors won’t like that. They’re earning a ton of money from women with sore arms and shoulders thanks to carrying heavy-weight purses.”
“That’s so true,” I agreed. I’d heard about women battling upper limb aches and premier designer purse addictions.”
A knock sounded on the locked door.
“It looks like that bossy detective’s getting jittery,” Jackie commented.
“Okay then, why don’t we go back outside?” Nicole suggested.
CHAPTER 6
Three minutes later, we were back in the salon. The distance between the art room and the salon wasn’t that far, but Detective Seagal had to check out the monster mask on his own when we were done observing. According to him, he needed to see if Rick and I had done any funny business while he was out.
As he eyed us suspiciously, Jackie shook her head, muttering, “This detective must have never heard about USCAB, or else he’s totally delusional. I think he needs help,” prompting me to chuckle again.
Once the storage door was locked up again, Nicole asked Rick to keep the key, which he accepted. Detective Seagal made another fuss, saying it was risky to have my husband carry the key, but Nicole shut him up by pointing out that by having Rick carry the key and her knowing the code, she was lessening the risks of theft if the Mysterious Art Connoisseur decided to strike her and steal the mask.
“Hi, again.” Shannon was still at the table sipping tea, raising a hand at us.
“So, how was Beast doing?” Ken Seyfried, the insurance guy, rubbed his palms nervously.
“It was fine,” Nicole said nonchalantly. “The tea has gone cold. I’ll fix new cups.” She stood up and went into the adjacent room, carrying the tray with used cups.
“Hey, Rick, I suppose you’ve been involved with a ton of interesting, intriguing cases, right?” Shannon fluttered her eyelashes, looking at him expectantly. “Why don’t you tell us about your adventures?”
“My adventures? That’s a real stretch.” He chuckled. “Most of our cases are boring—nothing article-worthy. Besides that, there’s something called a confidentiality clause.”
“Oh, the rumor about you is true, then.” Shannon let out a throaty laugh.
“What rumor?” I asked, curious.
“He tends to behave lightheartedly, even friendly, but when it comes to business, he’s tight-lipped, not letting out anything crucial. Just like his dad,” she explained.
“Just like my old man?” Rick raised an eyebrow. “Should I take that as a compliment, or should I be offended?”
“Compliment it is,” Jackie commented. “Dan is not just hot. He’s gorgeous in many ways.”
“If I were you, I’d take it as a compliment.”
Nicole came back with fresh cups as Shannon stated that last remark. “Having fun?” She smiled, distributing a fresh cup to each of us.
But before any of us replied, the intercom beeped.
“Let me answer that,” Rick and Detective Seagal said in unison, but Nicole had already stood up, answering the call at the touchscreen on the wall.
“Hello?”
A loud male voice echoed from the other end. “Hi, Nicole! It’s me, George Radcliffe. Can we have a chat?” He sounded more demanding than asking a question.
“Again?” Nicole let out an audible sigh. “I said I won’t be selling Beast, didn’t I?”
“Come on, cut me some slack and at least listen to me, will you please?” George was persistent. “The Beast mask isn’t the only thing I’m interested in. We can talk about business with other art pieces, such as the paintings and the potteries.”
“This dude sounds interesting. Why don’t you let him in?” Rick suggested in a low voice.
“All right.” Nicole buzzed him in. “Excuse me while I answer the door.” She left the salon.
Seyfried groaned. “Are we having another outsider… seriously?”
“Too many outsiders spoil the security,” Detective Seagal harrumphed, giving us a dirty look.
“Still, it’s George, right? In my opinion, the chance of him being the Mysterious Art Connoisseur is slim to none,” Shannon interjected. “He’s an art broker himself. Unlike Nicole, who values being a collector. He’s all about business, and I’ve never heard of him fencing stolen goods. I know sometimes it’s the legitimate brokers and dealers who sell the most stolen items, but I don’t think he’d be able to brag about his thefts if he’s the famous thief.”
“That’s interesting.” Rick took a sip of tea in an elegant manner. “Even if he happens to be the thief, stealing in front of us won’t be easy.”
Seagal looked around the table like he was observing us. “I have a feeling that my thief will strike today.”
One of Rick’s eyebrows twitched a little, but he didn’t say anything.
“Wow, Nicole. You’ve been having a party without me?” a guy exclaimed as he was led into the salon. He was dressed in a light beige suit and a bright red shirt. He paired a truly loud neon yellow tie with a pair of white enamel shoes to complete the look.
“Someone please call the fashion police,” Jackie said, putting her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. She was right. The guy was a walking fashion faux-pas.
“You could’ve called me. You’ve got my number, right?” he joked, winking at the hostess.
Nicole rolled her eyes at him but introduced him to us. “This is George Radcliffe, an art and antique broker.”
“Hi, everyone. Nice meeting you.” Taking a seat at the sofa without Nicole’s permission, Radcliffe flashed a set of bleached teeth. “Wow, what a party!”
Seagal cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m in the middle of a case here and I’d appreciate it if you’d leave here as quickly as possible.”
“And you are?” Radcliffe narrowed his eyes.
“I’m Detective Seagal from NYPD. Like I said, it’s not a good time for attempting to make a deal. Besides that, Mrs. Sparks seems to be reluctant to sell you the mask.”
“How about you not stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” Radcliffe snarled, prompting the detective to do so, as well.
“What did you just say?” Seagal glared at the art broker.
Rick just sat there watching them argue. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but a corner of his lips was twitching, like he was suppressing an urge to break into a wide grin.
“Relax, both of you,” Nicole said. “George, what the detective says is right. It’s bad timing for negotiation. Also, I have no intention of selling Beast.”
“No way, Nicole. You’re playing a game, aren’t you?” Radcliffe displayed a vulgar smile. “Okay, so I offered sixty grand previously, but I’m open to
offer three quarters of a million. What do you say?”
“No way, I say.” She shook her head. “I told you I won’t be selling Beast for a million dollars. Also, I’d appreciate it if you don’t bring up business in front of my guests.”
“Well, my apologies,” Radcliffe mumbled.
“Mrs. Sparks, in case you are to sell the mask, will you make sure to notify us?” Seyfried chimed in. “We’ll have to modify the insurance plan.”
“No need to worry, Mr. Seyfried.” Nicole laughed. “I won’t be selling it.”
Radcliffe clicked his tongue, picked up the teacup that was closest to him, and drank it all in a gulp.
Shannon grimaced, saying, “For your information, that was my cup.”
“Oops, my bad.” Radcliffe slapped his forehead. Wiping the lip of the cup with his index finger, he said, “I’m returning this cup to you. If you have a refill….”
Shannon raised her hand. “Don’t bother, please. I’m not thirsty anyway.” Then she turned to Nicole. “Mrs. Sparks, could I use the bathroom?”
“Of course.” Nicole nodded. “You know where it’s located, right?”
She nodded, then stood up and scurried out of the salon.
“Who’s that lady?” Radcliffe whispered to Nicole as soon as Shannon was out of earshot.
“Ms. Shannon Tate? She’s an investigative reporter working on a story about my Beast. She’s with Full Speed Magazine, from Wonder Publishing,” Nicole replied.
“Wonder Publishing….” Radcliffe knitted his eyebrows. “The name sounds familiar—oh, isn’t that the same publisher of that Full Speed Beauty?”
“Oh, yes. But I’m guessing it’s just a coincidence.” Nicole shrugged.
“What coincidence?” Rick chimed in.
“Oh, Rick. It totally slipped my mind and I forgot to tell you, but there’s one thing in common about the homes struck by the Mysterious Art Connoisseur.” Nicole clasped her hands together.
“What’s that?” Rick raised an eyebrow.
Radcliffe was observing him carefully, but the next thing, he whistled. “Holy crap, I thought I’d seen you somewhere, but I couldn’t recall where. You’re Rick Rowling from USCAB, aren’t you? With the Most Eligible Bachelor joining us, Nicole, you’re such a high-profile art dealer.”
Rick shrugged and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m not a bachelor anymore. More like a soon-to-be dad.”
“Wow, congrats!” Radcliffe flashed a thumbs-up. Giving me a once-over, whatever thoughts he’d had, he had the decency to keep them to himself. “Is it a boy or girl?”
“We’re expecting a girl. Thank you.” I smiled.
Nicole cleared her throat. “The similarities between the burglarized homes hasn’t been aired on the news, but it’s a hot topic among people in the art industry in town. Shannon should be able to tell you more if you want to ask her about it.”
Detective Seagal stood up. “Excuse me while I make a call to the precinct. If you need me, I’ll be in the garden.”
“Go ahead.” Nicole nodded. After the detective had left, she said abruptly, “Heidi’s taking long for grocery shopping.”
“Maybe she’s lost and hasn’t even left the house’s perimeter,” I joked, or at least I thought I was joking, but Nicole furrowed her eyebrows.
“Actually, she got lost in the garden once,” she confided in. “Until a month ago, we had a different housekeeper, but she had to quit as she wanted to move back to the West Coast with her new boyfriend. Heidi is a good girl, but she has no sense of direction. I’d better call her.”
CHAPTER 7
“The commonality about the burglarized homes? Oh yes, that would be one of the magazines from our publishing house.” Shannon clapped her hands when Rick asked about what Nicole had just told us.
“I think it’s something worth telling Rick and Mandy,” Nicole explained.
“I agree with you.” Radcliffe nodded.
“How is that magazine related to the robberies?” Rick asked.
“Well, it’s a well-known fact among our inner circle. So far, the Mysterious Art Connoisseur has committed six heists, and just like Nicole told you, there’s something in common with the homes—or rather, the art pieces—targeted by the thief.” Shannon raised her index finger.
“Which is…?” Jackie flew around the table expectantly.
“All the items stolen by the Mysterious Art Connoisseur were featured in an art magazine published by our Wonder Publishing.” Shannon extended her arms on both sides as if to brag about it. “Isn’t it cool?”
“Does that mean the culprit has been picking targets by reading the magazine?” I asked.
“It seems to be the case.” She nodded. “We have this magazine called Full Speed Beauty, released every month. And the items stolen had been featured in this particular magazine in the past year. The first item was on the cover of April’s edition. Of course, the magazine doesn’t just circulate in the city, but every other month, it runs a small article on treasures from the Upper East Side. The editor in chief of the magazine is from this neighborhood, and as a matter of fact, many people in the district are filthy rich and have a roomful of treasures or more. Anyway, our thief has been targeting the valuable art pieces and antiques specifically mentioned in this article.”
“That’s interesting,” Rick commented. “When did the police notice the connection?”
“Well, that would be approximately two weeks ago.” Shannon squinted. “Like I said, the first item that was stolen was featured in the issue which was released in April, and the theft was committed just two months ago.”
“Six heists in just two months?” My eyes widened. “Talk about a spree.”
“Too many crimes in too short an interval—that must’ve had something to do with the police realizing it’s a serial, I guess,” Rick commented.
“Exactly.” Shannon nodded. “Though they didn’t look at each case as a part of serial heists until recently. So the common thread stayed unknown until the fifth had been committed.”
“That means the NYPD was able to predict the sixth target.” Rick tapped the table with his fingertips.
“That’s right. The truth is, that grumpy detective was on a stakeout at the sixth crime scene just a week ago. Can you believe that?”
“Seriously?” Jackie exclaimed. “Considering our thief hasn’t been captured, I must say he sucks at his job.”
I couldn’t help chuckling at her comment.
“What’s so funny?” Shannon looked at me and tilted her head.
“I just thought he might suck at what he does as a detective,” I replied. “He was at the crime scene before the culprit arrived, and yet he managed to let the thief get away.”
“I’m not sure if he turned a blind eye to the Mysterious Art Connoisseur.” She lowered her voice and playfully wiggled her fingers. “The targeted home was the Boehners’, which is close to the river and not far from here. Usually, I wouldn’t share the info I have, but this piece has already been released and none of you are my competitor, so I’m gonna share with you guys. According to my sources, Detective Seagal was watching over their mansion and witnessed the Mysterious Art Connoisseur climbing over the fence. Later it turned out that the thief had snuck into the house from somewhere the detective couldn’t see. Anyway, the detective ran after the thief without success.”
“In that case, he must’ve seen the Mysterious Art Connoisseur, right?” I interjected. “Maybe he knows details, such as the thief’s height and body shape. He might even know if it’s a man or a woman.”
“Except he doesn’t look like a guy embracing the concept of sharing.” Rick snorted.
“Even if he was generous, the detective doesn’t have a lot to share with us.” Shannon shook her head. “The thief was dressed in black from head to toe and had a black knit cap covering almost half their face. As for the height, they weren’t that tall. Some people saw Detective Seagal running after the person believed to be the Myster
ious Art Connoisseur, but that’s all the info available.”
“And our unfriendly detective let the thief slip away, right?” Nicole chuckled. “Talk about his bark being way bigger than his bite.”
“Oh, Mrs. Sparks, you’re so bad.” Shannon laughed lightheartedly. “Look, our detective isn’t all about being a villain. At least he managed to save the vase the thief was attempting to steal. Indeed, the Ming vase came back to the Boehners in mint condition, so the owners were really thankful for him. The problem was that his bosses at the NYPD weren’t as appreciative—mostly because he didn’t get to catch the thief. His partner was watching the mansion from a different area, so Detective Seagal was solely responsible for the failure to arrest the culprit.”
“That explains his edginess, I guess,” Jackie commented as Rick and I exchanged glances.
“You’re so informative, Shannon,” Rick said.
“Of course. That’s what I do for a living.” She wiggled her right index finger in a coquettish manner.
“For your information, I happen to know the Boehners,” Radcliffe butted in, his nose proudly flaring. “The antique and art dealing society is a really small world. As a matter of fact, I have a subscription to Full Speed Beauty. When the rumors came out about the serial burglar being a one-person operation, I was aware of the common factor being that magazine.”
“Oh my word!” Nicole dramatically threw her hands up in the air. “Watch out everybody, he could be the Mysterious Art Connoisseur!”
“Oh no, Mrs. Sparks. If I were the thief, I wouldn’t bother with asking you to sell your treasure.” The art dealer shook his head.
“That’s a good point,” Nicole clapped her hands.
“The funny thing is”—Shannon touched her chin, tilting her head—“the Boehners’ Ming vase was the last item that appeared in the magazine. So far, they haven’t even written the article about Mrs. Sparks’ mask called Beast.”
“Is that so?” I looked at Nicole. “But the Mysterious Art Connoisseur sent you the threat letter.”
“That’s right. Unfortunately, they haven’t called us about having Beast’s lovely face pasted on the magazine cover. Shannon, I’d really appreciate it if you’d persuade Full Speed Beauty’s editor to run an article about my cherished mask.”
