Found Art (Maine Justice Book 3)

by Susan Page Davis

  Mrs. Driscoll paused beside Eddie and said, “Would you like to eat dinner with us next Sunday, Eddie? Amanda’s coming home over Columbus Day.”

  Eddie shot a glance toward Leeanne and Abby, then said, “Thank you, Mrs. Driscoll, that would be very nice.”

  I smiled to myself. Even the Wainthrop invasion wasn’t hampering Eddie. It would take quite a woman to tie him down.

  We decided it was about time to go in and sit down. I whispered to Jennifer, “Who do you think will sit beside Abby?”

  “Don’t take any bets,” she said.

  When the dust settled, I sat on the aisle with Jenny beside me. Beth had claimed the spot on the other side of Jennifer, and Leanne, then Eddie were beyond her. Abby sat between Eddie and Greg, who had the far end. I saw Charlie Emery, a senior at Colby College who was home for the weekend, looking our way. He eyed the flight crew uniform and Eddie. He cast one last longing glance along the pew before he turned away and sat farther back, with Lydia Hammond.

  “I am so glad I’m not dating, or trying to,” I told Jennifer and Beth, and they both laughed.

  “Your sisters are causing quite a buzz in this church,” Beth said.

  Jennifer gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s only begun, I’m afraid.”

  I looked down the row. “I’m standing in for their father, I guess. Should I give Eddie and Greg the third degree?”

  Jennifer looked down the row. “I saw Greg checking his calendar in the foyer, trying to figure out when he’d have another layover in Portland.”

  When the service was over, Greg left for his hotel, promising to stay in touch.

  *****

  Jeff and Eddie came early to run the next morning. Leeanne was up and had her car packed when I came back to get ready for work.

  “I hate to go,” she said. “This has been a really great weekend.”

  “Classes today?”

  “Yes, I’m heading straight for Farmington. My first class is at 9:30. I really should leave now, but I was hoping to see Abby for a second when she gets home.”

  Jennifer was puttering in the kitchen, and Leeanne hung around just long enough to hug Abby when she came in tired from the hospital. “There’s a chance I may be able to switch to the three-to-eleven shift,” she reported. “That way, I could be awake all day with Jennifer and sleep when it’s dark.”

  Leeanne left us, and I sat for a second cup of coffee while Abby ate.

  “I’m going to work on the software some more today,” Jennifer said.

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it,” Abby assured me.

  “Good, because you know, once Jennifer gets into a computer program, it can be hard to talk her down.”

  I got my briefcase, and Jennifer followed me into the garage.

  Her hair was caught back in a silver barrette, and I let my hand run down the length of it. “There’s an art club meeting next week on Monday night. Eddie and I are going. Want to go with us?”

  “Art club? Do we have to draw or anything? Because I’m really bad at that.”

  “No, we’re just going to meet artists and art lovers. For a case.”

  “Undercover work?”

  “Sort of. We won’t tell them we’re policemen unless they ask. We just want to see how it feels there. We’re trying to find out how the thieves know who has valuable art in their homes.”

  “How do you know when people have something valuable?”

  I thought about that. “Well, I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood might have some pretty good pieces.” We were living in a neighborhood beyond our income. We had gotten a good deal on the house from a church member, and I had saved money for years while I was single, making the purchase possible.

  “You don’t think they just look for ritzy houses to hit?” Jennifer asked.

  “They seem to know specifically who has what. Sometimes I think they go for particular pieces. Sort of a steal-to-order business.”

  “That’s interesting. Mrs. Harder has several nice paintings. She has an N.C. Wyeth illustration hanging in her entry.”

  I was startled. “Is it real?” I collected Wyeths in a more modest way—old books with dust jackets bearing his illustrations.

  “Yes, she told me her father bought it years ago.”

  I whistled. “She shouldn’t have told you.” Mrs. Harder was a widow, living in a little stone cottage down the street with her niece. She walked her toy poodle daily, and Jennifer had struck up an acquaintance when we’d moved in. “She’s only known us a couple of months. That might be exactly how these guys find out things. Just being friendly.”

  “And Bud and Janice Parker have a pair of Wallace Nutting prints in their family room.”

  “You’re right. I’d forgotten. I’ll check and see what those are worth. How many other art collectors do you know?”

  “Hmm…Can’t think of any more offhand, but I haven’t been in most of the houses on this street.”

  I kissed her passionately before I put the garage door up. “I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Do you know how much that means to me?”

  “I think I have an idea.”

  *****

  I read the report of the attempted burglary that happened Saturday night, and I decided to send Eddie and Nate out to interview the homeowners to see if the detective had overlooked anything that would tie it to the string of burglaries we’d already investigated. I also wanted to know what art they had that the burglars had hoped to filch.

  On the Internet, I checked values of Wallace Nutting prints and N.C. Wyeth illustrations. There was a wide variation depending on subject and quality, but there was a great deal of interest in them, and the values astonished me. Highly collectible, especially Wyeth.

  I called Mike and asked if he had a minute to discuss the computer training. He told me to come up.

  In his office, I scrutinized the Turner print carefully. A seascape with a sailing ship amid waves and a turbulent sky.

  “You like that painting?” he asked.

  “I love it, but it’s a print, not a painting.”

  “Yeah, we can’t have valuable paintings hanging in the police station.”

  “True. The print itself is pretty old. Might be fairly valuable,” I said. “I’ve just been checking the values on some prints, and you’d be amazed.” I walked to the opposite wall and looked closely at the Tom Sparr original Mike had hung the day he took over the office. It was a watercolor of a fishing rod and creel lying in long grass. Mike was an avid fisherman. “Do you mind if I ask how much you paid for that?”

  “Sharon got it for me. About a hundred and fifty, I think.”

  I nodded. Not valuable enough to draw the thieves’ attention.

  “So how’s the art case going?” Mike asked.

  “Eddie and I are getting educated. We’re going to an art club meeting next week. Jennifer might go with us.”

  “Good. That will lend you credibility. How about this computer thing?”

  “I’ve got several names. Eddie and Nate for sure. Cheryl Yeaton ambushed me in the parking garage this morning and asked me about it. Did you mention it to her?”

  “I told the sergeants, so they could see who was interested in their units. Cheryl probably got it from Terry Lemieux.”

  “So, what do you think?”

  “She’d be good.”

  I said, “Don’t laugh, but I was thinking of Tony Winfield. His uncle’s got nothing to do with it. He’s a smart kid.” Tony was the governor’s nephew, and his mind seemed to be in fast forward all the time. I’d used him as backup on a couple of cases, and I liked his intuition.

  “Let me think about that one. He’s very new.”

  “Does seniority count on this?” I asked.

  “If someone with a few years under his belt wanted it very badly, I think it might.”

  Now I was curious. “Anyone in particular in mind?”

  “Yes. Terry.” Mike was lo
oking steadily at me, as though gauging my reaction.

  “Terry? Great. Is there a problem?”

  “No. I’d like to see him do it. Terry’s a good man, and he’s done well as patrol sergeant.”

  I eyed Mike with speculation. “You know, Arnie mentioned him to me a while back when I was talking about replacements for our unit.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. His name has come up before.”

  “When?”

  He said slowly, “Before we got Eddie.”

  “You picked Terry for the unit.”

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t know that. I knew Eddie wasn’t your first choice.”

  Mike said, “Oh, I have no problems with Eddie. You know that. He’s turned out fine. But I always felt like Terry got the short end of the stick when the old chief passed over him and stuck me with Eddie. Terry’s done very well where he is, but it was a big disappointment to him.”

  “Do you think I should consider him when Arnie retires?”

  “If you want to. He’d be terrific in Priority.”

  “But he’d lose rank, wouldn’t he? And they’d have to train someone else downstairs.”

  “Not your headache.”

  I nodded. “If you think he’s serious, I’ll consider him. I was also thinking of Jimmy Cook for my unit.” Jimmy was an experienced patrolman, and Nate’s best friend.

  “Jimmy’s good,” Mike said.

  “So, what about this computer class? Any more names?”

  “Well, Ron gave me a couple of detectives’ names. Joey Bolduc and Emily Rood.”

  “Okay. So, how many is that?”

  Mike counted them out on his fingers. “Eddie, Nate, Cheryl, Tony, Terry, Joey, and Emily. Seven. Can you handle seven?”

  “How can I cut one person? They’d resent me forever.”

  Mike said, “I guess the question is, do we have enough computers available at one time? If you do this in your office, there are six.”

  “That’s counting Paula’s. What do we do, boot her out during the training?”

  “Well, I don’t think you can do it downstairs during peak hours.”

  “The logistics are up to you,” I said. “If we can set it up, I’ll take them all. Otherwise we’ll have to cut one or two people.”

  “I’ll see if I can scrounge up a couple more computer terminals. Short of that, laptops. Can you start Monday?”

  “This art thing is keeping us busy, but I think so.”

  “Good. Take these.” He handed me two folders.

  “What’s this?” I opened the top one. “Cruelty to animals? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. Ox pulling at the fairgrounds. We got a complaint that they’re hurting the poor oxen. They’ve already called the SPCA. I want an officer to go out there and see that there’s no steamrolling done.”

  “Can’t a patrolman handle this?”

  “Probably, but I thought some diplomacy might be required.”

  “So, Arnie?”

  “Excellent choice.”

  I opened the second folder. “Not another sex case.”

  Mike shrugged. “The detectives downstairs are swamped. We need someone experienced on this one.”

  I went down to my office and sent Arnie to the fairgrounds and Clyde to the hospital on the sexual abuse case. Nate and Eddie spent the morning with me on the art theft case, compiling more information.

  At noon I drove home and collapsed on the couch in the living room. Jennifer brought me a plate of leftover pot roast, potatoes and green beans.

  “I really didn’t come home for food,” I said. “I just needed to be out of the craziness for a few minutes.”

  “So eat anyway.” With that smile, she could talk me into anything except when I was under great stress. “Abby says she’s put her name in for that three-to-eleven shift.”

  “That would be so great. She’d be here and awake all day, I’d have you to myself evenings…” I took a bite and realized I was hungry.

  “What’s up at the P.D.?”

  “All kinds of crazy cases.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, ox abuse, child abuse, you name it. The detective squad is all tied up, too, and we’re getting their overflow.”

  “What you need is a nice, restful espionage case,” Jennifer said with a twinkle.

  “Something like that. Something that makes you think and has some logic to it.”

  “I’ve told you before, you should have been a scientist.”

  “Huh. Not enough field work for me.” I was starting to relax.

  When my plate was empty, Jennifer took it. “Why don’t you put your feet up for a few minutes?”

  “No, I’m not tired exactly. Maybe mentally.”

  She went to the DVD player and put a disk in.

  “What are we watching?” I asked.

  “Our baby.”

  She came back, and I pulled her onto my lap, and we watched the two-minute tape three times. Finally I clicked it off and just held her.

  “Feel better now?” she asked.

  “Much.”

  Chapter 9

  I studied art all week, thought about the unit’s budget, and prepared for the computer training. The six-month evaluations were still hanging over me, too. I couldn’t put those off any longer.

  I remembered how Mike had handled the process, telling me what he considered my strengths and weaknesses, and always giving me a chance to respond. I used that for a model.

  Clyde first. He was still the unknown quantity. I’d been warned he might challenge my authority, but he hadn’t shown that tendency so far. I’d thought hard before picking him at the end of July. I’d have taken Jimmy Cook then, but he was still having some problems with his leg, from a wound he’d received on duty. I realized I had been mentally reserving Jimmy to replace Arnie at the end of the year. Now I had Terry Lemieux and the gender imbalance to consider.

  I’d been watching Clyde, and he was doing well. We’d had a messy shooting case, and I had deliberately put Arnie in charge to see how Clyde handled being second chair. He’d carried out his duties with no problems. But then, Arnie hadn’t tried to order him around or override him on anything. His experience was an asset. I still wondered how he would react if somebody tried to pull rank. I thought back to the tobacco smuggling case and realized he’d deferred to Eddie, a man twenty-five years his junior, without complaint. I gave him mostly good marks.

  Arnie pleased me very much. He had handled the ox pulling case with aplomb, and the event kept running. The SPCA had been suspicious at first, but had ended up agreeing with Arnie that there really was no abuse of the animals. The protesters that filed the complaint weren’t happy, but Arnie had let them understand that the oxen’s rights were limited, and so were theirs. Arnie had handled the shooting well, though he was perhaps a shade too deferential to Clyde. Maybe he was trying to ease his way out of the limelight. I realized I had less than three months left with Arnie, and I was going to miss him.

  Nate was a steady worker, no matter what I assigned him. He was always attentive and thorough. He always showed me respect and was conscientious about putting in his time. Like Arnie, Nate could call someone cold, begin a pleasant conversation, and come away with what we needed. We’d had a conversation about honesty, and he’d seemed surprised that I considered his fictions in the line of duty to be lies. He definitely wanted to please me, and even asked me hesitantly if I’d prefer he wore a suit every day. I told him to dress comfortably, but to keep a coat and tie in his locker for occasions that warranted it.

  With those three done, I picked up Eddie’s folder. He was my best detective. I was proud of that, since I’d given him most of his training. Of course, he’d come to me with a natural ability. His friendship buoyed me through a lot of difficult spots. He was upbeat nearly all the time, but ready to cry with me when I hurt. I was surprised how difficult I found it to give a balanced view of his work. He was a little impulsive, but had a flair an
d instinct when it came to second-guessing criminals.

  I thought back over the last six months. I’d worked the first half of it side by side with Eddie: days of painfully pulling together scraps of evidence needed to make a case, hours of boring surveillance together, and moments of stark terror when shots were fired.

  After my promotion, I’d felt the gulf between us, but Eddie hadn’t needed discipline since I’d become his supervisor. He’d undergone a department investigation in July, after a shootout with a suspect in the case against Coastal Technology. He’d accepted the standard suspension in the days before the hearing and handled himself well when he testified. He was exonerated and didn’t complain about the mandatory counseling afterward.

  I could see him maturing. He was a better cop than he’d been six months before. He was still happy-go-lucky, but with a serious side he hadn’t had as a kid. He submitted to me in our profession the way Jennifer did in our marriage: willingly, with loyalty and love.

  It was hard to write an evaluation of a guy like that and not make it sound too good. His weak points were disappearing on me. Finally, I printed the report for Mike and attached a handwritten note: “Mike, I’m seeing a real maturing process in Eddie, and I’m having trouble spotting things I don’t like. Your comments?”

  When I spoke to Eddie about his evaluation, I praised him and told him frankly how much I appreciated his commitment.

  He said, “You’ve chewed me out enough times in the past, Harv. Maybe I’m finally learning some of the things you tried to teach me.”

  I met with Mike in his office on Friday about a new computer scam. They were becoming more frequent. In this one, the scammers were sending out email notices that looked very much as if they were from a popular software company. They offered updates on widely used programs for a small fee. But it was all fake, and the money went into an account Mike figured I could trace and shut down.