Duplicity

by Sara Rosett

  “I’m sure Ava will be able to help you out.”

  “You’re right.” A trickle of water ran down Zoe’s collar. “Let’s go over there.” Their hotel was several blocks away. They’d be soaked through by the time they got there. She darted under an awning of a clothing store and opened her messenger bag. “I have an umbrella.”

  Jack stood outside the shelter of the awning and turned up the collar of his jacket. She shifted over a step. “There’s room.” He joined her, water dripping from his hair onto his forehead as she shifted the contents of her bag. “Of course it’s under everything else—oh, here we go.”

  The area was nearly deserted—only a few pedestrians were out, and they looked like locals. An older man walked by with a Jack Russell terrier on a leash, then a woman carrying an armful of flowers and a string bag strode by. Jack watched both people as they passed, then swept his gaze around the street and the canal.

  Zoe unfastened the umbrella strap. “Still looking for Mr. Gray Ponytail?”

  “I’m not looking anymore.” Jack turned toward her, his back to the street. “Found him. Over my left shoulder, inside the bistro on the other side of the canal, at the table by the window.”

  “That’s just odd how he keeps showing up.” Zoe popped the umbrella open. “Let’s see if he’s up for a walk in the rain.”

  They set off for their hotel at a brisk pace, but the man didn’t follow them.

  Back at their hotel, Zoe came out of the bath, towel-drying her hair to find Jack standing out of sight beside the window, studying the street. “No sign of him.”

  “Why didn’t he follow us tonight?”

  “No need. He knows where we’re staying.”

  “I find that slightly disturbing. Do you think we should change hotels?”

  Jack let the edge of the curtain fall into place. “No. If we already had the couple of thousand euros you’re planning to get, we might consider it, but I think we’re fine where we are now.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” The thought of a man dogging their steps around a foreign city was disturbing, but if Jack said they were fine, then they were.

  Jack checked the display on his phone, then set it on the desk. “Did you get the money sorted out?”

  “Ava’s on it.” Zoe had contacted Ava as soon as they got to the room. “She said it shouldn’t be a problem; we’ll be able to pick it up by noon tomorrow. She sounded as if I’d asked her to order up a curry for us instead of a bundle of bank notes. So that’s fixed up. We’ll get the money, pick up Olive’s reports from Mallory, and then it’ll be full-on vacation mode. Oh wait, we’re not meeting Mallory until three tomorrow. We can do some sightseeing in the morning.” Zoe picked up the guidebook. “Where should we go tomorrow? The Rijksmuseum? We don’t need advance tickets like the Van Gogh Museum.”

  “Let’s figure it out tomorrow.” Jack came across the room to her. “You’re overdressed.”

  “I’m wrapped in a towel.”

  “I know.”

  “But what about the plan—the itinerary?” Zoe took the paper out of the guidebook and unfurled it. “We might miss something.”

  Jack plucked the paper from her hand and tossed it aside. “The beauty of a good plan is that it can be modified”—he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck—“as needed.”

  “Mmm . . . true. So you’re okay if we don’t see everything on your list? You have so many must-see places.”

  He raised his head. He’d been working his way across her collarbones, dropping kisses as he went. “You’re the only must on my list.”

  “Excellent. You know how I love flexible schedules.”

  The next morning, after a lazy breakfast in bed provided by room service, they decided the Rijksmuseum would be a good place to avoid the rain, which was still coming down, but in intermittent bursts rather than a steady downpour. Zoe enjoyed the contrast between the small, quiet Vermeer paintings that were flooded with clear light and the massive canvas of Rembrandt’s painting of the civil guard with its deep shadows. However, she wasn’t completely in tourist mode. Part of her thoughts were tied up with Woman in a White Fur. There was nothing new in the news on the missing painting, and she was concerned about the two thousand euros. It wasn’t every day that she waltzed into a foreign bank and picked up that much cash.

  After ambling through the cathedral-like atmosphere of the museum with its vaulted arches and stained-glass windows, they agreed they’d seen everything they wanted to and headed for the exit. They were crossing the modern and airy atrium when Zoe’s phone rang with a call from Ava. She snatched it up. “Is there a problem?”

  “Problem?”

  “With the funds?”

  “Oh no, that’s not why I was calling. Everything’s arranged.” Ava gave Zoe the name of the bank and address. “You can pick it up there within an hour. I’ll text you the information.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  “All in a day’s work.” Ava’s tone was matter-of-fact. “The reason I called is that I want to check with you about a potential client, a woman who will only speak to you. Of course, I told her you’re on holiday, but she was quite insistent. Farina Vee.”

  “Oh yes. I met her at the Janus Gallery. It was her artwork that was stolen along with Woman in a White Fur.”

  “Right. I hadn’t put that together. I knew I’d heard her name recently.”

  “I’ll call her.”

  “She refused to leave a number. In fact, she was quite huffy about it when I wouldn’t give your number to her. Her number was blocked, so I don’t know where she called from. I suspect she wants you to look for her paintings, but don’t worry. I’m not going to add anything else to your to-do list. I just wanted to check with you and see if you truly did know her. I’ll handle it if she calls back.”

  “I don’t mind speaking to her if she does call again.”

  “But you’re on holiday. Well, you’re supposed to be on holiday. Not making a good job of that, are you?”

  “We’ve seen the tulips, a museum, and toured a houseboat.”

  “Hmm . . . that does sound quite touristy, yet you need thousands of euros to complete a transaction for work. I think the lady doth protest too much.”

  “Unfortunately, thieves don’t take holidays.” Even small-time document thieves like Mallory.

  “So true. In fact, they do their best work when people go on holiday.”

  “It’s our bread-and-butter, so I won’t complain.”

  They emerged from the museum into the tunnel and road that ran through the center of the museum. With cyclists whipping through the tunnel beside them, they headed in the direction of the bank, which took them across the Museumplein, a spacious park ringed with museums. They took one of the paths in the direction of the Van Gogh Museum. With its exterior of smooth glass and curved walls, it was quite a contrast to the elaborate architecture of the Rijksmuseum, which was a mixture of Renaissance and Gothic with a roof line that made Zoe think of a French chateau.

  The Van Gogh Museum was on the far end of the space beyond a shallow reflecting pool that was dotted with circular planters filled with tulips. A line snaked out from the Van Gogh Museum shop and stretched beyond the shallow pool. “I’m glad we bought our tickets online.” Jack’s detailed plan for sightseeing meant he’d purchased the tickets weeks ago.

  They stopped for a quick lunch at the food stalls near the museum, then headed for the bank, which was a few blocks off the Museumplein. Everything went smoothly. Zoe shoved the bank notes deep into her messenger bag, wondering what strings Ava—or Harrington—had pulled to have that amount of cash available on short notice. They had just enough time to hop on a tram that took them across the city to the stop near the canal where Mallory’s houseboat was anchored.

  As the tram glided away, Zoe put on her sunglasses. The clouds had completely dispersed. “Our gray-headed friend isn’t with us today. I haven’t seen him all m
orning.”

  “Neither have I,” Jack said as they walked along the canal. “He must have lost interest in us.”

  “Odd that he’d disappear, though,” Zoe said as they arrived at the houseboat. The hatch was open, and Zoe crossed the gangplank. She was walking along the narrow passageway to the deck at the front of the houseboat when Mallory’s head popped up through the opening, her jaw clenched. “Came back to gloat, did you?”

  Zoe halted as Mallory stormed toward her.

  “Well, that was foolish. You should have left when you had the chance.” She came at Zoe and hit both her shoulders, shoving Zoe backward into Jack. “Give them back.”

  14

  Zoe fell back against Jack’s chest. She wasn’t in danger of falling, especially as Jack’s arm encircled her waist and braced her, but she still grabbed the waist-high rope that lined the passageway and steadied herself. “What are you talking about?”

  Jack eased around Zoe. Mallory faded back a step, but the cold fury on her face didn’t change. “Some nerve you have. Coming back here after what you did.”

  Zoe moved forward, wedging her body beside Jack on the narrow space of the boat’s passageway. “What are you talking about?”

  “The papers.” Mallory surged forward, her fists clenched. “You stole them.”

  “What?” Zoe said. “We did no such thing!”

  “Of course you’d deny it.”

  “We came here to pay you for them.” Zoe tossed back the flap of the messenger bag. Jack reached out to stop her, but Zoe was quicker and angled the bag so Mallory could see the wad of bank notes bulging out of an envelope at the bottom.

  The sight seemed to penetrate the haze of anger that surrounded Mallory. Zoe snapped the bag closed and shifted it so that it hung over her hip on the side where Jack was pressed against her.

  Mallory’s state of paralysis lasted only a few seconds. She surged into Zoe’s face. “I don’t believe you. You’re the only one who’s interested in them. The day after you ask about them, someone breaks in and steals them.”

  Jack stepped forward. “We didn’t take them. Would we be here, cash in hand, ready to pay for them if we did?” A sulky look crossed her face as Jack continued. “Why would we come back if we had what we wanted?”

  Zoe said, “I understand you’re upset, but we didn’t take them. Could they have been misplaced?” It wouldn’t be hard for a couple of papers to disappear into the mess of the cabin and not be found for ages.

  “No. I know exactly where they were. I had them all ready to go. I left them on the desk chair this morning before I left for work. Rolf wouldn’t move them. He never uses the desk.”

  Jack said, “Are you sure they were taken this morning?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  Rolf emerged from the hatch, his hair even more disheveled than it had been yesterday. His stubble was thicker, edging toward a full-on beard. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and held a half-eaten sandwich. The aroma of marijuana reached them at the same time he did.

  “Tell them, Rolf.”

  “What?”

  “About the papers.”

  “You’re still going on about that?”

  Zoe hadn’t been able to distinguish from his muttered single-word greeting yesterday if he was British like Mallory, but now she could hear his faint Dutch accent. He spoke excellent English—as did most of the Dutch she’d met—but his words contained the same lilt and cadence she’d heard from the hotel clerk and their waitresses.

  “Yes, I’m going on about that.” Mallory jerked her head toward Zoe and Jack. “They were going to pay for them—two thousand euros, remember?”

  He’d lifted the sandwich to take a bite but paused with it inches from his mouth. “Two thous—you never said that.”

  “Yes, I did. I told you last night. You weren’t, like, paying attention, as usual.”

  Rolf turned to Zoe and Jack. “Two thousand?”

  Jack nodded.

  Rolf said, “Oh, man. I never would have gone out if I’d known that.” He cut his gaze to Mallory.

  She glared back. “I did tell you. I put them on the desk chair and told you not to move them.”

  Jack’s deep tones cut into their argument as he addressed Rolf. “Did you notice the papers this morning?”

  “No. All I know is that after Mallory left for work, I went out for a proper coffee. When I came back, the hatch was open. I just thought I’d forgotten to close it.”

  “Was anything else missing or disturbed?” Considering the messy state of the houseboat’s living quarters, it was a long shot, but Zoe had to ask.

  “No. Everything looked just as it always does.” Rolf sent a dark look at Mallory. “I didn’t notice a couple of pieces of paper were gone.”

  Mallory drew a breath to respond, but Jack cut in. “Have you had any unexpected visitors lately? People you don’t know?”

  “You.” Mallory shot back.

  “Besides us,” Zoe said. “Maybe a repairman or a delivery person, or even a city employee checking a meter? Something like that?” Did they have utility meters on houseboats? Zoe had no idea, but the question sparked something for Rolf.

  “There was that tourist earlier today. He asked if he could tour the houseboat.”

  “We get that sometimes,” Mallory said. “So rude, you know?”

  “What did he look like?” Zoe asked.

  Rolf waved the sandwich. “Just a guy—older.”

  Zoe leaned forward. “Hair color?”

  “Um, gray, I think. It was hard to see it. It was pulled back in a ponytail.” Rolf pointed his sandwich at them. “And he was American.”

  Jack said, “And this was earlier today, you said?”

  “Yes. Right before I left to get coffee.”

  Zoe exchanged a look with Jack, then reached for another one of her cards. “If the guy—or the papers—turn up, give me a call, please.”

  As Zoe and Jack walked away from the houseboat, Zoe said, “Let’s cross over to the other side.”

  “And check the café where we saw Mr. Gray Ponytail last night?” At Zoe’s nod, Jack said, “My thoughts exactly.”

  The café was quiet. Only a few customers were scattered around the tables, and none of them were sporting ponytails of any shade. Zoe turned to Jack. “So this hotel where Mr. Gray Ponytail was staying . . . you said it was near the train station?”

  When the multistory parking area for bikes came into view near the train station, Jack said, “Almost there. What did you think of Mallory and Rolf’s story?”

  “About the papers being stolen? I think they’re telling the truth. Her anger seemed genuine. She really did want the money.”

  “I agree. And Rolf didn’t seem to know or care about them.”

  “But apparently he would have, if he’d understood their potential value.”

  A few more turns brought them into a narrow street with tall houses, some of them leaning slightly off-center. “This one.” Jack led the way to a building with a plaque that read Amsterdam Plaza North Hotel. Without pausing in the lobby, he went directly to the elevator and punched in the button for the fourth floor.

  Zoe raised an eyebrow. “You know which floor Mr. Gray Ponytail is on?”

  “I know more than the floor. I know his room number.”

  “Impressive.”

  “If I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it thoroughly.”

  He grinned at her, and she knew he was thinking of other things. “Thoroughness is an excellent quality to have.”

  The elevator dinged. The doors opened, Jack gave a cautious look up and down the corridor, then they stepped out. “He’s in room 410.”

  The housekeeping cart was parked outside of room 408, and the maid was working in the room with the door propped open. They eased around the cart, slowing as they came even with the next doorway. Someone inside was talking, but it was impossible to distinguish the words.

  “Sounds like a guy,” Zoe said in
a low voice.

  Jack nodded and tilted his head toward the elevator. “We shouldn’t hang out here too long.”

  “Right.” She followed him for a few steps as they turned back the way they’d come, then Zoe halted.

  “Zoe?”

  “Sorry.” She drew her gaze away from the room where the maid was working and caught up with him. “I have an idea.”

  Downstairs in the lobby, Zoe went to the front desk and asked for a room. Jack joined her as Zoe leaned over the tall counter. “But not just any room. We want room 408.”

  “You want to stay in a specific room?”

  “Yes. 408.”

  “We have quite a few rooms that are better situated.”

  She sent Jack her most blinding smile. “But room 408 has special memories for us.”

  Jack picked up on her cue and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  The clerk consulted the monitor. “In that case . . . that particular room is being cleaned right now, but if you’re willing to wait . . .”

  “That’s fine. We’ll be in those chairs over there in the corner.”

  The clerk glanced at the bellboy stationed at the door. “And your luggage?”

  “Delayed,” Jack said. “It will be along soon.”

  As they moved to the chairs, Jack whispered. “Your glibness is rather frightening.” He reached for her hand as they sat down. “We’d better at least hold hands—to keep up our cover.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

  “Did you put this room on our credit card, or will your expense account cover a second hotel room?”

  “Oh, I think Harrington will see the benefit of it. If Mallory’s telling the truth—and I think she is—then she did have Olive’s reports and someone stole them from her. The only person who’s been interested in us and has been hanging around Mallory’s houseboat is Mr. Gray Ponytail.”