“You didn’t know, Ma. Maybe we can do something to help.”
“Maybe.” Carlita had turned to go when Mercedes stopped her.
“Wait. Check it out.”
A balding man dressed in a business suit approached Astrid. They stood talking under the streetlight for several long moments before the man handed something to her.
“He handed her something,” Carlita said. “Quick. Take a picture of him…of them.”
Mercedes lifted her phone and snapped several pictures. “It looks like he’s handing her money.”
“Why would a man in a business suit hand money to what appears to be a homeless person after dark? Wouldn’t he be afraid of being robbed and attacked?” Mercedes whispered.
“You would think so.” Carlita never took her eyes off them. “Unless…they knew each other. Watch their body language. This isn’t the first time these two have met.”
“You’re right. We need to find out who this man is.”
The exchange lasted for another few minutes before the man left. Astrid watched him walk away. She glanced at the side of the building before shifting her backpack and began making her way toward them.
“Hide.” Mother and daughter dove behind a stack of storage crates.
Carlita’s heart beat loudly as Astrid passed mere feet from where they were hiding. The women remained motionless for several long moments before emerging from their hiding spot.
Mercedes started to turn toward home, and Carlita reached for her arm. “No. I want to check out what’s inside the dumpster. I have a feeling it belongs to the museum, and this is where the museum’s café dumps their scraps.”
Mercedes turned her cell phone’s light on while Carlita hoisted herself up and peered over the side. As she suspected, it was full of empty food boxes, to-go containers and scraps of food.
“Astrid was eating from the dumpster.” Carlita hopped off the ledge and wiped her hands on the back of her slacks. “I left a cooler of food by her tent this morning, but there must be something more we can do to help.”
“Let’s go home.” Mercedes turned to go when she caught a movement near the perimeter of the fence. It was a woman this time. She glared at them.
Carlita gave her a small wave. “We better get out of here. Looks like one of the museum’s employees spotted us and is giving us the evil eye. She probably thinks we’re the ones digging through the dumpster.”
Back at the apartment, Carlita turned her computer on while Mercedes forwarded the pictures to her mother’s email.
She opened the email and then they both leaned in for a closer look. “The man is handing something to Astrid. It’s hard to see what it is from this angle.”
Carlita studied his face. “He looks familiar.”
“Check the museum’s website. They may have a directory of the staff.”
“Good idea.” Carlita opened a new search screen. She typed in Darbylane Museum and Estate. The website popped up.
“There.” Mercedes pointed to the top of the screen.
Carlita clicked on the About Us and then the Museum Staff tabs at the top. She began scrolling through the list of pictures and titles. She abruptly stopped, her heart skipping a beat. “Well…will you look at that?”
Chapter 17
“Gaston Spelling, Darbylane Museum’s curator,” Carlita read the description. “Autumn and I met this man the other day.”
“And this is also the man we saw handing Astrid money.”
“Maybe.” Carlita flipped between the picture of Gaston Spelling and the grainy image of the man they’d spotted earlier talking with Astrid. “There are many similarities. Obviously, whoever it was came from the direction of the museum.”
Mercedes peered over her mother’s shoulder. “It’s him. I would bet my life on it. Maybe he was being nice. He found out she’s homeless and has been digging through the dumpster for food, so he’s giving her money.”
“At night, after hours and in the dark? It’s possible, but I doubt it.”
“Click on the sitemap,” Mercedes said. “There, the exhibition floors.”
The women scrolled through the screen. “There’s nothing here.”
“What about the gardens?” Mercedes asked. “We haven’t scoped out the gardens yet.”
Carlita clicked on the tab titled Gardens, but the page was blank. “I never thought to check out the grounds while we were there. After Autumn hurt her ankle and Elvira and Dernice were camped out in the porta potty, we took off.”
“Porta potty?” Mercedes burst out laughing.
“You had to have been there.” Carlita rubbed her chin. “I remember seeing a small cottage near the corner of the property. The cottage might be the groundskeeper’s place.”
“The woman who came out and scowled at us is the groundskeeper? I’m sure they’re spooked, what with the theft, not to mention Astrid hanging around there all of the time.” Mercedes had a thought. “Go back to the Museum Staff. Is there any information about a groundskeeper?”
Carlita clicked on the link. At the bottom of the list was a picture of a man, Henry Cagle, Caretaker. “Henry Cagle.” Next to the man’s photo was a picture of a gray-haired woman, a solemn expression on her face. “Mabel Cagle. These are the caretakers. I think this is the woman who was standing next to the fence scowling at us.”
“Yes,” Mercedes agreed. “That’s her. I recognize the look on her face. So now what?”
“I’m thinkin’.” Carlita drummed her fingers on the desk. “I’m thinkin’ something fishy is going on at the museum. They hired Elvira and EC Security Services for the exhibit event…and on the busiest day, after everyone leaves, the valuable painting goes missing. Dernice has a criminal record. Even if Elvira ‘fudged’ the information and didn’t mention Dernice, something is off.”
“And it doesn’t help that you were there sneaking in the back with Elvira, not to mention being caught on camera sneaking into the storage area,” Mercedes pointed out.
“Dummy me. It was a stupid move on my part,” Carlita said. “Now look at the mess we’re in.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too badly, Ma.”
“If I get out of this mess, mark my words…it won’t happen again. Back to the missing artwork. Here comes Astrid, hired by Elvira, who knows the woman is lying about her identity. In fact, Elvira meets her after finding her digging around inside the dumpster behind the museum. We follow her back to the museum. She’s scrounging around for something to eat despite me leaving food for her. A man we suspect may be the museum’s curator hands her something.”
“I agree…you may be onto something,” Mercedes said.
Carlita swiveled around. “Astrid isn’t letting her backpack out of her sight. Dernice even made a comment about how when she tried to move it, Astrid flew off the handle and freaked out.”
“How large is the missing artwork?” Mercedes asked.
“About this big.” Carlita held her hands out. “It’s small enough to fit inside a backpack.”
“So you think Astrid has the artwork.” Mercedes began to pace. “What if she stole the artwork for someone working at the museum and is hanging onto it until the heat is off? She turns it over to whoever she’s working for in exchange…”
“…for money,” Carlita and Mercedes said in unison.
“There’s a reason Astrid is hanging around the museum. We need to get our hands on her backpack.”
“But how? You said it never leaves her side,” Mercedes said.
“I’m going to do some thinking on that. If Astrid is responsible for swiping the painting, she has an accomplice - someone who knows the value of the painting and may even have black market connections to sell it once the investigation dies down.”
“An employee, someone who works at the museum.”
Carlita reached for a yellow pad of paper and pen. “We need to make a list of suspects.” She scribbled A Piece of Renaissance Suspects at the top of the page. “At the top of the list is
Astrid. She’s lying; she’s hiding something and keeps returning to the museum.”
“Next would be the museum curator…the man we saw handing something to Astrid.”
“Right.” Carlita wrote his name below Astrid’s and consulted the staff list. “This woman, Elizabeth Portsmith, Director of Riverfront Historical Society. The one we met earlier today who coincidentally knows a whole lot about the police investigation.”
“She does,” Mercedes agreed. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yes, it would.” Carlita added her name to the list. “Elvira also mentioned a young woman who was working the front desk, checking bags the day of the big event. She would have access to anyone and everyone’s personal belongings, perhaps even the thief’s belongings.”
“Would you consider her a suspect?” Mercedes asked.
“I would, considering she had access to visitors’ belongings and certain areas of the museum, at least during the daytime hours. Suspect the least suspect.”
“Not to mention motive and opportunity. All four of them had motive and opportunity…Astrid, Gaston Spelling, the Portsmith lady. I guess we should include the clerk, too.”
“And Elvira/Dernice.” Carlita drew a fill-in-the-blank line for the employee’s name and then added the sisters’ names. “They would have to be clever, not to mention lucky, to get the painting off the premises.”
“Which is why the woman who was working that day is also a suspect. She could be an accomplice, returning after hours to help swipe the painting.”
Mercedes tapped her mother’s arm. “What if the painting hasn’t left the premises? What if it’s still there…somewhere?”
“Elvira suggested the same thing.” Carlita shifted her gaze, staring sightlessly out the French doors. “We need someone to go back in, to visit the museum and the grounds. I can’t do it. Autumn is off the list.”
“But I’m not,” Mercedes said. “I could run over there and have a look around.”
“No.” Carlita dismissed the suggestion. “I think it should be someone else.”
“What about Tony and Shelby? We could offer to watch the pawnshop tomorrow for a few hours while they take Violet to the museum. No one would look twice at a couple with a young child if they say…wandered into restricted areas.”
“That’s a great idea, Mercedes. No one would ever suspect a nice little family of snooping around. Now, all we have to do is get Tony onboard.”
Before heading to bed, Carlita sent a text message to Tony’s cell phone to ask if Shelby was going to be home tomorrow. He replied that she was.
Carlita told him she had a special favor to ask in the morning and it involved Shelby and Violet. She ended the text reply by telling him she would see him in the morning.
She switched her cell phone off and set it on the nightstand before turning off her bedroom lamp. It took hours for her to fall asleep. She thought about Astrid, wondering if the woman was involved in the painting’s theft. If she was in it for cash, perhaps she had been key in securing the painting in exchange for a large sum of money…enough to buy her plane ticket to Paris.
There was something to the backpack. Perhaps Carlita should alert the authorities to her suspicions, and then they could search Astrid’s belongings, but even a simple search would require a warrant.
There was another conundrum…what would she tell the authorities? She was following the woman around, found her digging in the dumpster behind the museum and saw a man hand her something?
They would wonder why Carlita was following her. She was already a suspect. She tossed and turned, torn between contacting Detective Wilson and Detective Polivich and running the risk of heaping even more suspicion on her head - or hold off until she had a better idea if Elvira’s employee was involved.
She finally decided to wait until Tony, Shelby and Violet finished their tour of the museum and gardens before making a decision.
Perhaps then, she would have a better idea of how someone could’ve pulled off the theft, giving her a clearer picture of what may have happened.
With a decision made, Carlita finally drifted off to sleep…now all she had to do was convince Tony to go along with her plan.
*****
“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Tony shook his head. “The cops are hot on the case. Polivich and his men were in here the other day tearing this place apart. If we show up at the museum, they’re going to think something is up.”
“I disagree. Besides, it’s not against the law to visit a museum,” Carlita said.
“What’s wrong with a cozy little family outing?” Mercedes chimed in. “The gardens look lovely.”
“I would like to go, Tony. Your mother is right. We’re not committing a crime by visiting the museum,” Shelby said.
“They even have a café on the grounds. You could visit the museum, the gardens and have lunch,” Carlita enticed.
“I want to go.” Violet hopped up and down on one foot as she tugged on Tony’s hand.
He chuckled. “You want to look at a bunch of boring old paintings?”
“And pretty flowers,” Shelby added.
The couples’ eyes met, which was all it took for Tony to cave. “Fine. We’ll go, but don’t ask me to sneak into backrooms and stuff.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. We need someone to take a closer look at the grounds,” Carlita beamed. “Reese and the trolley will be along shortly. If you leave now, you’ll have enough time to grab your things and head out.”
She followed her son and his family to the door. “Don’t worry about us. It’s good for Mercedes and me to handle business around here and give you a break.”
“Are you sure?” Tony’s steps slowed.
“I promise.” Carlita nudged him toward the door. “We’ll be fine.” She waited until they were gone and the door was shut. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”
“Tony doesn’t like to leave the pawnshop,” Mercedes said. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to convince Shelby to move into his bachelor pad so he could stay close to this place.”
“Speaking of bachelor pad, any news on the potential writer tenant?”
“Her agent is stopping by today to tour the unit.”
A customer walked in interrupting the conversation. The morning passed by quickly while Carlita kept a keen eye on the clock. The museum wasn’t large and the gardens, although sprawling, wouldn’t take long to tour.
Mercedes joined her mother near the back of the store. “You’re wondering what happened to them.”
“Yeah. I figured the visit would take a coupla hours, tops.”
“They were also going to have lunch,” Mercedes pointed out.
“True. As long as they’re enjoying themselves, I guess I shouldn’t worry.”
A young man stepped into the pawnshop and approached the counter. “Hello. I’m here to meet with someone to tour an efficiency apartment.”
“That’s me.” Mercedes turned to her mother. “Will you be okay by yourself if I show him around the unit?”
“Yes. Go on ahead.”
They left, and Carlita wandered to the front, peering anxiously out the window as she watched for the trolley and her family.
Had she inadvertently placed them in harm’s way? She immediately dismissed the thought. The museum was open to the public. No one would suspect the nice little family. Not that she had asked them to do anything other than have a look around the museum and grounds and maybe even snap a few pictures.
She glanced at the wall clock for the umpteenth time. They had been gone a long time now, and Carlita had a bad feeling something had gone awry.
Chapter 18
Violet broke away from Shelby’s grasp to admire a flowering bush. Her mother gently guided her back onto the sidewalk. “We’ll visit the gardens in a little while.”
“Can I pick a flower for Nana?”
“No. We mustn’t pick the flowers.” Shelby held her daughter’s hand tightly as t
hey climbed the steps and followed Tony onto Darbylane Museum’s front porch.
The doorbell chimed, announcing their arrival.
Tony led his family to the counter. “Hello. We would like three tickets for a tour of the museum and gardens.”
“Children twelve and under are free. Adults are ten dollars each.”
He handed the employee a twenty. She held out three tickets. “This covers the cost of touring both the exhibits and grounds. Would you like a map?”
“No,” Tony shook his head.
“Yes,” Shelby said.
“I guess we would,” Tony smiled.
The woman handed Shelby a map and Tony the tickets.
“Thank you.” He waited until they entered the first exhibit area. “You need a map for us to find our way around? This place is small.”
“Your mother will want to see the map,” Shelby said.
“I’m surprised she didn’t grab one the last time she was here.”
“Probably because she told them she didn’t need one,” Shelby joked.
Violet skipped to the center of the room and a rectangular Plexiglas display case. “What’s this?”
“It’s a scale model of old Savannah,” Tony said. “I think I see our building.”
The trio leaned in.
“I see it, too.” Shelby pointed to a replica of their building. “Violet, that’s our house.”
Violet pressed her nose against the side of the case. “We live there.”
They circled the room and Shelby stopped occasionally to study the artwork. “I don’t think I could come up with something this creative.” She pointed to the piece, Paralysis of Dreams.
“What is it?” Tony peered at the painting, the silhouette of a man’s side profile; his eyes squeezed shut and a look of pain on his face. Large bolts jutted out from both sides of his forehead. A dribble of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. “That’s disturbing.”
Swiped in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 12) Page 13
