Triple Threat

by Jan Coffey

  She went down another step.

  Ray Claiborne was Lou’s fence. He was a deal maker. He knew everyone. He had a steady business going in the art and antique world, and he was generous. He had always been nice to Ellie, so she went to him begging.

  Ray had no use for a twelve-year-old girl. He was not a pimp, and he had little interest in charity work. Ellie talked him into giving her a room in exchange for doing work for him. She was smart, hardworking, loyal and a quick learner. He agreed, if only because he knew he owed her father for keeping quiet about him.

  Ellie descended to the next step.

  She started stealing for him—small jobs at first, but then larger ones. Ray was the middleman, and he took no personal risks. Sometimes he made the contacts; other times he’d give her a heads-up on a solo job. Either way, he was protected. Then he’d liquidate the property himself afterward.

  She was arrested only once. She was sixteen. She shut her mouth and they gave her two years in the juvenile detention center. Two years.

  Ellie stood on the landing halfway down and blinked back the tears that were blurring her vision. Those were her two years in hell.

  When she got out of the can, she went to see Lou in jail. He treated her as if she was the biggest disappointment of his life—like she’d had a choice in becoming a thief.

  Ellie went down another step.

  Ray Claiborne was happy to take her back, but she didn’t want to steal anymore. He started her on other jobs. Learning the business of dealing antiques. Working in auction houses. She learned fast, focused on the job and became good at it. Later on, Ray started Ellie in her own business.

  She took another step.

  She was financially secure by the time Lou came out of jail. She’d wanted him to come and live with her—to be part of her life—but he wouldn’t have anything to do with her. He told her once point-blank that he didn’t have a daughter.

  By the time Ellie reached the bottom step, she had to scramble in her pocket for a tissue. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

  Lou’s basement apartment was empty. Ellie told herself she was here to mend things, not to stir up a pot full of hurt. Sometime this year, thanks to Sister Helen’s intervention, they’d started talking a little. They would tolerate each other in the same room. It wasn’t enough, Ellie told herself again. She was here because she wanted more.

  Ray had done a lot for her, but he’d always stressed that their relationship was business. Lou, on the other hand, was the only father—the only family—she had ever had.

  There were a number of frames high in the bookcases that drew her into the apartment. She’d spotted them the last time she was here, when she’d been sitting on the steps and talking about forgeries with Nate, Sister Helen and her father. But from that far away, she couldn’t tell who was in the pictures.

  She was surprised to find they were pictures of her as a kid. There was about an inch of dust on each frame. Ellie scanned the bookcases and then moved to the canvas on the easel in the corner. She walked around it and smiled. He’d been painting this room, but he’d made the walls into endless vistas of field and forest and the ceiling into a blue, cloud-dotted sky.

  A thick photo album was sitting on a table next to his ratty old easy chair. Ellie was always fascinated by photo albums. They occasionally came her way through estate sales and auctions. She’d never known enough people to put together one herself. She sat on her father’s chair and opened it on her lap.

  The first page was startlingly empty, except for a tiny newspaper clipping of a hospital birth notice.

  This was a vision from a dream. Lou didn’t want to make a noise. Ellie was bent over the one possession he truly valued—the scrapbook of her.

  He’d gone through it so many times that he knew exactly what was pasted on each page. The funny sketches from the time when she’d been little more than a toddler. The report cards from elementary school. The handmade birthday and Christmas cards that Ellie had given him when she’d been little. He hadn’t stopped adding to his collection. He also had recent clippings of her giving a class at some school, or being one of the organizers for one project or another. His latest addition had been a copy of an interview a local magazine had done with Ellie about her business. Lou had been damned proud the way she’d come across—smart, savvy, involved in the community, compassionate. Damned proud.

  When she was a child, Lou had considered her a gift from heaven. She was smart as a whip, never complained, took care of herself and him. And God knows, he didn’t deserve her. He was no father. How badly he’d let her down as a child and then even worse later on, when she’d just been released from the detention center.

  He tried to swallow around the lump caused by his lifelong failure with her. He would have been content to stand on the stairs all night and just watch her cuddled up on that bench in his room. But the moment he saw her wipe the tears off her face, he couldn’t take it anymore. He descended the rest of the steps.

  Ellie lifted her head from the album, and she quickly closed it and jumped to her feet. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He shook his head.

  She put the album back on the bench and wiped her palms on the seat of her pants. “We just got back a little while ago.”

  “How was your weekend?”

  His question seemed to throw her off a minute. “It was…nice. Very nice. I met Nate’s family.”

  “Are they anything like him?”

  “Very much.” She smiled.

  “That’s good. I like him.” He opened his fridge and looked inside. “I have beer and chocolate milk. Do you still drink the stuff?”

  “Sure. I love chocolate milk.”

  “I didn’t know if you still did or not.” Lou felt his heart growing warm. “But I’ve been buying these for a while—in case you happened to come down.” He tossed her a carton.

  She caught it and looked at the bottom. “They do have an expiration date on these things.”

  “I throw them away every couple of weeks and buy new ones.” He took a glass out of the cabinet next to the fridge and offered it to her. “I would never do anything to hurt you again, Ellie.”

  She put the glass down and walked into his arms.

  “I know, Dad.”

  “Are you serious about putting the kid into the witness protection program?” Hawes’s tone was doubtful at best.

  “There’s been an attempt on his life. That’s a good enough reason for me,” Nate said into the phone.

  “But there’s no proof of that. You said yourself that nobody else saw anyone push him. Another kid could have bumped him from behind. There are hundreds of ways to explain—”

  “Listen to me, Sanford,” Nate said more forcefully. “The boy says he saw a gadget of some kind on the frame that held the Schuyler flag. That was the same incendiary device that our people found remnants of later. There’s no way he could lie about that. More important, Chris believes he can identify the security guard who was in there. He even thinks he might be able to narrow down what the two guys who’d been chasing after him looked like. Don’t you think that’s reason enough to protect him?”

  “Of course it is,” Hawes barked. “If it’s true. But he’s changed his story from a week ago, and I just have a feeling he might be pulling our legs.”

  “But you’ll start the ball rolling on it,” Nate pressed.

  “Okay, goddammit. I’ll start the paperwork. But you have got to focus on bringing that fucking flag back this week.”

  “Wednesday. I told you before, we’re going up there this Wednesday.”

  “Good. I’ll arrange to have the kid picked up in a couple of hours.”

  “By the way…” Nate grimaced before continuing. “Chris won’t be alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of the nuns—her name is Sister Lisa—she’s agreed to go and stay with Chris for a while until we get him settled.”

  After a moment of dead silence, a stream of
obscenities exploded from the receiver.

  “Sister Lisa goes with him,” Nate insisted a few seconds later.

  “I can’t!” Hawes blasted again. “I can’t drag any more civilians into this. I’ll send a goddamn female agent, if I have to. I’ll drag that drugged-out slut of a mother of his out of that trailer and bring her along. But no fucking nuns.”

  Nate walked to the door of the living room and glanced up the stairs. Chris was sitting on the top step, his baseball hat on, a zippered gym bag on his lap. An unopened box of Lucky Charms was tucked under his arm. Ellie appeared at the top of the stairs and sat down next to the boy.

  Nate was not going to lose this one.

  “No, Hawes. Forget that I made the suggestion. I’ll take care of it.” Nate backed into the room before talking into the phone again.

  “You have an assignment that takes precedence over any—”

  “I’ll get him local protection until the flag is in our hands. Chris can lie low here in Philly until I’m done with the assignment. We can run the pictures and suspects and everything else by the kid afterward.”

  “Nate!”

  “I’m doing my job, Sanford. We’ll get the flag and handle the details of this later.”

  “Nate!”

  “Forget it. We’ll talk about this next week,” Nate said, disconnecting the phone.

  Twenty-Five

  Wednesday, June 30

  The limo sped along the ribbon of highway from the train station in Kingston toward Newport. The trip to Rhode Island had been uneventful, and Ellie stared out at the towers of the Newport Bridge, rising far above the white-fringed waters of the Narragansett Bay.

  She hadn’t seen Nate since he took Chris from Sister Helen’s on Monday night. He’d called her three times since then, but the conversations each time had been short and to the point. Nate was not offering any specifics about Chris, and Ellie understood why. She’d seen enough movies to know how the witness protection program worked.

  As upset as she was to see Chris go, she understood the danger he was in. The night at Teasdale’s house was still fresh in her memory. Nate believed Theo Atwood’s death might be related, too…and no accident. Ellie asked no questions when he called.

  On the train ride from Philly, she spent a lot of time thinking about Nate’s conspiracy theory. He believed the same group of people who had destroyed the flag were trying to stop them from replacing it now with a forgery. This gave her a lot to think about.

  In the collector’s world, one remaining artifact of this magnitude was much better than two. The value of the remaining item generally rocketed upward, and its owner profited by the destruction of the other. But if that was what was going on here, then Nate’s theory didn’t make sense to her. Ellie couldn’t imagine the owner of the remaining Betsy Ross flag being the culprit, because the value would only go up if the interested collectors knew that the other artifact had been destroyed. In this case, there hadn’t even been whispers in the wind about the loss of the Schuyler flag. That meant someone else had to be benefiting. But who? It didn’t make sense.

  There was very little traffic on the bridge, and it was about three when the limo crossed the causeway leading out to Goat Island and pulled up in front of the hotel. The suite Ellie had booked for them was ready, but Nate had yet to appear.

  Kathleen Rivers, the blond collector she’d met at Ray’s party, arrived right behind her, sweeping into the lobby with three bellhops in tow. Unable to avoid her, Ellie had to make some small talk before peeling the woman off.

  There were no messages waiting for her in the suite. Ellie turned off the air-conditioning, opened all the windows in the two-story unit and let the ocean breeze rush in. The blue of the sky with its puffs of clouds scudding by reminded her of Lou’s painting. For the first time ever, her father had dropped by the shop yesterday morning. The two of them still had a long road ahead, but now Ellie felt they had a chance. She blinked back tears and moved about the spacious bedroom, putting her luggage away.

  Ten minutes later she was standing by the open window again, watching the sailboats and yachts on the bay. She went back inside. She couldn’t sit still. She knew a large part of her restlessness had to do with not seeing Nate. They’d become so close in such a short time. She’d been a loner all her life, and yet now she craved his company around the clock.

  She explored the suite—a single king-size bed, a spacious bathroom easily accommodating two, a spiral staircase leading to a generous sitting area with a wet bar. Ellie couldn’t wait for him to get here.

  There was a knock, and Ellie practically ran to open the door. A valet delivered an envelope. Inside, there was an invitation for seven o’clock at a private address in Newport for the preview of the property to be auctioned. She glanced at her watch and hoped Nate was on schedule.

  It was preposterous to have him go to Newport, but then stay in a hotel like some tourist. Ray glanced with distaste at the run-of-the-mill furniture. Whoever designed these places should be shot. Sipping his drink, he walked to the window overlooking the pool. No wonder these hotels changed hands every few years. It was insulting.

  The boring affair was to be at seven. He looked across the causeway leading from town. The harbor was filled with yachts and sailboats, and the town of Newport, with its steeples and clapboard and redbrick, lay beyond. He considered calling an old friend or two and setting something up after the preview.

  From experience he knew, though, that he would just be opening the waterworks. After that, there’d be no end to the calls and invitations and parties. Bad idea, he decided. His client wouldn’t like that at all. Kathleen would feel deserted for the three days that they were stuck in this place.

  Ray’s attitude improved a little when he saw Ellie walk into the pool area and sit down on a lounge chair. There wasn’t another soul by the pool, and she dumped a pile of newspapers onto the chair beside her. He waited for Nate to follow her in, but there was no sign of him.

  “Where there’s honey, boys and girls,” he said out loud, “the bee is never far off.”

  Refilling his drink, he started down to the pool.

  The “city by the sea” had too much to offer on such a beautiful day for the tourists to be hanging around the pool. The beaches, the shops, the restaurants were all prepared for the holiday weekend onslaught, and the early birds were no doubt reaping the rewards. Although Ellie certainly had no interest in going into town or going to the beach, she was too wound up—and worried about Nate—to sit in their room.

  She almost groaned aloud when she saw Ray amble into the pool area. She resigned herself to being civil, however, and moved the papers for him as he came over.

  “Am I forgiven?”

  Dressed fashionably for the occasion as always, he stood in front of her with his head bent to the side. Ellie would have loved to rip into him good for his inappropriate comments the other day, but she was well accustomed to the older man’s fleeting moods. There was really no point in it.

  “Are you going swimming?” she asked, evading the question.

  “What for?” He put his drink on a table and sat down on the lounge chair next to hers. “I’m sure the water is freezing, and I have no audience to show off the cut of my new swim trunks.”

  “No audience?” she asked good-naturedly. “What am I?”

  “Unfortunately, a woman.” He gave a dramatic sigh and stretched his legs on the chair. “So where’s your man?”

  Ellie forced herself to count, breathe, and then answer. He hadn’t said anything demeaning…yet. “He hasn’t arrived. But I expect him any minute.”

  “My client, Kathleen Rivers, is here.” He sipped his drink.

  “I saw her in the lobby.”

  “Yes, she’s impossible to miss. Quite eye-catching and very much the shrewd businesswoman, I’m finding.”

  “You certainly can’t hold that against her.” She glanced at Ray’s pensive expression. “She picked you, Ray. That certainly gains
her a few points.”

  “Yes, but she is also pushing up my expenses. Giving me last-minute headaches. She’s being very difficult.”

  “Maybe you should just tell her to forget it. You know, forget about the flag.”

  “Nice try, babycakes.” He saluted her and took another sip of his drink. “I wouldn’t be too quick to wish her away, if I were you. What she wants to do would serve your client well, too. And all the other rich amateurs who’ll be there tonight and haven’t a clue what they’re bidding on.”

  Ellie guessed he was talking about a way to confirm that the flag was genuine. Though she really didn’t think it appropriate to share the information with Ray or his client, she’d talked to Nate in Philadelphia about getting Dr. Wilcox from the Smithsonian flown in to Newport to verify the flag’s authenticity on the day of the auction. Of course, she first needed to get the seller’s approval, which she intended to do tonight. Nate was going to check with Wilcox.

  “Mrs. Rivers wants to bring an expert in?”

  Ray nodded. “Some dusty old Ph.D. from Penn. Two or three years ago he apparently published an article on the possibility of this flag still being around. Kathleen says that reading his article was what interested her in the first place. Anyway, she’s having me bring this guy up. If the creeps running the auction let us, our old boy gives it his stamp of approval or something.”

  “I can’t see why they’d be against it.”

  Ray shrugged. “We’ll find out tonight.”

  Ellie’s pulse bumped up a few beats when she saw Nate walk into the pool area. He was wearing khaki pants and a hunter-green polo shirt, and she guessed he’d just arrived.

  Ray followed the direction of her gaze. “Well, well, well. Isn’t he the sight for sore eyes?”

  At least they agreed on something.