He’d looked back just as steadily and replied, Because I want to know you.
Her emotional side had gone mushy before her practical side smacked it back in line. She was with Jack Sinclair for one purpose: to reclaim Le Mystère. Not to like him, not to get to know him, not to be flattered by his intimate looks or his flirting. All that was just part of the job, the means to the end. Her emotional side had to remember that.
You’re all emotion, Marley had once scoffed. You’re not the sort who uses someone else for your own gain.
“In this case, I am,” Lisette murmured as she crossed the parking lot to a silver midsize that looked like every other car on the road. It wasn’t dented or spotlessly clean; the windows had only the usual factory tint: there were no stickers proclaiming her university affiliation, her political beliefs or her sense of humor. It was totally unremarkable.
Just the way she needed to be when she was working. Last night she’d ignored that rule, and today she’d thought it had been a mistake. She had to be cool and in control to keep it from becoming one.
As soon as she left the parking lot, she called Padma. Her friend’s voice was tinged with excitement. “I’ve got the package, sweetie. Where do you want to meet?”
“How about behind Pecos Pete’s?”
“Oh, yum. Can we eat there after we visit Mrs. M?”
Her favorite Mexican food on a Friday night, then curling up with her tablet and a movie—sounded like a perfect evening. “Sure.” Then, because she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she said, “Guess who came to the museum and took me to lunch at Fire?”
Padma shrieked. “Are you kidding? Were you excited? Did you swoon?”
Lisette wasn’t sure whether Padma was talking about her reaction to Jack or to the restaurant. “I survived without swooning once. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet.”
“I can’t wait.”
Traffic was heavy, so Padma was waiting by the time Lisette pulled into the employee lot behind Pecos Pete’s. She parked beside the red car, slid out and into the passenger seat. Padma’s handbag was on the floor behind the console, and a large plastic bag filled with rolls of wrapping paper occupied the backseat. “What’s with the paper?”
Padma accelerated out of the parking lot about twenty miles an hour faster than safe before grinning at her. “Camouflage. Just to be safe.”
Lisette shook her head sadly. “Mom corrupted me. She corrupted you totally.”
Padma’s fine hair slapped around as she took a quick look before screeching from the parking lot across four lanes to reach the turn lane. “She didn’t corrupt me. She added to my arsenal of tools to use if ever I need them.” Grinning, she parroted Marley. “You can never have too many tools.”
And Marley had believed it. That was why Lisette could pick any lock she came across, had learned to hack most computer systems enough to help in an emergency, could cry on command and was conversant in seven languages. She kept abreast of all the latest developments in alarm systems and electronic devices, had developed a pretty good range of accents, could make herself look anywhere from twenty to seventy and worked out regularly. Be a chameleon, Marley had taught, and she’d become just that.
Recalling Padma’s camouflage remark, Lisette took another look at the plastic bag and saw that one roll of paper had a plastic cap covering its core. The design on the paper was happy and innocent—snowmen frolicking in a wintry landscape—and, if not for the cap, wouldn’t draw a second look from anyone. Even with the cap, no one would look at it and think mailing tube with stolen masterpiece.
Except Jack.
“So start talking, sweetie. You’ve got a lot to spill in the next seven miles.”
Lisette glanced out the side mirror, noting the cars behind them. She wasn’t usually antsy, but she’d never pulled a job in her own hometown, either. And she’d never had Jack on her trail. Which was really kind of a nice place to be, though it would be nicer if he didn’t think she was a thief. He was comfortable with people whispering that about him, but she’d never experienced the slightest suspicion from anyone, and she lacked the power and fortune behind his family name. No one but Padma and her parents would care if Lisette Malone was accused of art theft.
That fact made her uneasy, so she pushed it away and asked, “What do you want to hear about first—Jack or the restaurant?”
Padma chewed her bottom lip. It was a hard choice for her: handsome, sexy, single rich guy versus trendiest place in Denver. “Restaurant first,” she finally decided.
The car ahead of them came to a sudden stop at a yellow light, and Padma slammed on the brakes, then threw both hands into the air as if to ask What the hell? Bless her heart, she was so pretty, delicate and sweet, no one ever seemed to take offense at her actions.
After a glance around, Lisette launched into a detailed description of Fire. Padma responded with gasp after gasp. When Lisette couldn’t think of a single other thing to add, Padma’s mouth formed a thin line, accompanied by a sigh. “All that beautiful paneling and trim and flooring...gone. That’s depressing enough to make me do something crazy like ordering lehenga cholis online or, heaven forbid, answering emails from Raza’s incredibly annoying girlfriend.”
Grateful for a fresh topic, and having the same opinion of brother Raza’s girlfriend, Lisette considered the lehenga choli: a long skirt worn with a midriff-baring bodice. When it came to fashion, Padma was more assimilated than her mother would like, so it would thrill Dr. Mom to see her buying traditional Indian clothing. “Ooh, that pink one you showed me? Could you get it a size larger so I could wear it, too?”
“Or here’s an idea, I could buy one for you and one for me so they would both fit. Then we could wear them when we go clubbing and tell everyone we’re twins.”
“You’d get to be the Indian twin with the fabulous hair, and I’d be the island twin with the insane curls.” Island was the ethnicity Marley had given whenever Lisette asked. That doesn’t tell me anything, she protested, and Marley had responded, Get your DNA done if it bothers you.
“Here we are.” Padma turned into a narrow drive that ended in front of a tidy white house. The garage had been converted to a room, and fall flowers bloomed in planters on the porch. The blinds at the window beside the front door swayed, then the door was flung open.
“Lisette! Padma! It’s so good to see my pretty girls.” Mrs. Maier was old enough to be their grandmother, pure white hair framing a face that was always creased by a smile. Though she wore no makeup, her cheeks were rosy, and her blue eyes popped against her pale skin. She was average height, slender as a reed, and she smelled of exotic fragrances when she hugged them.
Standing on the porch, arms wrapped around the shopping bag, Padma said loudly, “We brought you some wrapping paper. You know, because the holidays are almost here.”
Lisette kept her eyes from rolling by squeezing them shut for a moment. Mrs. Maier, though, didn’t miss a beat, replying in an equally loud voice, “Oh, that’s so sweet. Yes, with my grandbabies, I’ll have a ton of gifts to wrap. Come in, and we’ll have tea.”
Padma flashed a grin at Lisette before following the old lady inside. Her own smile rueful, Lisette trailed after them and into the kitchen. They sat at the round table that overfilled the room, where a tea service and a plate of cookies waited.
Lisette and Padma chose tea bags from the bowl next to the pot, and Mrs. Maier poured steaming water over them in delicate porcelain cups. Next she passed around the cookies, then tended to her own tea before smiling at both of them. “You said you had news, Padma. Have you located my painting?”
Padma pulled the tube out of the plastic bag and offered it to Mrs. Maier. The older woman’s brow furrowed, then understanding appeared, and her hands began to shake. “This is...oh, my heavens...are you...?”
She began to unwrap the paper, b
ut after a round or two, she ripped it like an excited child. The top popped off when she pulled, the canvas making a faint rubbing sound as she withdrew it. When she unrolled it, the feeling Lisette had experienced upon first seeing it swept over Mrs. Maier, too: goose bumps, taut muscles, a gasp of pure joy. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at it, her breathing rapid, her entire body trembling.
“Oh, my Lord... I thought I would never see...” Her gaze lifted to them. “You sweet, sweet girls! When I asked for your help, I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t think there was anything you could do. I thought you would try your best, and then I could accept that she was gone. I’m so sorry I doubted you and so, so grateful you proved me wrong.”
Padma patted her arm. “It’s okay, Mrs. M. We have enough faith in ourselves for ten people.”
Mrs. Maier beamed through her tears. “Marley was right to be so proud of you two.”
“She trained us well,” Lisette said before taking a sip of her tea.
Padma’s smile faltered. “Mrs. M, what are you going to do with it now? The man who had it stolen...if he finds out it was returned, he may hire someone to take it again.”
Carefully rerolling the canvas, Mrs. Maier returned it to its tube. “My sons and I have discussed that. They wanted me to get it out of the house years ago, but... Their father gave it to me when we got married. It hung in our bedroom for sixty years. I just couldn’t bear to not see it every day.” Sadness slipped into her expression, regret for the loss of her husband, the painting, the innocence.
Then she cheered up. “The Fenwick Center isn’t far from here. They’re small, but they have a lovely collection. My friends and I, we go there every week to see what’s new and admire what’s old. They would provide a nice home to her.” She patted the mailing tube as if comforting Shepherdess before turning to Lisette. “Unless you’d like me to contact the Candalaria.”
If she hadn’t just swallowed the mouthful of tea, Lisette would have choked on it. “No, no, not at all. The Fenwick is a wonderful place, and she’ll be the star of their collection. Until you transfer it, though, keep it someplace safe.”
“Not a problem. My sons come over every Friday evening. They’ll store it in their bank vault until I can talk to the museum on Monday.”
They spoke a few minutes more, finished their tea, got hugged again and finally left as the first son arrived. As she drove away, Padma muttered, “If she’d donated or loaned it to the Candalaria, we’d’ve had to steal it again.”
Absolutely. Or, simpler, tell Mrs. Maier that David Candalaria had commissioned the theft. It was their rule to keep the identity of their marks to themselves. After all, their job was to retrieve the goods, not gather evidence for prosecution. But sometimes they had to break their own rules. And though it was a totally wrong idea, she couldn’t help but think of Jack and wonder.
Would a successful heist against the Candalaria impress him even more than the theft from the Castle?
* * *
Once Lisette and Padma were out of sight, Jack circled the block and drove past the house they’d visited, making note of the address painted on the curb. At the next stop sign, he checked his files. Yep, the address belonged to Rachel Maier, legitimate owner of Shepherdess. Concealed in that big bag Padma carried inside, Shepherdess was home again, at least temporarily.
Grinning, he drove to the parking lot where Lisette had left her car. With another woman in another place, he might have felt guilty for slipping a tracking device into her purse earlier, but that was because business was business and women were personal.
Except Lisette, who was an intriguing mix of both.
The tracking app showed that she was inside Pecos Pete’s, and a drive around the parking lot located her car out back. After finding a space, he went inside and took a seat at the bar, ordered a beer and took a long drink before gazing around. The women were sitting in a booth near the windows, perfectly situated where he could see their reflections in the mirror behind the bar. Padma’s expression was lively, her mood clearly a good one. She was doing most of the talking, accompanied by dramatic gestures. She was a pretty woman who somehow managed to project serenity and tranquillity in spite of her liveliness.
Lisette, in contrast, was quiet, thoughtful, serene in fact and not just appearance. She dipped tortilla chips in salsa and sipped her drink while giving Padma encouragement to go on.
“Excuse me. Could I get a pad and a pen?”
The bartender pulled the items from beneath the counter and dropped them in front of him on her way to other customers. He wrote a note and flagged her down again, pointed out Lisette’s table, ordered a bottle of their best wine and gave her the note and a fifty-dollar bill to deliver it. His message was brief: Congratulations, ladies.
Five minutes later, a waitress tapped him on the shoulder. “The woman at table fifteen sent this.” She laid a crumple of paper in his hand before scurrying away for another customer.
Inside the wadded paper was his tracking device. Lisette must have begun searching her purse the instant she’d read the note.
“I thought you might need that back.”
When he raised his gaze to the mirror, she was standing behind him. Sliding the tracker into his pocket, he faced her. “I always travel with a good supply.”
“Yeah, I figured you did, but you can never have too many, can you?” She combed back a strand of hair. “How long have you been stalking me?”
“Just long enough to piss you off. And it’s not stalking, actually. It’s...professional curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“My pirate name would have been Lucky Jack, remember? This cat has nine lives.” Considering that her annoyed expression wasn’t easing, he opted for placation. “I wasn’t going to follow you home or anything creepy like that.” He didn’t need to. David’s assistant had already given him all her personal information. He wasn’t admitting that, either. He figured Lisette was totally nonviolent, but even nonviolent people could be pushed too far.
“But following me to a friend’s house, then to a restaurant isn’t creepy.”
“Consider it a test of your abilities.”
It was obvious his comment raised questions, but before she could get to one, he quickly went on. “I know you returned Shepherdess to its rightful owner. Will it be safe there?”
“Yes. Are you going to tell Candalaria?”
Jack snorted.
She studied him a long moment before pursing her lips, looking at Padma, who was watching with great interest from their booth, then gesturing. “Come on. You might as well join us.”
The invitation was a surprise. He hadn’t intended any real contact this evening. He’d just wanted her to know that he could keep tabs on her, to celebrate their success and to ask for a few hours of her time on Saturday. But he was no fool. She’d offered the invitation, and he was accepting.
He followed her to the booth, where Padma was sitting cross-legged on the bench and literally bouncing in place. “Ooh, I was hoping she would bring you over so I could meet you.” She stuck out one hand. “I’m Padma Khatri, Lisette’s best friend in the whole world. I’ve known her forever, and I could tell stories about her that would curl your hair. Not for free, though. I accept any and all bribes. Chocolates and milk shakes top my list.”
Other than a quick glance, she ignored the fact that Lisette was trying to get her to slide across the bench to make room for her. It was hard for Jack to not smile at her brazen refusal or Lisette’s sullen annoyance as she slid onto the opposite bench. He slid in, too, closer than he needed to be, closer than he should be.
Since Lisette didn’t seem inclined to complete the introductions, he offered his hand. “Jack Sinclair. It’s nice to meet you. And we’ll have to talk about those bribes.”
Lisette dipped a tortilla chip into to
matillo salsa, then held it in midair while locking gazes with Padma. “Jack saw the gift we delivered to Mrs. M.”
Padma’s reaction was pretty much a non-reaction. “Yeah, when you said, ‘That jerk, he followed us!’ I kinda figured the rest of it. There had to be some sort of transmitter, right, because you were watching traffic, and let’s face it, it would be really hard to stealth us when I’m driving.”
“She’s right,” Jack agreed. “In three blocks, she made a turn across four lanes of traffic, almost rear-ended a car, ran a yellow light, and I’m pretty sure I saw a dog-walker scramble halfway up a light post with his pooch. Trying to keep up with her would draw too much attention to any bad guys following. Which I’m not, by the way.”
“Following?” Lisette asked drily.
“A bad guy. And by the way, the gift wrap was a good idea.”
As he expected, Padma beamed. “Thank you.”
The waitress brought their dinner, then asked, “You want to order, hon?”
“No, thanks.”
Lisette paused in separating a tortilla from the warmer. “You can stay.”
“Thank you. But there are chili dogs calling my name at a little hole-in-the-wall about thirty minutes from here. Besides, I just came to ask a question.” He thought of his so-far unanswered question and corrected himself. “Two questions. But only one right now.” He would badger the other from Lisette sooner or later. “I’m going climbing tomorrow. It’s always more fun with partners.”
“Yeah, so someone can call 911 and direct them to your broken body after you crash to the ground.”
“You need to work on that attitude. Someone who uses climbing in their job shouldn’t automatically think of broken bodies. It’s a necessary skill, and you need to improve yours. Don’t be scared of it.”
Padma snorted. “Calling her a coward doesn’t have any effect on her at all. Believe me, I said it a lot when she refused to go skydiving with me.”
Lisette serenely stuck out her tongue at her roommate.
“C’mon.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Just think. If you’d had more experience, you wouldn’t have frozen on the balcony last night, and you could have gotten to the ground and been gone by the time I came out. See? I’m offering to help you avoid me in the future.”
Nights with a Thief Page 5
