by Diane Rapp
“Yes. He’s a reputable jeweler in Houston and often sends us tips about people offering to sell him blood diamonds. In this case the diamonds were connected with one of the artists working for Genuine Fakes. Recently we told him to pressure his contact about the jewels, but it hasn’t worked.” Henry slipped his wallet back into his pocket and sat next to Shannon. “After we met, my boss checked with Interpol about you two. I got the okay this morning to share information with you.”
Steven laughed and handed Remington an Interpol wire. “Evidently Homeland Security got your cover story well documented. Our Interpol search uncovered credentials showing you’ve worked for the National Park Service but no indication that you’re a special agent.”
Natalia grinned and said, “I don’t rely on government security checks. My senses told me that you were hiding something, so I told Shannon to steer clear of you.”
Shannon nodded. “She’s really good at ferreting out information, but it usually comes from a network of spies.” She smiled at Henry. “I knew I could trust you.”
“Now that we’ve got that sorted, we’ll bring you up to date.” Steven explained the details of their investigation while Henry listened, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
Henry said, “We may not be dealing with blood diamonds, but this murder is definitely connected to the diamonds in that painting. We can’t risk them falling into the hands of terrorists, so I’m here to help.”
Kayla asked, “Did you get Cynthia into protective custody?”
Henry laughed. “She’s a piece of work, flirting with every guy she meets. She couldn’t charm your man, Jeremy, so she tried to work her wiles on me.” He winked at Shannon. “She’s definitely not my type. It takes too many approvals for Federal protection, so we delivered her into the hands of the state police. They’ll keep her tucked away in a safe location.”
“Good. I don’t want to see her within a hundred miles of Steven or me.” Kayla picked up the packet that held the diamond. “Who do you think killed Jeffrey Miller? We’re running out of suspects.”
Jason nodded. “I contacted the manufacturers of the coffin, and Sir Cedric placed the order himself. He gave them specific instructions about the drawer size and provided the cufflink keys they used to fit into the lock.”
“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Steven said.
“Cryptic statement but what do you mean?” Kayla asked.
“It’s a quote from Sherlock Holmes, a fellow countryman who demonstrated great wisdom,” Steven replied.
“You realize Sherlock was a fictional character?” Kayla asked, folding her arms. She couldn’t help picturing Steven and Jason as Sherlock and Watson again.
Steven laughed. “Too right, but Arthur Conan Doyle was a national treasure. Regardless, we know the killer’s identity, but now we must prove it.”
“I was thinking the same thing, mate. Our killer is Sir Cedric,” Jason stated emphatically.
Kayla shook her head. “We ruled him out right away. He’s crippled and needs someone to push that wheelchair to get around. How would he manage to get down to the baggage storage area alone?”
“I confirmed his malady with his physician,” Steven said, “but misdirection is the key to any good illusion. Sir Cedric is stronger than he lets on. He made us all believe he was weak and couldn’t get around on his own by insisting that Timothy help him whilst they were in public.”
Jason nodded. “Emily and I saw him maneuver around his suite using crutches, but I didn’t notice any marks in the corridor’s white carpet that indicated someone used crutches.”
“There were wheel marks in the baggage storage room, but we assumed they came from the catering trolley,” Steven added.
Jason slapped his thigh. “I’ve been an idiot! Sir Cedric gripped the brass handrails on both sides of the corridor to propel himself along the hallway. When he reached the landing, where the wheelchair was stored, he climbed aboard and took the service elevator down. Since events occurred during the wee hours of the morning, no one saw him. I noticed strange smudges every couple of feet along those brass handrails but didn’t make a connection with Sir Cedric.”
“Nice theory, but what’s his motive for stealing his own painting?” Remington asked
Jason said, “Timothy says Sir Cedric lost a fortune in the stock market. On one hand he reduced staff and kept the household on a tight budget, but then he ordered a custom coffin and shipped it on an expensive overseas flight. To secure a tax deduction he agreed to donate the painting to the new art museum. Evidently he never learned about the diamonds until a private appraisal. I believe he formulated a plan to steal the painting, sell the diamonds in secret, and defraud the insurance company during the process.”
“Why kill the artist?” Natalia asked.
Steven rubbed his chin. “Jeffrey Miller painted two copies of Glacier Blue, and I think one was commissioned by Sir Cedric to facilitate the theft. Miller discovered the diamonds and tried to bargain for a higher payment. Sir Cedric has a violent temper. He got furious and whacked Miller with a golf club rather than submit to blackmail. Who else knew enough to leave the copy of the painting with the body? The original was already tucked into the secret drawer inside the coffin.”
“So, how do we prove he did it?” Remington asked.
Steven grinned and waved his long fingers in a magician’s flourish. “We use misdirection to convince him to retrieve the painting, but we need a fresh face to fool our mark. Ranger Remington, we’re terribly happy you joined the team. Have you ever done a spot of acting?”
*****
Timothy discovered a stranger knocking at the door of Sir Cedric’s suite. “I have urgent business of a personal nature to discuss with your boss,” Remington said. Dressed in a shiny black pinstripe suit, a black shirt, and white tie, he appeared dangerous. He shoved past the young Brit.
“See here, if you threaten us I’ll get security,” Timothy sputtered.
Remington’s eyes looked deadly as he stared down his nose at Sir Cedric. “Do you dare involve the cops, old man? I think we should, perhaps, have us a private conversation first.”
“Don’t act in haste, Timothy. Let me hear what the gentleman has to say.” He watched Remington fiddle with diamond cufflinks. “Boy, go visit your little tart in the casino for an hour. I’ll be fine alone.”
Timothy’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat nervously. “I could use a break,” he mumbled and fled from the suite.
“Sit down, Mr.…” Sir Cedric gestured at the sofa.
“Smith. It’s as good a name as any in this kind of business.” Remington sat, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and carefully smoothed the seams of his silk pants. “I’ve been watching this unfortunate business with your painting, and it pains me to realize you’d try to welch on a deal.”
“Deal? I made no deal with you, Mr. Smith.”
Remington grimaced and leaned forward. “You made a deal with Jeffrey Miller. He made a deal with me to deliver the diamonds in Anchorage, therefore, his deal becomes our deal. Understand?”
“I have no diamonds to deliver.”
Leaning back against the cushion, Remington flashed a predatory smile at Sir Cedric. “We both know different, don’t we?” He removed a switchblade from his pocket, opened it, and used the tip to clean his fingernails. “I happen to know you offed Miller in that storage room and left that fake with the stiff. At first we wondered why you’d give up them diamonds, but realized they was safely stowed inside your coffin.”
Sir Cedric swallowed hard and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “What do you want?”
“Good to hear you making some sense. We want the goods we were promised, but we’ll pay the fee agreed upon.” The switchblade clicked shut, and he slid it back into his pocket. “Since we’re ready to do business, I think you should know the Feds are getting ready to open that special drawer you installed in your coff
in. A forensic team will board the ship in Anchorage, and we both know what they’ll find inside.”
Sir Cedric stiffened. “I can’t let them find that canvas.”
“No. I think it would be mutually beneficial if you met with me at 3 a.m. and opened the drawer in your coffin. That’s the hour you prefer, right?”
Sir Cedric glared but nodded his head.
“Good! I’ll get rid of that pesky painting and make sure we extract the diamonds outta the paint. The insurance company pays the art museum, you get your money from me, and my buyers will be happy as clams.”
“How much are you willing to pay?”
Remington barked, “It don’t matter! You takes what I gives you and be happy ’bout it, right?”
The old man nodded meekly. “I’ll meet you at 3 a.m.”
Remington stood abruptly, startling Sir Cedric. “Don’t be late. I gets a might testy if I’m kept waiting. Don’t stand up,” he grinned like a shark, “I know the way to the door, myself.”
*****
Dressed in the grey coveralls favored by a maintenance worker, Jason inserted a tiny camera into the smoke detector in the corridor of the Diamond Deck. He’d already installed a camera into the vent of the baggage storage room. A bank of monitors in Emily’s suite displayed activity in both locations.
Steven reviewed the recording of Henry’s meeting with Sir Cedric, captured by a lapel-pin camera. “You make a convincing gangster,” he said.
“My uncle played a mobster in a TV movie, so he taught me everything I know.” Henry burned a DVD of the recording and labelled it. “I hear your dad was a cop in London. He’ll be disappointed he missed this arrest.”
Steven nodded. “I’ll make a copy of the DVD for him to watch later, but I’m grateful he won’t be near the action. You never know what a killer might do when he’s backed into a corner.”
“Yeah. That old man might run me over with his wheelchair.” Henry widened his eyes in mock fear.
Laughing, Steven said, “You’d be surprised what damage a runaway wheelchair can inflict. Seriously, that old man killed for those diamonds, so I won’t put anything past him.”
Henry shrugged. “Danger goes with the job. I’ll be okay.”
“Get a bit of sleep,” Steven suggested.
“Sure thing, I’ll go get some shut eye.” Henry stifled a yawn and headed toward the guest bedroom.
*****
At 2:30 a.m. Jason watched Sir Cedric enter the corridor of the Diamond Deck. The old man gripped the nearest brass handrail and shut his door quietly. Scooting his stiff legs into the center of the corridor the old man gripped the handrail on the opposite side and lifted his body, swinging his legs like a gymnast until he propelled himself to a position three feet further. When his feet touched the floor, he released the handrails and grabbed a new spot. He moved swiftly down the short corridor.
Jason handed Steven a ten dollar bill and said, “You win this one. He looked just like one of those marionettes on a stick, you know the kind that dance?”
Steven stuffed his winnings into a pocket. “I’ve watched acrobats on the stage and understand how strong their arms can become. Look, he’s on the landing with the wheelchair.” He clicked the button on his walkie-talkie. “Subject coming your way, over.”
Kayla’s voice responded, “We’re awake, over.”
“That’s my girl,” Steven murmured and switched his monitor to the view of the baggage room door.
Remington came out of the bedroom, rubbing wet hair with a towel. “Is he on the move already?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only 2:40, so you think he’s setting up an ambush?”
“Could do but more than likely he wants time to open that drawer,” Steven said. “It takes a bit of effort and he might want to admire his property.”
“I’ll keep my gun handy just in case.” Henry shot the bolt to load a bullet then clicked the safety. The men watched Sir Cedric roll up to the baggage room door and insert a key into the lock.
Jason scowled. “I wonder who supplied him with his own key…guess we’ve got someone to fire tomorrow.”
Steven shook his head. “Emily told me he demanded a key when they stored his coffin, claimed he needed access to his property. She caved in to his pleasant personality.”
“Switch to the monitor inside the room,” Henry said. “I need to see the layout before I walk into his trap.”
Steven clicked a button and the small picture of the storage room filled the whole screen. Sir Cedric rolled his chair close to the coffin and bent down to work the mechanism that would open the drawer. Suddenly he sat up and cocked his head to listen.
Jason clicked his radio. “Tally, is someone walking down that hall? Our man is listening to something outside.”
“A couple of sweethearts are meeting for a quick snuggle. I’ll go head them off before they get into trouble, over.”
“I’d better get down there,” Remington slid his arms into the pinstripe jacket and straightened his tie. “We can’t afford for the rabbit to flee from the trap.”
Jason watched Natalia divert the two young lovers from their intended path. Soon she waved into the camera and disappeared from view. Jason sighed. “She’s a real treasure.”
Steven nodded and pointed at Sir Cedric. “He’s back to work. Andy, do you think you can man the equipment while we do our jobs?” Steven asked the red-haired purser.
Andy pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded. “I’ve worked electronics all my life. This is a simple setup so I can handle the job.” He moved his chair closer to the table. “Go take care of the girls.”
Steven said, “Make sure we’ve got a recording of the whole thing. I’d hate to spring the trap and lose the evidence we need.”
Jason checked the microphone attached to his lapel. “Testing, one, two, three.” Andy gave him a thumbs up and waved for the two investigators to leave.
“Reinforcements on the way, over,” Steven said into the walkie-talkie. He heard a double click, the signal for okay. “I hope Remington does a proper job. I hate to rely on someone I haven’t worked with before.”
“I spoke to his supervisor at Homeland Security, and he comes highly recommended.” Jason held his finger to his lips as the elevator door slid open. With guns ready, the two men crept down the hallway and stood outside the door to the storage room listening. Steven looked at the opening to the nearby linen closet and winked at Kayla. She gave him a thumbs up.
Remington said, “I see you’ve already secured the painting.”
Sir Cedric sat in his wheelchair holding Glacier Blue with his left hand and a pistol in his right. “I’m armed and prepared to defend myself,” he said.
Henry chuckled. “You should take the safety off if you plan to use that thing.”
Sir Cedric looked down at the gun, and Remington jumped during the distraction. The gun clattered to the floor, unfired, and Henry snatched the painting. “You think this is my first rodeo, dude? Don’t point a gun unless you’re prepared to kill.” He picked up the pistol and slid it into his pocket.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” Sir Cedric’s eyes watered and his hands shook. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Henry nodded. “No one ever means to kill until they stand over their first bleeding corpse. The first one is always the hardest, but it gets a bunch easier.” He lifted the painting to see it better in the light. “This is a right pretty picture, but you expect me to believe there are diamonds under the paint?”
“Look here! I didn’t go to all this trouble for a fake. The appraiser assured me those diamonds are worth millions.”
“I see the tips poking through the paint but how can anyone tell they’re diamonds?”
Sir Cedric huffed. “The diamonds fluoresce a deep blue under a black light.”
“You got one handy?”
The old man growled, “As a matter of fact, I do.” He reached into a pocket hanging from the arm of his wheelchair
and produced a small blue light. “Turn off the overhead and I’ll prove I’m right.”
Remington switched off the incandescent light as Sir Cedric turned on the black light. The paint glowed but the jewels failed to luminesce as promised. Henry flipped the light switch and stood glaring at the old man.
“I don’t understand!” Sir Cedric trembled, and his voice turned into a whine. “I watched Jeffrey Miller take the copy out of the drawer and place the original inside. Someone must have switched paintings later.”
“Sounds like a fairytale to me. You made the switch and are trying to swindle me out of my jewels. I’m getting mighty tired of waiting on promises, besides which, you don’t want to cross my buyer. He’s dangerous and won’t be happy.”
“See here, I’m the injured party, after all, I own that painting. That blasted artist threatened me and demanded double the payment we agreed upon. Somehow he found out about the diamonds and claimed he could sell them for triple the value of the painting.”
Remington laughed. “So you smashed him over the head and shut the drawer holding your precious painting.”
Sir Cedric nodded. “I couldn’t let the rogue cheat me, but I never realized I hit him with that golf club until he fell to the floor dead. It wasn’t my fault.”
Remington set the painting down and took handcuffs out of his pocket. “Mr. Cedric Sinclair, you are under arrest for attempted insurance fraud and the murder of Jeffrey Miller.”
“But you’re the person who was trying to buy the diamonds! You can’t arrest me, I’m a British Lord.”
“Sorry, but we Yanks don’t give a damn if you’re gentry,” Henry said, looking up as Steven and Jason entered the room. “I’ve even got a pair of Brits who agree. You gents want to read him his rights or should I do it?”
“Our warnings are worded differently, so I suggest you proceed as normal.” Steven clicked his radio and said, “Andy, did you get a clear recording of his confession? Over.”
