by Ritter Ames
He explained, “We met for coffee, and he told me that he heard from someone, who heard from someone else—”
Lack of sleep always made me impatient. “How many different someones are we going to go through?”
He laughed.
“Spill it, Nico.”
“You’re the talk of the thieves and pickpockets of Italy.”
“Did anyone say who ordered the hit? Or who actually killed Melanie?”
“I said you were the one talked about, not anyone else.” He was quiet for a second, then said, “Surely the Met Polizia couldn’t think you had anything to do with the murder.”
“I did find her.”
“I’m sorry. Were you alone?”
“Yes. She was beaten with a baton like the one I had in Germany.” Also, she slapped me earlier in the evening, and a packed house witnessed the episode, I thought. My legs were starting to feel a little shaky. I leaned against the table. “And apparently the murderer was hiding somewhere in my room when I thought I was alone with the body.”
“Mio Dio!”
“But that isn’t all.” I took a few minutes explaining how and why the theft of the Rodin bust didn’t happen as planned.
When I finished, he asked, “The same mark as was on the snuffbox?”
“Exactly.” I combed the top of my hair back with one hand and changed the subject. “Have you discovered any lead on the forger, so we can see if he did the snuffbox and the sword, and try to get some insight into that angle?”
“I have a first name, Arlo, and I’m told he lives in Paris. I’m booked on an afternoon flight,” he replied.
“Okay, great. See what you can learn. I’ll have Jack call you—”
The loud clunk of the lock said Nico wouldn’t have to wait for a call.
“Do I smell Thai chicken?” Jack asked as he opened the door. He looked at us and stopped. “What’s come up now?”
“Nico, fill Jack in,” I said. Walking to the coffee setup, I grabbed a couple of water bottles and carried them back to the table.
Jack listened quietly until Nico finished, then asked, “Any chance you’ll hear anything more substantial about Melanie’s death later?”
“I have a lot of feelers out,” Nico said. “Many people know Laurel and like her, so I expect to hear something.”
“They just like her because they don’t have to work with her,” Cassie said, grinning at me.
I grinned back at her, but my heart wasn’t in it. I finished putting enough food on my plate to look like I was interested in eating, and listened as Jack said, “For the time being we’re grounded here. What little I’ve tracked down says they don’t have any reason to hold Laurel, but it’s early on and it makes sense the police want her to stay in London. So far, they’ve only labeled her as someone helping with inquiries. If you find out anything in Paris and need backup, call and I’ll see if I can get something worked out. But until we have a reason to leave I don’t want to push anything.”
“I plan to keep everything low-key,” Nico said. “Always meet in public places, that sort of thing.”
“Good, Nico, stay safe,” I said.
Jack took a swig of his water bottle, frowning as I spoke. I looked down at my plate and scooped up some curry.
“Was the baton the one Laurel had?” Cassie asked. “Did the police find fingerprints or anything?”
Jack shrugged. “I phoned a mate of mine who knows someone in the lab. There was a partial print, but it didn’t match anyone they thought might be connected to this case. Meaning the four of us, of course. Doesn’t rule anyone out either.”
I nodded and kept eating.
“What about the video?” Nico asked.
“Williams is parceling the cuts off into smaller files and loading everything onto a flash drive. We figured it might be better if there wasn’t a digital email trail. He’ll text me when it’s ready,” Jack said. “We watched every available video of the escape of the second thief, as well as the views when everyone left the club and the entrances to Laurel’s hotel. Nothing jumped out to help identify the killer. It looks like she exited through a long disused doggy door, by the way. Also, we found where Melanie was dropped off at the service entrance of Laurel’s hotel, but the car drove off and she entered alone. Still staggering somewhat, so she might have been mugging it when she slapped you in the club, but she was definitely some degree of pissed. Then, she appears in the work areas of the hotel, wandering through to the elevator. She gets on alone and disappears from the video because of whoever tampered with the hotel’s feed.”
I clutched my throat. “That can’t be very good for me since the video won’t conclusively prove I wasn’t with her in the suite.”
“Except that Williams already has your movements cataloged to the minute, long before she arrived at the hotel, through your appearance arriving in your lobby, and even has the video highlighted that shows me running off when Cecil phoned.”
“Good lord, I’m glad Danny’s on our side,” I said.
Jack set down his plate and walked over to put an arm around me. “Not just Williams. From what Nico said, you have half the underworld pulling for you.”
“Come on, stop. You’re making me sound like a hood. I just have an extensive circle of eclectic acquaintances.”
“One way to phrase it,” Jack said, grinning.
“You’re just jealous I have more connections than you do.” I patted his cheek and winked.
“Of course, that’s what keeps me up nights.”
Nico spoke again, “I’ll call or text if I learn anything else from this end, but unless there’s additional information for me to know or do, I should go so I won’t miss my plane.”
“Go,” I said. “But be careful.”
“Always,” he replied.
Everyone said their goodbyes, and I tapped the screen to end the call.
Cassie dropped her empty plate into the trash and very deliberately said, “With lunch and the updates complete, I’m going to use the ladies room.” She grabbed her purse. “Think I’ll also run downstairs and see if I can get some rangoons too. I like my lunches multi-Asian. Don’t worry if I’m not back right away.”
As she closed the door, Jack asked, “Has she always been that subtle?”
“She’s an art restorer,” I said. “Not an actress.”
He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “Is my kickass girlfriend feeling a little vulnerable?”
“I guess that’s one way to put it.” His lips moved to meet mine, and I felt a lot of the tension go out of my body. When we broke from the kiss, I rested my cheek against his crisp white shirt. “You know, you clean up pretty well after having to go home in the clothes you wore last night. Did Cecil appreciate the extra effort?”
“My boss just wanted to continue grousing about the bust retrieval being…well, a bust.” He rubbed a hand up and down my back. “It’s like when you talk to Max, and you try to explain the particular details rather than simply producing the item like magic, the way he really wants it done.”
I took a step back to be able to look him in the eye. “How bad is this really, for both of us?”
“For me, it’s over. I can’t give them the authentic piece they were looking for since what you found was a forgery. At least with this new curve getting thrown toward the problem, Cecil can shift the purpose to when the original could have been switched for the fake.”
“And someone in the British government is positive the bust in the Russian’s safe was the same one originally at the real owner’s country estate?”
“MI-5 is. I haven’t learned specifics, but Cecil assures me the chain of events were complete as far as the Home Office was concerned as well. Says this new development will require a lot of double tracking in the coming days.”
“But at this point,
they’re unlikely to find who swapped the piece out initially.”
“There is that.”
I crossed my arms and paced. “We should have pointed out to Nico the metal works forger in Paris could be a likely suspect for the creator of the Rodin fake.”
Jack pulled out his phone. “He’s probably already ahead of us, but it doesn’t hurt to remind him for when he talks to Arlo.” He sent a quick text and received confirmation the message had been received. “There. Done.”
“I’m overthinking, aren’t I?” I laughed and walked to the windows and opened the drapes.
Squinting at me, he said, “Yeah, you likely are. Maybe because you don’t want to think about other things?”
“Hey, you’re were the one who texted him.” I laughed again and said, “Someday we both need to address our control issues.”
“Pity. We could probably use them in many more creative ways.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I smiled and resumed pacing. My brain wouldn’t shut off and kept looping over old ground. “Look, I realize you couldn’t really ask about the theft at the Russian’s house. Were you able to work it in at all because it tied peripherally to the party?”
“Right, yeah.” Jack shoved his cell into a pocket. “The Russian’s making all kinds of stink about the jewelry. Never mentioned anything else according to reports. Williams did pull up all those perimeter cameras too, and I saw the second thief light out with one of the coppers spotting her and giving chase. She disappeared though. From the time stamp and the fact Williams didn’t mention seeing anyone else drop out of the top floor, she had to have been ahead of you. But none of the camera views on the street revealed her actual exit from the house. I didn’t ask to watch video showing the time around the house afterward, but I’m assuming if she hadn’t been spotted and pursued you might have been seen as well. So far, no one’s interested in the CCTV video coming after they took up her chase, leaving any cameo appearance you made ignored unless new evidence arises.”
“I would have hidden myself somewhere if a police car had been outside.” But I hadn’t been watching closely enough for anyone on foot. Bad practice, Beacham. I’d heard the sirens and been lulled by the sound of their distance.
“And I would have had a heart attack in the club waiting for you to call,” he said, grinning.
I slapped his shoulder. “If you had even half the heart attacks you claim are possible…sheesh. Just think of it as your daily cardio workout.”
He caught me around the waist and pulled me close again. “I can think of a far better daily workout for my heart.” The kiss this time was longer and hinted at the worry I knew he’d felt the previous evening.
Putting my hands on his chest, I pushed away and asked, “Did you learn anything else I need to be aware of about the investigation into Melanie’s death? Am I on the hook even peripherally? Or totally off police radar at this point? Fingers crossed.”
“To be honest, it’s too early to know anything for certain.” He sat on the end of the table and grabbed his water bottle. “But after following the party’s multi-camera views…Oh, and Cassie did such a great job working the floor that even Williams didn’t catch the switch. And with the working hotel cameras showing Melanie while we were still at the party venue watching the police arrive, I think anyone would be hard-pressed to build any kind of case against you unless they were trying to squeeze you for information.”
“Meaning I just need to keep acting open and cooperative?”
“Best plan.”
The door lock clunked, and Cassie poked her head inside. I slid up on the table next to Jack and picked up my plate to finish eating.
“Good.” She grinned. “I’ll quit worrying about you since you’re eating.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s on your agenda this afternoon beyond calling Max?”
“I have an appointment at the National Gallery,” she said. “I’m doing some background research on a couple of restoration techniques, and one of their experts said he’d answer my questions. How about you?”
Jack’s phone pinged, and he said, “Williams has the flash drive ready. How about we all go together? We’ll leave Cassie at the National Gallery, then meet Williams.”
Cassie glanced toward the window and said, “We need to grab umbrellas. It looks like it’s going to rain any second.”
“You’re kidding me.” I stared unbelievingly. “It looked like the clouds were breaking a few minutes ago.”
“Remember, you’re in London,” Jack said, wadding up empty cartons and bags and tossing them into the trash like basketballs. He only missed once. “This passes for a fair day this time of year.”
“At least it isn’t snowing like the New York forecast shows,” Cassie added, as she stacked the cartons still containing food in our tiny refrigerator.
“Small favors,” I groused and grabbed a to-go cup, filling it with coffee.
Nine
Since cabs are doubly hard to get in rainy weather, we hid under umbrellas and trudged the long block to the Tube. My Manola Blahniks weren’t my favorite walking heels, but they were closed toe and the dark leather would look okay even if they got wet. Cassie used the opportunity to call our boss, using the road noise to distract Max while she told him I wasn’t in New York and wouldn’t be there as anticipated.
“No, Max, I have no idea when she’ll be able to travel outside London,” Cassie said in a normal tone, then held her hand over her mouth and quietly added, “The police are investigating a murder in her room. They’re calling the shots.”
Luckily, everyone was hurrying in all directions, because Max’s responses were loud enough that they could have been on speaker. Cassie finished up the conversation saying, “I promise I’ll call when I have more information, but I’m entering the subway, and I’d better hang up. Not a lot of good reception down there.”
“Have Laurel call me,” Max yelled.
“Will do, sir.” Cassie grinned at me. “Have a nice day.”
She pocketed her phone, and as we rode the escalator down Jack texted with Danny. We all used our Oyster cards to slip through the queue and as we neared the platform he said, “We’re going to meet up again inside the National Gallery. His eyes need a break from the screens, and we should be able to find a place to talk in the museum.”
Fine by me. I loved wandering through the National Gallery and did so every chance I could. We shook the water from our umbrellas, then entered one of the crowded train cars.
When we were back on the sidewalk again, Nelson and the lions welcomed us, glistening in damp air as they kept a weather eye on all visitors coming to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. Unless the boys disagreed, I planned to suggest we do any discussion in room forty-three of the gallery, where I could gaze on one of the four Sunflowers paintings that Van Gogh completed in 1888 immediately before he and Paul Gauguin shared the little yellow house in Arles, France. I loved how he wrote about the series to his brother Theo, saying “I am working at it every morning from sunrise on, the flowers fade so quickly.” It was the kind of reminder I needed to seize every opportunity of the day—no matter how small—while I had the chance.
Danny Williams waited for us inside, near the Trafalgar front entrance. Like us, he was damp, his light hair darkened from the rain since he had no umbrella, but his grin was as bright as a summer day. He’d already been my partner in crime on one project, and I knew if there was anything video-wise to prove I had nothing to do with Melanie’s death, Danny would find it. Unfortunately, I also worried if he spent too much time watching video around the Russian’s house that he’d catch sight of me sneaking in or out as well.
“Cassie Dean, this is Danny Williams,” Jack introduced them.
“Nice meeting you, Cassie.”
As she shook Danny’s hand, she said, “I’ve heard a lot about you. But don’t worry, it was al
l from Laurel, so it was complimentary.”
“Splendid,” Danny said, smirking at Jack.
Looking at her watch, Cass said, “I hate to say hello and run, but I have an appointment in the Pigott Education Centre.”
“We’ll see you later,” I said. “Call if you want us to meet you somewhere.”
“I’ll head back to the flat once I’m done here. I don’t know how long this will take.” She waved as she rounded the corner of the espresso bar to get to the ground level galleries and shortcut her way to the rear section of the museum and education center.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to continue to stay with Cassie?”
“My things are already there.”
“But—”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
I slipped my left hand into the crook of his elbow and took Danny’s arm with my right, steering all of us back toward the Trafalgar Square entrance and the stairs to the second level.
“So, Laurel, are you seeing anyone right now?” Williams quipped.
“I’ll let you know if the situation changes, Danny. It’s a moment by moment thing.”
“Oh, funny.” Jack glared at both of us.
We climbed the stairs and entered the nearest opening to The Wohl Galleries, a small series of connected rooms filled with enough reasons by themselves to visit the National Gallery, including an Impressionist room with works by Monet and Manet. My objective was the third room, beyond impressionism in both location within the museum and the artistic period. Room forty-three held the work of Seurat, Gauguin, and the sunny Van Gogh Sunflowers. The painting was as captivating as I remembered. Only two other people were in this gallery, one woman stood as I did near the Van Gogh work, and the other, a man, was drinking in Seurat’s brilliance.
