BRONZED BETRAYALS

by Ritter Ames

  Timms nodded, but he didn’t look apologetic. “I’m sorry. Yes, for the moment we would appreciate it if you remained within the city boundaries. If anything changes, however, I will contact you immediately. The investigation is early on, and everyone is still under suspicion. I would appreciate knowing your whereabouts. In case I have further questions, you understand.”

  “Of course.” Sheesh! What did it take to get off this guy’s list? Oh, yeah, a suspect he could tie to the crime with evidence. The fact we didn’t have a name for the Amazon, nor any information on how to locate her couldn’t help either. Maybe he would change his mind after contacting the Italian authorities.

  “And you’re still staying at the address you texted to me earlier?” he asked.

  Cassie’s flat. I nodded without looking at Jack.

  “Then that’s all I need,” Timms said. “Cheers.”

  “Goodbye, Inspector.”

  I didn’t feel the least bit cheery.

  Twelve

  Danny called as we were putting on coats. He and Cassie had left a few minutes before from the education center, and he wanted to know where to meet. Jack covered the mic and asked, “Are you hungry? You want to meet them in a pub?”

  “I still can’t taste anything, but a pub sounds fine.”

  They settled on one nearby, and Jack and I made our way back into the hallway. One of the directors met us and offered a less trafficked exit through a side door. We thanked him, grateful for a little anonymity, and left.

  The afternoon had come and gone, and the sidewalk was filled with umbrellas sheltering the end of the workday crowd from the heavier rain now falling. I didn’t bother opening mine, since Jack wrapped his arm around me as we walked, and one umbrella kept us relatively dry.

  “I forgot to ask if you got the flash drive from Danny,” I said.

  “Good lord, that seems like three years ago,” Jack said, laughing. “Yes, we can either go back to the office and watch it on the large screen or borrow Cassie’s laptop when we get to the flat.”

  I smiled when I heard the last sentence. Sounded like Cassie had another houseguest for a while. Not that I thought she would mind having Jack and his muscle around, given the current circumstances.

  As we neared the pub, several couples entered the door ahead of us. I worried we wouldn’t get a decent table. Or any table for that matter. The good thing about the damp day was our eyes didn’t have to adjust to the lighting in the pub. The bad thing about the drizzle was the place was as crowded as I’d feared. However, Cassie and Danny had secured us a place along the far wall.

  “Hey, how are you?” Cassie jumped up from her chair and hugged me as I got to the table. “Danny told me what happened.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, hanging my coat on the back of my chair. “Feeling better every minute.”

  Danny volunteered to go to the bar and order for us, but Jack said he’d take care of it. I took the opportunity to begin telling them about the hair Timms’s team had discovered, but my peripheral vision picked up on the fact people at adjoining tables were staring at us. When a guy at a farther table said, “Hey, look, isn’t she—?” and his girlfriend smacked his shoulder, I realized what was going on.

  “How many social media shares do this afternoon’s videos—plural—of me currently have?” I asked Danny.

  He grimaced and raised his eyebrows. “Probably something north of ten thousand.”

  “Crap.” My curse was quiet, but heartfelt. Add that to the local news story trending after Melanie was found dead in my room, and my status as an unwilling media sensation in London seemed unstoppable. Time to head off this latest problem. I jumped up, grabbed my coat and purse, and whispered, “I’m going to hide in the ladies. Tell Jack to get our order to go and we’ll reconvene at the flat. Cassie, come and get me when we’re leaving.”

  Jack ordered a cab, since we all figured I’d garner just as many stares on the subway.

  “How long does it take for these kinds of things to die down?” I asked once we were safely behind Cassie’s alarmed door.

  “Until the next viral sensation hits social media,” Danny replied with a shrug. “But you’ve had back-to-back opportunities, and there’s no telling what it might mean. Your break in media attention could be any day. Or if you’re lucky, any minute.”

  “Can’t be soon enough,” I groused. “Why aren’t the Kardashians up to something that gets the world’s attention?”

  “They’d probably kill to get the views you’ve gained by accident,” Cassie said.

  “I may kill someone if it doesn’t stop soon.” I checked my phone and saw two messages from Lincoln Ferguson. “And I have a pretty good idea who my first victim might be.” I deleted the messages.

  We shared the food, then Cassie brought out her laptop and the flash drive was plugged in for the CCTV viewing debut. I hoped Danny wouldn’t have any reason to think about mentally inserting me into particular sections of the theft video. The views of the second thief at the Russian’s house were run first, with her appearing out of neighboring shrubs and entering easily through the front door. I sat on the floor, nearly eye level with the screen and stared hard, looking for any way of identifying the person hidden under all the black.

  As she left, this time apparently from an unfilmed side exit, Danny pointed at the screen and said, “We’ve confirmed she exited via a medium-sized doggie door installed by a previous owner.”

  “Did the current residents use it?” I asked.

  Danny shook his head. “No, and it wasn’t wired.” He pointed at the screen as a shadowy image raced from the side of the house. “You can see the dark bag she’s carrying. It looks a lot bigger than just some pieces of jewelry, but I spoke with one of the guys investigating and he says the owner is adamant only jewelry was stolen. Gotta wonder.”

  No, we didn’t have to wonder at all. The only thing I’d been wondering was how she got the piece out of the house without leaving via the roof like me, but the doggie door explained that. Now I wanted to know how she knew about the unconventional exit, large enough to squeeze through, and why the security firm hadn’t alarmed it in the same way as the doors and lower floor windows. Probably for the same reason they hadn’t wired up the window I ducked out of—they didn’t realize any adult could slip through without getting stuck.

  Cassie spoke up, “She had to have had knowledge of her escape route before she went in. It’s too unlikely she would have stumbled onto an out of commission dog door after getting trapped by the metal-attracted alarm.”

  “If so, why did she try exiting first through the door?” Jack mused. “She could have left without anyone even knowing she was in there if the alarm wasn’t tripped.”

  I kept quiet and sent Cassie a look to warn her. We didn’t want Danny realizing we knew as much about the alarm system as we did. Jack had enough contacts that Danny likely wouldn’t question why he knew more. But Jack saw the look Cassie and I exchanged and gave a slight head nod, letting me know we were all on the same page. I could see from the expressions on Jack’s and Cassie’s faces that they had as many questions to throw out as I did, but we weren’t going to try filling in the blanks while Danny was part of the group. We were supposed to only have an interest in the house theft because of the party.

  A few scenes from the party were pulled up next. Everything seemed to substantiate the alibi I’d prepared. Cassie was as good as Jack had said, taking an opportunity to use my personal hand movements she’d perfected while we were in college. I’d teased earlier that she was no actress, but she was definitely a terrific mimic.

  “Did you send these to Timms?” I asked, just being curious, and I rose to stand next to Jack’s chair.

  “Yes,” Danny replied, sitting hunched on the sofa so he was close to the screen. He grinned at me as he spoke, “Timms stopped by right after Jack left, while I was loadi
ng up these files. I came off looking über efficient, since I didn’t waste a second grabbing the views Timms needed to be able to follow you through the night. I left out the bit about the theft at the Russian’s house, of course, but added where you and Jack stepped out for air and returned to the party through the front entrance about a quarter-hour later. Timms mentioned wanting to know where you went.”

  Jack nodded. “He called me. I gave him the name of the coffeehouse we walked to. Laurel was fighting a headache and needed to step out for air.”

  “Pretty conclusive that you couldn’t be at the party and murder someone at your hotel in the same timeframe,” Danny added. I smiled at him and shook my head.

  “It hadn’t been enough for Timms to lift Laurel’s grounding order,” Jack said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “I had a few words with Cecil. He’s not going to step in yet, but he is ready to if we need his help.”

  Given he knew I was breaking into the Russian’s house at the time because Jack couldn’t, I felt a little help from the Home Office was truly the least Cecil could do.

  We hadn’t yet told Timms about the luggage disappearing after I left. The longer we waited, the more I felt we should keep the information to ourselves. Jack would likely bandy around an obstructionist-charge argument if I mentioned it again. But he hadn’t come up with a good way to tell Timms either, and I didn’t fancy volunteering to implicate myself any further for a conclusion that currently seemed to be bringing everyone into agreement.

  Since the Amazon was suspected of being the murderer, it left me puzzled about how I escaped unscathed. She’d never hesitated to attack me in the past.

  Danny finally loaded up the files showing Melanie’s journey into my hotel. I’d gone to the kitchen for coffee, and when I returned I grabbed a better view by balancing on the arm of the chair Jack occupied. I held my cup with one hand and hugged my torso with the other as we watched her stumble into the back door of the hotel. Jack pulled me into his lap and whispered in my ear. “You want us to stop this?”

  I shook my head. We needed to know all we could. So far, the videos didn’t show anything we hadn’t already known, but without studying the scenes we’d never be sure we had all the available evidence. “It’s fine.”

  But when we’d finished all the files, Cassie asked to see them once more. “I think there’s something there my subconscious is getting, but I’m not sure what it is.”

  “Which files?” Danny asked.

  “I’m not sure. I got this feeling when the party scenes were running. I don’t know, though, if it’s because I saw something at that time, or I subconsciously realized something earlier, and my brain got around to reporting on it as the party file played.”

  I pushed up from the chair and faked a yawn. They could rewatch everything until dawn if they liked, but my day was done, and I needed a break. “Hope you all have fun, but I’m whipped. I’m going to turn in early. Sorry for being a party pooper.”

  “Heavens, no.” Cassie jumped up. “Go get a good night’s sleep. You must be dead on your feet from the stress alone.”

  Jack stood. I hugged him and bussed his chin with a quick kiss. “You don’t need to come too. I can tuck myself in. Stay and watch with everyone. I know you want to look for more clues.”

  I smiled at him, and he raised a questioning brow. Patting his chest, I said, “Don’t worry about me.”

  He still followed me to the bedroom and gave me a much better kiss good night. After I sent him back to follow the CCTV evidence, I grabbed my night things and headed for the bathroom. A long, warm shower was exactly what I needed to help lessen the tension in my neck and shoulders. I couldn’t control the internet, but I could do everything possible to relax enough not to care so much. I brushed my teeth and used night cream on my face, letting its familiar scent remind me that things were going to be normal again. Of course, in my case, what was normal? I was so used to sleeping in various hotels in as many countries and cities, it didn’t bother me that I was at Cassie’s instead of my own digs. The surroundings didn’t help me de-stress, but the regular nightly routine did.

  As I crawled between the sheets, the auction card on the Portrait of Three hit my thoughts. It was still in the backpack I used for the aborted theft the other night. It had affected Jack as strongly as it had me when he saw it at the coffeehouse, but we hadn’t had the time to investigate the card at all. He’d watched me slip it into the bag, but he hadn’t said anything since. No other works of art were pictured or listed on the auction card, only the Portrait of Three, and that alone raised all kinds of red flags. While we hadn’t discussed it since then, we probably needed to see if anything could be learned about when the auction would be held and where. Or if it was already a past event. And if the event featured more paintings, were the other works originals or as fake as the Rodin? In the meantime, in case the Amazon wasn’t enough of a suspect, we needed to give the authorities other persons of interest to consider to keep me out of jail. Until I fell off the “best bet” list, I’d never get my travel restrictions lifted. Using Cecil needed to be a last resort, but getting out of London was becoming my dearest wish since social media seemed to think I was a trending personality.

  I thought about checking my feeds to see what the count was up to, though I knew the number was probably higher than what I was imagining anyway. I punched my pillow instead, deciding it seemed safer to snuggle under the covers.

  If my story was still viral in the morning, however, I planned to camp out at Cassie’s until the next internet sensation hit.

  How hard is it to start a competing viral event, I wondered.

  Thirteen

  I woke at half-past seven in the morning, starving. Easing my way out of bed, I grabbed my robe and headed for the bathroom. Jack was awake when I went back in to dress, and we spent a good while saying good morning. My senses of smell and taste seemed to be normal again, and when the aroma of fresh brewing coffee wafted in from the kitchen, the day was officially started.

  “Morning, Cass,” I called as I entered the kitchen. She responded by handing me a cup of coffee. “Thank you so much.”

  “I went out for croissants,” she said. “There are eggs in the refrigerator if you need more, since you went so light on lunch and dinner yesterday.”

  “Good point.” I grabbed a small skillet and started the process for scrambled eggs. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I had mastered that dish at least. Jack came in soon after and I added a couple of eggs for him as well.

  “What’s on the agenda,” I asked, as we sat around the table sharing croissants and butter. Jack’s phone pinged with a text.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I need to take care of this.”

  I thought about adding no-phone-at-the-table rules, but neither of our jobs truly allowed that.

  “I have a full schedule,” Cassie said, giving me an apologetic smile. “I loaded up when I thought you’d be in New York. But I can postpone some of my research if you need me for anything.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s fine.”

  “What did you decide about Caro’s event?” she asked. “Should I call her?”

  I grimaced. “Given my new internet status, I might get more attention than the fashion show. No sense in going anywhere that throws me near reporters and cameras—fashion or otherwise. Plus, I don’t want to worry about impacting their fundraiser in a negative way.”

  “There is that too.”

  Jack finished his text and said, “I need to go interview someone at a company in the Docklands. Possible financial fraud with external ties to a couple of people we’ve dealt with before. MI-5 is taking the lead. I’m strictly backup to make sure the Home Office stays in the loop. Shouldn’t take more than the morning.”

  “Guess I’ll stay here today and see if I can find out anything from sources,” I said. “I don’t want to hide away,
but it seems like the best alternative under the circumstances.” I couldn’t stand not knowing and pulled up the current video shared stats. The numbers were staggering. “Everyone still seems to be interested in following the aborted kidnapping story.” I saw a version with music added that focused on the tasing and wasn’t the least bit flattering to me or my giant kidnapper as we jerked and flopped around. “I also want to connect with Nico,” I added. “See what he’s learned.”

  “He called last night after you went to bed,” Jack said. “He still doesn’t have a last name on Arlo, but that isn’t so unusual for forgers.”

  I nodded, smiling. “I always think of the Middle Ages, when it was Seth the blacksmith and Jed the miller. All these years later and forgers are still known more by their craft and talent than their full proper names.”

  Jack finished eating, then headed back to the bedroom for his tie. I stacked up the dishes and helped Cassie carry everything to the sink.

  “By the way,” I said, running the sprayer over a plate to knock off crumbs. “When I went to bed you were going to rewatch the videos to see if you could spot something gnawing at your memory. Did you figure out what it was?”

  She shook her head. “I was hoping my subconscious would figure it out while I slept, but no luck.”

  “We’re all running on a diminished charge,” I said, grinning. “Well, I got a booster yesterday, but I don’t think it necessarily helped in that regard.”

  “Can you describe what getting tased felt like?” she asked.

  “Like something I never want to experience again.” I shuddered. “But try not to think about what you’re wanting to remember, and it’ll come to mind easier.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself, but I’m not much better than you when it comes to patience for that kind of thing.”

  “I hear you.”

  After Jack and Cassie left for their appointments, I texted Nico and received word back echoing what Jack told me earlier. My gorgeous geek was staying in the Montmartre area of Paris and was hopeful about making contact with Arlo today. I told him to be careful, and he said for me to do the same. Then he sent a link to one of the YouTube videos to remind me not to try hiding anything from him. I didn’t even have to see him to know he was laughing as he typed the message. At least it wasn’t the music video version where the giant and I were caught in an endless loop of twitching until Jack’s arm pulled me away and the loop started up again with the music running ad nauseam.