We left the car parked off to the side by another neighbor’s house and passed through the gate and headed for the dense tree line for cover. The evergreens were thick and over a hundred feet in height. We weaved back and forth behind their cover, steadily making our way closer, then stopped about fifty feet from the Worths’ stone house.
“How do you want to play this?” Martha asked me.
“We could go along the back, but that would waste too much time. Let’s skirt the front toward the garages, okay?”
The others agreed and we followed each other in a line.
Five minutes later I held up my hand. “Wait! I hear…”
“An engine is running by the garages,” Betty whispered. “What could Tony possibly be doing out there?”
“Could be sitting there and talking on his phone,” I said.
“Maybe to make a quick getaway,” ventured Betty.
Hazel whispered, “Well, he must be doing something.”
“Standing here won’t tell us what, will it?” Martha said.
We edged along the side of the garages then I held up my hand once more when we reached the large doors. I cautiously peered around the corner.
I drew in a breath. “He’s loading a crate into his SUV.”
“A crate of what? From where?” asked Hazel.
By this time Martha was leaning over my shoulder.
“It looks just like the crates at the gallery. …Paintings?”
We quickly crossed the driveway, peering through thick evergreens that surrounded a large windowless utility shed.
“I had no idea it was there!” I said, startled.
“The Worths’ know they have a shed fifty yards away. It’s their property,” said Martha. “And the implications…”
I countered with, “There’s always the off-chance they don’t use it. I mean, do they look like they’d even walk in that shed? Could someone else be handing off this stuff to Tony without their knowledge when they travel?”
“Remember the initials AW on that lighter?” she asked.
Were they Alicia’s? How was Clay going to react when he was told? They were his friends. At least he thought they were. And it wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last time someone lied to one of us. But a betrayal trumped buying into the gallery. I didn’t like what I was witnessing.
Tony jumped into his SUV. We dove for the bushes and watched as he passed by, heading down the drive to leave.
Was Tony robbing them or in cahoots with them?
Chapter 36
Taking A Look
Martha kept looking back at the shed. I knew that look.
“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head no. “Don’t suggest it.”
“What harm would it do?” she asked innocently.
Hazel and Betty exchanged glances and frowned.
“I don’t do sheds,” declared Betty, brushing herself off.
“You know I detest dark, closed in spaces,” said Hazel.
Martha waved off their protests. “It’s broad daylight.”
I considered it. Evidence? “Maybe there’s electricity.”
“You see?” said Martha. “Sam thinks it’s a good idea.”
I headed toward the shed. The others followed.
Then Hazel brightened. “I bet he locked it.”
“That would be prudent,” added Betty, hopefully.
I stared at the double-doors. A long bar slid up and down to latch it then a padlock. And that was left unlocked. I lifted the bar and entered. The center was filled with a large flatbed trailer (probably for Chris’ Harleys) and multiple rolls of wire fencing, guessing, (to protect the evergreens from the deer in winter?)
“The rest is typical tool shed items.”
I checked the perimeter: tools, blower, rakes, etc.…
“I don’t see any art in here or anything related to it.”
“That makes it the perfect hiding spot,” said Betty.
Out of nowhere, a gust of wind slammed the doors shut. We heard the bar drop in place and were now in the dark.
“Stay put,” I instructed. “I’ll go unlatch the doors.”
I felt my way over, stumbling into a few items, stepping around the fencing and tools. The shed was about fifteen feet by twenty feet, so it took me a few minutes. I got to the doors and cautiously felt for the thumb latch. The whole shed was made of rough sawn wood. I gently touched the surface to avoid getting splinters. I finally stopped when it dawned on me there was no latch on the inside. “Uh-oh!”
Now skittish, I jumped when a hand tapped me.
“What do you mean, uh-oh?” demanded Martha.
There was shuffling then four iPhone flashlights flicked on. It didn’t matter. There was no inside latch.
“If no one uses it from the inside, why have one? Those logs down there must prop the two doors open,” I said.
“Too late now. How are we to get out?” asked Betty.
“Let’s call Clay,” said Martha.
I looked down at my cellphone: nothing. “Martha, check yours. I have no signal. Betty and Hazel try yours too.”
“Zip, zilch, uh-uh,” they responded in succession.
…We were in a no-fly signal zone.
I heard labored breathing behind me and turned.
Betty put a hand on Hazel’s arm. “Easy does it now.”
“…Her panic attacks,” said Betty. “Any exit plans?”
“Well, we can’t rake our way out, can we?” said Martha.
“How about we try pushing on the doors?” I said.
The four of us heaved at the count of three. …Nothing.
“We could yell,” I suggested, “but it’s isolated here.”
There was a moment of silence then…
“Help! Help! Help! Help!”
Chapter 37
Time (Drags) Marches On…
With no windows, a low roof: hence no loft, no axes or hammers found to try and break our way out, we eventually gave up, lapsing into silence. Some tool shed! Both Betty and Hazel were sitting on the back of the Harley trailer, I was balancing on a roll of wire fencing and Martha was sitting in the wheelbarrow, her legs dangling over the edge.
We turned off our cellphone flashlights to conserve our batteries. Every fifteen minutes one of us kept trying to get a signal. It was a lost cause: No matter what corner of the shed we tried: nothing, nada, zip.
Out of the dark a voice said, “I’m hungry.” Hazel.
“Was a matter of time,” Martha said in a mocking tone.
“I have low blood sugar issues,” Hazel replied.
“Among others, namely food,” retorted Martha.
Betty intervened, “Somebody sounds grumpy.”
“Ease off, Martha,” I said. “You know she’s sensitive.”
“…And still hungry,” griped Hazel.
“Next thing you know she’ll have visions,” said Martha, who then began mumbling, “…It’s here somewhere.”
Now curious, I asked, “What is? Where?”
“My purse. …Here it is!” It sounded like she was ripping something open. Cellophane? “Ah, finally.”
“What are you doing over there?” asked Betty.
“I carry two big boxes of this stuff around just in case.”
“Boxes of what? In case of what?” I asked.
“Emergency foil-wrapped chocolates!”
Suddenly Martha was the most popular one in the shed.
“Alright, alright!” she said. “One person at a time!”
She gave us each a big handful. We wolfed them down.
“They’re odd-shaped, but quite succulent,” said Betty.
“Each has a tasty liquid center,” said Hazel, chewing.
They were delicious: dark sweet and …something else. I couldn’t pin it down precisely, but we were so hungry at that point no one was complaining. We kept eating them.
Hazel began laughing. “My blood sugar must have been really low,” she said. “I’m fee
ling kind of lightheaded.”
“Maybe you ate too fast,” I said, laughing.
“Oh!” said Betty, giggling. “I feel…” She giggled again.
I was feeling lightheaded myself. “Martha…”
“…Yes?” she said evenly, still munching on the candy.
The last thing I needed was for these elderly ladies to get sick, me included. I hit my light on the box cover. Too late… The candy was bottle-shaped. I could barely speak.
“…Contains alcohol. Imported/Denmark. Ingredients: Cointreau, Jim Bean whiskey, Tequila, Canadian Club whiskey, Vodka, Remy Martin, Galliano, Borghetti. Warning: Do not operate machinery or drive vehicles.”
Martha countered, “Jeep’s outside. We’re stuck inside.”
I burst out laughing. Make lemonade from lemons…
“Hand me another one…”
Chapter 38
Search & Rescue Or Visa Versa
I awoke with a start. My neck was killing me. The bed I was sleeping on was the roughest and most painful… Then I recalled what happened. I felt around me. I remembered balancing on that rolled fencing and eating those candies…
Where was I? I jerked upright and flicked on my phone flashlight. I was on the back portion of the Harley trailer with Betty and Hazel sprawled out at the other end, out cold. I glanced to where the wheelbarrow was: still there and so was Martha, who was snoring loudly, mouth wide open. So much for her bragging she could drink (or in this case) eat us under the table. We’d polished off both boxes.
My ears perked up. I heard a motorcycle engine: Clay’s! I jumped up and started nudging and shaking the others.
“Wake up. I think that’s Clay on the motorcycle!”
“I bet he’s looking for us!” said Betty, flashing her light.
“I must look a sight,” said Martha, fussing with her hair.
“Wipe the drool off your face first,” laughed Hazel.
“I noticed you were out too, Miss Know-it-all.”
“Ladies! Not now! Let’s get his attention first,” I said.
The minute we heard the engine shut off we pounded on both doors, yelling Clay’s name as loud as we could. It wasn’t long before we heard the latch bar lift and the two doors swung wide open. We stampeded through, excited to be breathing the fresh air outside and seeing daylight again.
Clay stared at us, open-mouthed. “What happened?”
“Thank goodness you’re here,” said Betty. “We were stuck in that god-awful place for a couple of hours.”
Hazel was still brushing herself off. “Thank you, Clay.”
Martha shot him a look, dramatically saying, “About time. We could have been pushing up daisies by now.”
“But the doors weren’t locked,” he said.
“No handle on the inside and the bar locked in place,” I said, hugging and kissing him.
He backed off, leery. “You all smell like a brewery.”
We glanced at each other. That’s when we realized how filthy we were, with our hair sticking out in angled patches and clothes rumpled. We looked like drunken bums. Come to think of it, that about sized up our situation.
“We can explain,” I said, trying to steady my footing.
Why was the ground moving? Oh, yeah…the candy.
“Go inside and shower while I make coffee,” he said.
“My knight in shining armor,” I sighed.
He wrapped his arm around me, “One word: Detox.”
Martha harrumphed. “I’d like to see him out-candy us.”
Clay turned back to her. “What?”
I urged him on. “Ignore her. She’s been on a bender.”
“The others too?” he asked me, trying not to laugh.
“They all put me to shame back there.”
“But they are seventy…”
“And I’m still playing catch up…”
Chapter 39
Going To Conference
Freshly showered and now wearing clean clothes, we sat at the Worths’ long French table. Hazel brought over some cookies, coffee and aspirin. We were visibly candied out.
Clay took a sip of coffee. “Okay, ladies. Let’s hear it.”
We took turns explaining what happened. It took a while, between the excited banter and over-talking by everyone. But not one detail was overlooked.
When we finished, Clay said, “An unexpected twist.”
“We saw him carry a crate out, not in,” added Martha.
I leaned toward him. “Tony was exploiting the use of that shed. For who, how long and why, we haven’t figured out yet. Could be that Alicia and Chris knew all about it.”
Then I remembered to ask, “Clay, what’s your news?”
“Obviously I never saw Tony. You were tailing him.”
Was that a hint of jealousy I noted in his voice? Ha!
Martha preened. “Our sleuth skills are finely tuned.”
Clay nodded at all of us. “Duly noted, ladies.”
“So, did you find out anything helpful?” I asked.
“While you were trapped in the shed, I was trapped into having lunch with Anne.”
Martha laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly say trapped. She’s a real looker, big guy.”
My Clay was with that, that…. “May I ask what for?”
“I came back to the gallery looking for you. None of you were there. Anne said you all left in a rush. I guess that’s when Martha called you. Well, Anne cornered me to talk about the gallery’s clientele and I figured…”
I cut him off. “Why not? Sam will never find out.”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking. I figured I’d try and get as much information out of her regarding the gallery and how it functions without the distraction of your spy ring interfering or causing unnecessary strife.”
I bristled again, but then dialed it down. Clay was right. Sometimes we were a three-ring circus. Plus, I seemed to rub Anne the wrong way, as she did me. I smiled at Clay to let him know he was off the hook…for now. Of course, I wasn’t making any guarantees for the future.
“Did you find out anything useful from her?” I asked.
“I was shocked to learn she wants to buy this gallery. I didn’t know the Worths’ mentioned it to anyone else.”
I was shocked too. “Where would Anne get that kind of money? Do you think she knows you’re interested?”
Clay gave it some thought. “I didn’t suspect that, no.”
“Could she be a front for someone else? …Tony?”
“I think until proven differently, everyone’s a suspect.”
Somehow I couldn’t picture Tony and Anne together.
“Oh, I got a text from Alicia.” said Clay. “It said to check their security systems: gallery and home. …Why?”
“Could someone be tampering and switching paintings, or is Alicia deflecting your attention elsewhere?” I asked.
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Clay frowning.
Chapter 40
Was This Nothing But A Decoy?
“What kind of system is it?” Martha asked.
“It’s a high alert system: highly sensitive, gives reliable detection and round the clock protection for galleries.”
“Being an art buff,” said Betty, “I’ve heard about that.”
“Their house must have the same one,” I said.
“What is the name of the system?” asked Hazel.
“Spider Alert System for galleries, homes…” said Clay.
“I saw a brochure for such a system in the Worths’ loft just recently,” I added, “mixed in with some magazines.”
Martha grabbed her iPad and did a search. “Got it.”
“Explain how it works. It might help us,” said Clay.
She skimmed through her screen. “It says it has several wireless detectors that are sensitive to movement or removal of artworks. No obtrusive wires and as reliable as hardwired units.”
I gave that some thought. “It must be installed in their house
too. The art here is more expensive than the gallery.”
“What else?” Hazel asked Martha, taking notes.
Martha read on. “The components operate with an on-site monitoring center where events can be monitored and logged on all the art objects that are part of this monitoring system. The moment an art object is moved or a break-in occurs an audible or silent alarm is activated.”
I nodded. “So then the central monitor is notified.”
“Owner too,” said Martha, glancing back to her iPad.
“How does it attach to the painting?” asked Clay.
Martha scanned the site. “A magnetic detector can stick on or screw behind the picture frame.”
“It also has a repeater for further signals, a closed circuit TV camera, wireless motion detectors, a wireless receiver, controller and a computer monitor.”
“Where would the Worths’ monitor be located?” I said.
We all sat there thinking. Gallery? Home? Both?
“We should look for it to see if wires were tampered with, don’t you think?” asked Betty.
I turned to Clay. “Did Alicia say where it was?”
“Her last text was one word, brown, then nothing. I texted back. Nothing. Then I called her cell, but all I got was her voicemail, Chris’ too.”
A hush fell on the group.
Clay turned to Martha, “Did you find who Tony G is?”
“I looked up Tony’s last name and found a Giuseppe’s Pizza. Sounds like he borrowed that one, don’t you think?”
Clay stood. “I’ve got some calls to make on this Tony.”
My trio excused themselves to rest upstairs and I wanted to reread that info about the alarm system. Why would Alicia draw attention to their elaborate security system? Was she throwing us a red herring to chase after to keep us busy? What was her cryptic one word message about?
Was it a code? A warning? What?
The only thing I knew for sure was that Alicia and Chris were conveniently in London while we tried to solve this.
Hey, now that’s something I didn’t question before…
No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) Page 7
