Art of the Con: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 6

by Al Boudreau

  “Grab your coat. We’re going over to Reynolds’s house.”

  * * *

  “Come in,” Vittoria Arnahj said as she swung the ornate entry door wide. “Please … hang your coats in here.” She opened the hall closet and waited for us to oblige. “We’ve all congregated in the dining room, awaiting your arrival.”

  We followed her through an area of the house we hadn’t seen during our last visit, and into a huge, rectangular dining room. A high, inverted-tray ceiling mimicked the proportions of the enormous dining room table in the center of the room.

  At the far end of the table sat Professor Reynolds, head hung low and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

  Arnahj’s daughter was seated near the opposite end. She sat there studying our faces as we did our best to adjust to the uncomfortable circumstances confronting the five of us.

  “Mr. Peterson, Ms. Woods, I’ll have you seat yourselves across from Renee---sorry, across from Janet---whom I don’t believe either of you have formally met. Honey, say hello to Benj’s private investigator friends.”

  “Hello, private investigator friends,” she said, giving us each an overdramatized wave.

  “Honestly, Janet, must you make this situation any more trying than it already is?”

  I pulled a chair out for Sarah, then took a seat beside her.

  No sooner had my butt hit the fancy cushion when Arnahj focused her attention on the far end of the table. “Benjamin?”

  The professor looked up, face flush and eyes swollen---likely from crying. “Mr. Peterson. Ms. Woods. There will be no charges forthcoming, pertaining to the investigation you were hired to conduct,” he said. “Vittoria has a check for you. Payment in full, plus what we consider to be a generous gratuity … to make up for any trouble brought about by my indiscretions. Thank you for your efforts, and for your professionalism through my times of trouble.”

  I was about to respond when Arnahj beat me to the punch. “Benj … that will be all.”

  The professor dutifully slid his chair back, stood up, and left the room.

  Arnahj promptly turned toward her daughter. “Janet?”

  “Mr. Peterson. Ms. Woods. I apologize for any hardship I may have caused in your lives. I never meant to create such an uncomfortable situation for anyone outside of our immediate family. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Again, Arnahj controlled any opportunity for further discussion by sending the young woman on her way.

  Just the three of us remained. “Well, then,” Arnahj said. “I’m certain you both have questions.”

  I was anxious to have multiple blanks filled in, but led with the most nagging item on my list. “Your driver. He’s a thief. Why did he target me?”

  Arnahj didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Yes. Your wallet. My most sincere apologies for that entire episode. Dom was just doing as he was told.”

  “Doing as he was told?” Sarah repeated. “Does that include carjacking? Does that include leaving an elderly couple bound and trapped in the trunk of that very same car?”

  “No! I never sanctioned that part. In fact, I was furious with Dominic when I found out. Had he not been so loyal to me over the past twenty years, helping to watch over my daughter, I would have fired him on the spot. At least he had the decency to pay those two young boys to alert their parents about the situation. The elderly couple … they were never in any real danger.”

  “You people can’t go around stealing funds from people’s bank accounts,” Sarah demanded.

  Arnahj smiled. “Ms. Woods. On the record, I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re referring to, but I trust this will help alleviate any recent financial difficulties you’ve experienced.” She reached down next to her chair, picked up a file folder, and placed it on the table. Without even opening the cover, she slid her hand in and pulled out a check.

  I looked at the numbers as she slid the check across the table to Sarah. The payment was written for three times the dollar amount of our pre-negotiated agreement with Reynolds.

  Sarah looked at the check. “No,” she said and slid the check right back. “You’ve broken more laws than I’d have room to list on the back of that check. You think you can simply buy our cooperation?”

  Arnahj smiled at Sarah then looked over at me. “Do you feel the same, Mr. Peterson?”

  I sensed Sarah’s glare as I looked at Arnahj. “Let’s put this particular issue aside for a moment and talk about a few other legal matters pertaining to your daughter. Professor Reynolds stated he wouldn’t be pressing charges, but that may not be enough to keep Janet from being prosecuted.”

  “How so?” Arnahj asked.

  “For starters, she used falsified documents to clear customs for travel outside the United States. Using an alias in that way could open her up to Federal charges, the ramifications of which are very serious.”

  Arnahj opened her file folder, produced three documents, and slid them over in front of me.

  I gave them a quick glance. Petition for Change of Name; Order to Show Cause; Name Change Decree.

  My daughter’s legal name is now Janet Broe. Her choosing, and all perfectly above board,” Arnahj said.

  I let go a sigh.

  “My daughter is very bright,” she continued. “Much more intelligent than I. My regrets in life are many. The fact I gave her up for adoption the day after she was born, for one. That I forced myself into her world as she got older. That I sacrificed a deeper relationship with her in order to stay with a man who would opt to sleep with a twenty-five year old woman … after four decades of commitment.”

  “I’m sorry---”

  “Please, Mr. Peterson. Let me finish. I sacrificed my desire to raise a family just so my husband could pursue the career he so loved. After making that fateful decision, I tried to displace my unfulfilled longing with work and with travel. Unfortunately, the success I’ve achieved … the money. They’ve never been enough. My true joy was in watching Janet grow, albeit from afar. Over the years, I somehow managed to come clean with her, but she’s never forgiven me. I micromanage most everything in my life. She’s always fought that---as hard as she could, constantly pushing me away.”

  Arnahj looked as though she was about to get emotional and paused for a beat.

  “Sounds to me like you’re working on making it right,” I said.

  Arnahj nodded. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying. Clever child that Janet is, she’s developed a software program that corporations, governments, and criminal enterprises are all competing to get their hands on. She’s already eclipsed the success of Benj and me, combined, and served us both our just deserts in the process. I’ve suspected my husband of cheating for years now. I convinced myself you two might be the ones to help catch him at it. Sadly, I never dreamt the woman who’d finally bring him down would be of my own flesh and blood.”

  Sarah reached across the table, slid the check back over in front of us, then folded it and stuck it in my jacket pocket.

  I looked at her and nodded.

  Sarah pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “Ms. Arnahj, I know you’re a very powerful woman. A woman of means, with connections all over the globe. I won’t pretend to understand how it all works, and honestly, I don’t care to. We’ll respect your wishes, accept your check as payment, and call this a closed case, but I’m going to speak my piece before we leave.”

  “I’m all ears, Ms. Woods.”

  Sarah let go a heavy sigh. “I don’t condone what your daughter has done. That said, I was always taught to look for the reason, or reasons, behind a person’s actions. I won’t stand here and judge, but it appears to me as though Janet’s had a rough go of it, and was left to figure out an awful lot on her own. Can’t say I blame her for being a little angry at the world. Good bye, Ms. Arnahj.”

  Sarah walked off before Arnahj could say another word.

  I slid my chair out, clenched my jaw as I gave Arnahj a nod, and made my exit.

  I found Sarah
waiting for me out on the walkway as I closed the fancy entry door behind me. “Can I ask a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “Can we not talk about these people or this case until we get home, at the very earliest? I need time to process what just happened in there.”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 28

  I understood Sarah’s desire to let her thoughts and emotions settle after our meeting inside the home of Professor Benjamin Reynolds. I’d never experienced such an uncomfortable set of circumstances in all my years as a private investigator.

  I leaned over and gave Sarah a kiss on the cheek, then started the car and headed for home, putting this extremely dysfunctional clan in the rear-view once and for all.

  It was obvious who ran the show in the professor’s household. Vittoria Arnahj had just presided over a shaming session that put most visits to a grade school principal’s office or prison warden’s office to shame, hands down. Not that I condoned cheating on one’s spouse, or swindling other people’s money, for that matter. Benjamin Reynolds and Janet Broe both had some sort of punishment coming to them for their actions. However, Arnahj owned the original sin, laying the groundwork for this calamity years earlier with her decision to cheat, then keep the pregnancy and birth of her child a secret.

  Yet, Arnahj had the power, the clout, the means to have her will carried out---right or wrong---without suffering the repercussions mere mortals must face when they’ve done something wrong.

  The woman would have made a great politician.

  Sarah reached up to adjust her visor mirror when she asked, “What’s going on behind us?”

  I checked the rear-view and spotted a vehicle closing in fast, headlights flashing like an emergency vehicle. “They’re obviously in a hurry,” I said as I pulled over to the shoulder. “Better let them pass.”

  I looked over at Sarah and her eyes were glued to the visor mirror. “They were in a hurry, all right,” she said. “To catch us.”

  I looked back in the mirror. Sure enough, a black sedan slid to a stop near our back bumper, high beam headlights still ablaze.

  I heard my glove box door clunk open and turned to see Sarah pulling my pistol out. “Whoa, let’s not be hasty, here,” I said, holding my hand out so she’d pass it over to me.

  “We don’t know who they are or what they want,” she said. “I’m not taking any chances.”

  I checked my mirror again just as the driver’s door swung open. “No need for a weapon. It’s Arnahj’s daughter.”

  Sarah let go a sigh and stuffed my gun back in the glove box as I rolled my window down.

  Janet Broe came running up, panting as if she’d just finished a marathon. “You two didn’t waste any time getting out of Vittoria’s circus sideshow, did you?”

  Sarah leaned over toward the steering wheel and asked, “What’s going on, Janet? You nearly ended up with a gun aimed at your chest.”

  “Doesn’t sound all that bad right now,” she said, her tone indifferent.

  “Mind telling us why we’re sitting here on the side of the road?” I inquired.

  Broe nodded. “I know. You two are done. I don’t blame you. It’s just that---”

  “Look, it’s really none of my business at this point,” Sarah said. “Thing is, I’m going to say it, anyway. You ultimately dodged several bullets … something most people don’t get the opportunity to do. I suggest you take your good fortune and run.”

  Broe looked down and stared at the gravel for a moment. “I know you’re right, but I feel like I need to get this stink off from me. Tell my side of the story to someone who’s sane, you know what I mean?”

  I looked over at Sarah, thinking it would be best to defer to her on this one.

  “You up for having her come to the house?” Sarah asked in a whisper.

  I gave a nod. “We’re headed home, Janet, if you want to follow us there.”

  “You have no idea. Thank you,” Broe said then stood up and jogged back to her car.

  “Oh, man,” Sarah said as I put the car in gear and got us rolling again. “What have we done?”

  “This woman obviously has nowhere else to turn. Guess we can lend her our ears for a bit.”

  Sarah lowered her head and her voice. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

  I let go a laugh. “OK, there, Al Pacino.”

  * * *

  We stepped out of the car and onto the tarmac, waiting for Janet Broe to catch up before continuing on toward the house.

  “Cute place,” she said as she approached us. “Way more inviting than the McMansion-fest going on up in Prescott Heights.”

  “This neighborhood is a little more our speed,” Sarah said. “We’re not exactly wealthy people, as if you couldn’t tell.”

  “That’s part of the reason I’m here,” she replied. “That sick, twisted world makes me want to open up a vein the long way.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or dramatic, but it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have in our front yard. “I was thinking about making some coffee,” I said. “Either of you interested?”

  “Not to be pushy, but … got anything stronger?” Broe asked. “I know it’s still early afternoon, but I’m so ready for a shot … maybe two.”

  “Single malt whiskey,” I said as I swung the front door open and motioned for her and Sarah to enter.”

  “That’s beyond ideal,” she said. “Single malt’s my go-to.”

  “Coming up.”

  “Hope you’re still planning on making some coffee,” Sarah said. “I’m in need.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “If you two want to head into the living room, I’ll be in shortly.”

  “I don’t want to be a pain, but would you mind if we sat here at the kitchen table, instead? Sleep hasn’t been part of my routine, lately. If I plant myself on anything comfortable, our conversation might get one-sided in a hurry.”

  “Have a seat,” Sarah said. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m not … thanks. That meeting back at Benj’s house ruined my appetite.”

  “That makes two of us,” Sarah said. “That meeting was about as uncomfortable as it gets.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Broe said. “Vittoria has been bringing that kind of pain as long as I can remember.”

  I put the bottle of Scotch whiskey and two shot glasses down on the table then took a seat. “Vittoria, huh? You don’t refer to her as your mother?”

  “We share the same blood, a few undesirable traits, and some bad habits. Hardly the makings of a meaningful mother-daughter relationship. She’s much closer to being a foe than a family member.”

  “Who do you consider to be family, then?” Sarah asked.

  “I used to call Brianna and Hamish Thompson mom and dad, but the lovely Vittoria torpedoed that relationship for me.”

  “How so?” I asked. “You’re an adult now. You must have made an attempt---”

  “Hamish died. Heart attack. Brianna remarried. Unfortunately, a classic gold-digger hooked himself up to her wagon. You’d have no way of knowing this, but Vittoria made Brianna Thompson rich twice. Once, when Vittoria gave me up to the Thompsons, and again when she took me away.”

  “Took you away?” Sarah repeated.

  “Yes. Good old Vittoria saw how well I was doing in school, and couldn’t leave it alone. She swooped in, just after my tenth birthday, and decided she knew what was best for me. The Thompsons got a check for a hundred grand, and Vittoria assigned my legal guardianship to her man-slave Dominic Boulland. Dom was like a father to me for a while, but it all fell apart once I hit my teens.”

  It was then I poured a couple shots and slid one over to Broe. We raised our glasses, slugged the whiskey, and continued our conversation. “Is that when you lived in New Zealand?” I asked.

  “Right. Dominic Boulland watching over me gave Vittoria the best of both worlds, playing anonymous mommy when it suited her, and being the jet-setting m
onster we all know and love the rest of the time.”

  “When did you find out she was your birthmother?” Sarah asked.

  “After I turned eighteen.”

  I grabbed the bottle, poured two more belts, and we powered them down. “So … this whole mess we got involved in with Professor Reynolds?”

  “My idea of revenge,” Broe said. “Well, at least in the beginning. See, once Vittoria let the cat out of the bag about being my real mother, she did her best to infect every aspect of my existence with her poisonous ways---like I was a piece of property she needed to manage, or a mound of clay she was convinced needed shaping. The more I pushed her away, the harder she came at me.”

  “That’s terrible,” Sarah said.

  “You don’t know the half of it. There were brief periods of time when she wore me down enough that I let her in. Problem was, it always had to be about her. How much of a burden Benj was to her. How time consuming her Abhorica projects were. How I didn’t appreciate all she’d done for me.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “She did provide me with an amazing education. I always went to the best schools. The same ones all the elitists sent their kids to. I hated every minute of being around those spoiled, snobby, trust fund creepers, but I learned a lot about how the world really works.”

  “Street smarts, and book smarts.”

  “I like to think so. Unfortunately, both carried a high price. Vittoria never let me forget where my schooling came from; how lucky I was to have the opportunity to travel the globe, learning from the best. Unfortunately, having her in my life became too heavy. So … I decided the way to cast her off forever would be to hit her right where it hurts most … her bank account, and her pride.”

  “Speaking of bank accounts,” I said.

  Broe nodded, apparently knowing where I was headed. “That was Dominic. He’s a world-class hacker, and Jack-of-all-trades. He does all of Vittoria’s bidding. She had him take your wallet and your money because she could. It was her twisted way of finding out who you two were, and what made you tick.”