“I think we can dump the books from the list,” Logan said.
“What about the jewelry?”
“It might not quite fit the category of artwork, but I think it’s easily enough forged for a quick profit.”
“That only knocks down the list to twenty-eight.”
There was some overlap in the agents who wrote the policies and those who did the authentication, but that would be expected. The Chicago office of Atlas Insurance wasn’t that big. “Let’s start looking for connections between the owners. Ingram and Scott are friends. How many others are friends with them?”
They divvied up the list and sat back with their computers. Day turned to evening and they ordered some crappy Chinese food from down the block so they could keep working. Stokes was as dogged as he was. Even though the Devereaux case was as good as closed because the original painting was with the rightful owner, she also felt it was all too fishy.
Stokes poured more rice and chicken onto her paper plate and began eating with her chopsticks. Logan had had a girlfriend try to teach him to eat with chopsticks once. He never got the hang of it, so he ate with a cheap little plastic fork. He swore the restaurant intentionally bought toddler-sized utensils to make you feel incompetent. Adults used chopsticks.
He scrolled on his computer and shoved in a mouthful of food. Scrolled and scooped. “The society pages are filled with these guys. I’ve already loosely connected all fourteen on my list.”
“Me, too. We have to look for some deeper connections.”
“Try their personal social media. Look for the parties that are personal—birthday, anniversary, vacations. Who do they hang out with because they want to? Instead of just people they know because they travel in the same circles.” He couldn’t believe all twenty-eight people were involved. It had to be a smaller group or someone would’ve noticed in the last five years.
A sudden thought struck him. “Have any of these been sold? Did we take out the pieces where the policy is no longer in force?”
“Atlas just marks if a policy is closed. Not the reason.”
“We need the reason. If they canceled the policy because they sold, we need to find out where they sold and if an authentication was done. Real artifacts can be taken off the list.”
They did another deep dive into the twenty-eight pieces of art and found eight that had been sold prior to this year. “No red flags on any of these sales?”
Stokes shook her head. “They’ve all been picked up by other companies, so I think they would’ve authenticated.”
“Eight more down. Now let’s start with who’s friends with Ingram and Scott.” Logan printed a picture of each man and their forged paintings. He stuck them in the center of their board.
Then he went back to his cold dinner and social media. “I dread going on Facebook.” He used it to keep up with some college buddies, but other than that, he tried not to visit too often.
“It’s the only way I have to keep up with family in Florida.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“Nah. I’m a Chicagoan, but my parents moved to Florida when they retired to be close to the grandbabies. How about you? I heard you just transferred from New York?”
“I’ve been bouncing around since finishing Quantico. New York was my longest stint at eighteen months. I’ve been wanting in on this office for years. This is home.”
She smiled. “And if you crack this, you can write your own ticket.”
“Assuming it’s as big as I think it is.” He clicked on another Facebook page. He just kept clicking to see who friended who and how many posts they responded to. There were a fucking lot. “Who the hell has time to comment on and like all these posts?”
“People who don’t have real jobs.” Stokes sighed. “I’m beat and these lines are starting to blur. Pick it up tomorrow?”
“I’m gonna stick it out a bit more. See you tomorrow.”
She gathered her trash and tossed it in the already full can in the corner. He shoved his plate away, a small fire kindling in his gut. They’d made headway. He still couldn’t see the connections, but he knew they were there.
He took a break from the looking at the art collectors and switched over to a search for Mia. She didn’t have an active Facebook page. While the profile existed, she hadn’t posted anything there since her father’s arrest. He found an Instagram page that looked like it was hers. Lots of art pictures. He scrolled. Yeah, it was hers. She posted a picture of the lions outside the museum. She, however, appeared in very few. No candid shots of her and friends. No parties or random selfies.
Logan Freemont had a sparse social media presence. Logan Ford had less. He’d used social media to keep up with Mama Mae and when one of the kids introduced her to the latest thing, she always asked him to check it out to make sure it was safe. It was how he’d been lured into Snapchat and had even tried out TikTok—only for viewing because he didn’t have time to actually create videos. He preferred personal communications like texts.
A well-placed meme or gif could make someone’s day and he excelled at finding just the right one to make a friend laugh. He wondered if he could get Mia to smile by sending her a gif. It might be worth a try, especially since he wanted another date. While he thoroughly enjoyed talking to her, the kiss was beyond memorable.
And if the kiss was that good, things would only get better once they were naked. He opened his phone’s texting app and found the message from her from when they were at the museum. Then he thought about what kind of gif to send. Something sexy but funny. Nothing too over-the-top because although he was still learning about Mia, he was sure that over-the-top wouldn’t appeal to her.
He sent her Joey from Friends saying, “How you doin’?”
Her response? Logan?
He answered yes and then, Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow? And added a gif of Lady and the Tramp sharing a spaghetti plate.
The bubbles popped up and disappeared. She probably thought he was childish for sending gifs.
Then a gif of Moira Rose from Schitt’s Creek appeared on his screen saying she’d like to RSVP as pending.
Looked like Mia Benson had a sense of humor. And understood pop culture better than he expected her to. He wanted to keep her playful side engaged, so he sent Alexis Rose from the same show saying, “Harsh.” And then he immediately followed with Judd Nelson from The Breakfast Club saying, “I’m crushed.”
She came back with a sexy woman. “It is what it is,” and followed with Shania Twain saying, “That don’t impress me much.”
This time, rather than a gif, he just responded with a simple text: Let the wooing begin.
Chapter Eight
Mia sat in the outer office of McNamara’s Auction House, waiting for Gwen Schafer, Caleb Small’s “girl” who would give her an insider’s view of the auction procedure. While she waited, she couldn’t help but look back over her conversation with Logan last night. She’d felt silly at first, answering him with a gif, but it seemed to fit. And based on his reaction, it had been the right move.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been intrigued by his declaration of his intent to woo her. Ten years ago, men might’ve made the attempt, but that was simply because of her last name. Now that name was reason enough for no man to consider wooing her. She should be grateful to have their attention. As if.
No man was worth all that.
But if Logan’s kiss was used to gauge his ability to woo, she was in trouble.
“Dr. Benson?” a woman called from the door.
Mia stood and met her. “Yes.”
“I’m Gwen. So sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem at all. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule for this. I’ve never been behind the scenes of an auction, and when Caleb told me he was planning to sell his Spenser, I became curious.”
“Things are a little busy around here. Our next auction is shaping up to be one of the biggest we’ve had in years.” She opened the door behind her and ushered Mia through. “What would you like to know?”
“I’m really interested in the process from acquisition to sale. I know what it looks like from the buyer’s perspective, but now that I’ve been working as a curator and I know everything we have to do behind the scenes... Well, you know.”
Gwen laughed lightly. “I do. Let’s start where the art does. This way.” She led Mia down a hall toward the back of the building.
If she were given to fanciful ideas, Mia would consider the location perfect for a serial killer scene on a crime show.
Gwen pushed open doors to a warehouse that was dim but clean. “Of course, as you’re aware, the actual work starts in my office, talking to prospective sellers, arranging for pickup, delivery, and authentication. I doubt you need to witness the amount of paper shuffling I do any given day.” Another light laugh.
“Our systems sound similar in that way. You arrange for the delivery of the art? I thought that was the owner’s responsibility.”
“It is, technically, but we offer it as an additional service. We have a number of licensed, insured contractors we work with, and it makes things easier for the owner.”
They walked through the space filled with crates and shelves of items, just lying out.
As she walked by, Mia couldn’t tell if any were priceless artifacts, but it still appeared very irresponsible. “You bring in the art and it just sits in this warehouse?”
Gwen turned and walked backward while she talked. “This is the receiving area. The truck comes in, we accept the delivery and uncrate it to make sure nothing was damaged.” She swirled her hand around above her head. “It might not like look like much, but we have top-of-the-line security with guards monitoring the cameras twenty-four-seven.”
“I’m assuming the authentication doesn’t take place here. No offense, but the lighting is dreadful.”
“We bring each piece to the rooms we’re heading to now. I imagine they look similar to the conservation rooms at the Art Institute.” They entered a hallway and Gwen opened one door and flicked on the light. It did, in fact, resemble the conservation rooms. Various types of lighting and magnifying glasses, as well as gloves and brushes. “I can’t show you all of the rooms because they’re being used, but they’re similar to this one. As you know, authentication often lasts days.”
“Sometimes longer. What happens if the authentication does require more time or an additional opinion?”
“We don’t take second opinions. If our staff deems an artifact...unsuitable, we return it to the owner.”
Mia smiled at the way Gwen stumbled over unsuitable. “Is there greater concern about forgeries as of late?”
“I assume you’re referring to the Mathis and the Devereaux?”
Mia nodded.
“We have faith in our staff. We have excellent security. And we’ve never miscalculated the authenticity of an artifact.” It wasn’t boastful; Gwen simply stated fact.
Which, of course, caused huge issues for Mia and her team.
“Once a piece is authenticated?” Mia prompted.
“Then it goes to our showroom. We place every piece on display in a manner to highlight its best qualities. We photograph them and create the auction brochure.” They pushed through another set of doors to a large room that was clearly divided into a staging area and a prop area.
Mia carefully looked around, as she had in each room on this journey, making sure her camera necklace captured images for Nikki. Security cameras were posted in the corners, but she didn’t see any motion sensors as she had in the warehouse.
“And then the items sit here until auction day when people can view them?”
“Yes.”
Mia stepped closer to a painting on the wall. It didn’t look famous or terribly expensive. Even so, nothing was roped off to keep viewers at a distance. She supposed the assumption would be that wealthy people had the manners to know not to touch the art. She ran a finger over the edge of the frame. “This is beautiful.”
“Please don’t touch,” Gwen said, the slight edge of panic in her voice.
“Sorry. I would never touch the painting. I was looking at the frame.”
“I understand. But that is already set for an auction we have going tomorrow, so the security is live. If you move the painting, it will set off the alarm.”
“Oh.” Mia placed a hand on her chest. “I’m so sorry. Of course, I should know better. I was just thinking about how when I’m in the back, such as the conservation rooms, there are no alarms directly on the paintings.”
Gwen leaned forward. “We’re trying a new method with these.” She pointed to a placard on the wall.
It cautioned people to not attempt to touch or move artifacts because doing so would trigger the magnetic alarm. Mia stood directly in front of the sign so Audrey would be able to get enough details to investigate, but based on the information in front of her, it seemed like stealing from the auction house was not the way to go.
Gwen led her back through the maze of rooms and halls to the front of the building.
“Thank you so much for indulging me,” Mia said. “It was definitely enlightening.”
“No problem. I love to talk shop with people who understand. Those outside of the art world simply don’t get it.”
“I know what you mean,” Mia commiserated. “Let me know if there’s a way for me to repay the favor. A VIP tour of the museum maybe.”
All the talk of the conservation rooms and VIP tours had her thinking of Logan again.
“That would be fabulous,” Gwen said.
“I’ll be in touch and we can set something up.” She shook Gwen’s hand and stepped out into the bright late-morning sun.
Then, using her burner phone, she called Nikki. “I just finished at the auction house.”
“And?”
“We’re well and truly fucked.”
* * *
Logan sat in the conference room again, this time waiting for Agents Halloran and Lewis who were heading up the investigation on Benson and Towers. His search into Mia had netted very little, and as his attraction grew, he needed to make sure he could pursue her without conflict. He played on his phone while he waited, looking over their conversation from the previous night.
He’d created a challenge, and wooing Mia would require finesse and consideration. She came from money, so he didn’t think gifts would win her over. No, Mia needed experiences different than what she was used to. Other than their first date over pizza, the only times he’d seen her so far was at fancy parties and fundraisers and at work. He wondered what she liked to do for fun.
The door beside him opened and two agents walked in. Logan stood and tucked his phone in his pants pocket.
The first man, who was about as tall as Logan but built like a linebacker, reached out and said, “Ron Lewis.”
“Logan Ford.” Then Logan turned toward the shorter man, who was barely five foot five, and shook his hand.
“Tim Halloran.” He gestured for Logan to sit back down. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m working an art theft and forgery case and SSA Taggert suggested I reach out to you about some possible overlap with your Benson and Towers case.”
Lewis perked up at the mention of Benson and Towers. “What do you got?”
“I don’t know if it’s anything, but I’ve met Mia Benson and I wanted to get your take on her.”
“Ice princess,” Halloran said. “You think she’s stealing and forging art?”
“Personally, no. But seeing as the two cases we have involve men who are friends with her family...due diligence and all that.”
“Oh.” Lewis deflated a little.
“What do you think about Mia? Does she fit into your case at all?”
Halloran sat back and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He looked a little like a villain in an action movie. “She claims she knew nothing about what her father was doing.”
“Do you believe her?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. You know that. I’ve got no proof.”
“But,” Lewis said, “once he fled, she was pissed. She came at us like we hadn’t been doing our job. Even paid for a PI to track him.”
“Really?” Although he already knew this part, Logan didn’t want them to know he’d been seeing Mia socially.
“She shared the findings with us. Looks like he and Towers are still in Montenegro, which does jack shit for us, but why go to those lengths if she’s in on it?”
Logan agreed.
Halloran, on the other hand, had a different take. “Maybe she’s all about making sure he takes the fall. That would explain why she wouldn’t authorize us to tap her phone.”
“Why would you ask?”
“She came to us about week or so ago and said Dad called her looking for money. I asked if we could tap her line to get a bead on him, and she refused.”
Logan couldn’t blame her. That would be giving up all privacy in the hopes they could trace. And if the men were still in a non-extradition country, a trace would be pointless.
“My point is that she didn’t have to tell us,” Lewis said.
Logan sided with Lewis. And it had nothing to do with wanting to date her. “This case I’m on has me a little out of my depth. I was thinking about chatting her up, see if she could offer some insight into the forgeries. It’s her world, you know?”
“I don’t know about what she can do to help you, but I’d keep an eye on her. She’s smart. I’ll give her that. Maybe too smart.”
Halloran definitely had a hard-on for the Benson family.
“You think she’s into something?” Logan listened to his gut all the time, but maybe Halloran’s gut was attuned to something Logan was missing.
To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense Page 8
