To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense

by Sloane Steele

  Mia stood in the middle of the room, stunned. “How did you find all of that out?”

  “People tell me things,” he said.

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “That’s where things get interesting,” Audrey said. “Mrs. Bauer has decided to sell everything her husband amassed. Her bags are packed and she’s headed to Florida. Guess who she contracted to handle the estate sale?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “McNamara’s Auction House. Nikki and London did a drive-by a little while ago and took pictures.” Audrey cued up the TV and pictures of the Bauers’ house flashed on the screen. A box truck from McNamara’s was in the driveway.

  “Are they packing up everything and taking it?” Mia asked.

  “No.” Audrey crossed the room with her tablet. “From what we can tell, the truck is for donations. They’re clearing out the crap, but the estate sale will happen at the house.”

  “So Nikki just needs to go in and make the swap when they leave.”

  Nikki snorted. “Sure. Except when we did our drive-by today, I snuck in. They’re in the process of tagging every pricey item with magnet security. Unless Audrey can figure out how to bypass it, I won’t be able to move the painting.”

  “We can find a workaround for that,” Mia said. “I know how the technology works. I’ve seen it used in some smaller galleries.”

  “That’s good,” Audrey said. “Because she tried to explain it to me, and I’m totally confused.”

  “When is the estate sale live?”

  “I’ve heard next weekend,” Jared answered. “But McNamara’s hasn’t advertised yet.”

  “Do we know how they’re handling authentication on the artwork?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “So we need to figure out how to circumvent the new alarm and get Nikki in before it’s open to the public and before they authenticate it.” Mia’s stomach turned, and all the delicious food from the party sat like a brick. Maybe they should walk away from this one. But it was worth more than many of the others. This one would hurt her father. Even more than the Devereaux.

  Mia stared at the TV and the photos of Jerome’s house.

  Jared stepped next to her. “Maybe we let this one go. I doubt Candace has any intention of sending our fathers money.”

  “I was just thinking that, but you know what this one is worth. He needs this payday. He’d find a way to get it.”

  “Hell, no, we’re not walking away,” Nikki said. “London has the painting ready to go. They’ve only been in the house for a day or two. Maybe they haven’t even tagged the painting yet.”

  Mia shook her head. “McNamara’s knows what they’re doing. They’d protect the highest priced items first, probably at the same time they marked the things for donations. With no one living at the house, they wouldn’t risk not having an alarm on the items. Of course, if McNamara’s has taken over, I wonder if their insurance would cover the painting if it comes up a forgery.”

  “Their liability would kick in if it’s stolen, but if they’re covering the painting and it’s a forgery, they’ll authenticate first,” Jared said.

  “What if I get Logan to pressure them to authenticate? Would that help or hurt?”

  The room dropped into silence. She either had a brilliant idea or it was so stupid no one wanted to call her on it.

  “I don’t know,” Audrey said. “Let’s run it down.”

  The pictures on the TV disappeared and were replaced with a digital whiteboard. Audrey drew a line down the center of the screen and marked each column, pro and con.

  They each threw ideas out and Audrey recorded them, but ultimately, it could go either way. It would only be safe for her to get Logan to force authentication if she was positive Nikki could go in before the expert. It was a gamble. Nikki, of course, was always willing to gamble.

  “What’s the worst that happens? The expert says it’s the real thing before I can make the swap and we miss out on this one. You’re already considering that. If they sell the original, it also gives us cushion. We all know Logan is suspicious about all of these forgeries.”

  “Giving him one that’s not counterfeit would poke a hole in his theory,” Mia said. Her heart squeezed a little at the thought, because ruining Logan’s investigation could cost him his transfer.

  “But if it works, we get the painting and your daddy gets zip.”

  “Okay. I’ll get you the information I can dig up on the magnetic alarms, and you two figure out how to get into the house.” She looked at Nikki and Audrey. “Now that McNamara’s is on-site, they might have changed all the security.”

  “What about me, boss?” London asked.

  “You have the list of art we need. Whether we miss out on this one or not, we’ll need the other pieces.”

  “On it. Do you have a preference for order?”

  Mia rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “Right now, thinking about how to retrieve the Hardison is all I can handle. It doesn’t seem to matter what my plan is anyway, everything keeps shifting.” She pulled out her phone and screenshotted her calendar. To Audrey she said, “I just sent you a copy of upcoming events that we can use to gain access to the various homes. You and Nikki discuss where to go next.”

  Jared reached over and touched her forehead. She swatted him away.

  “You must be sick. You just willingly gave someone else the power to plan. You never relinquish that kind of control,” he said.

  “What can I say? I’m trying to be a team player,” she said a tad too cheerfully.

  Nikki was gnawing on a chicken leg from the leftovers. “Okay, you’ve totally creeped me out. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

  Mia picked up her purse. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  When she left the apartment, she suddenly felt exhausted. All of the hours of planning and socializing and having sex were catching up to her. Tomorrow would be a Logan-free day and she could get her plans back on track.

  In the car on the way home, her phone dinged with a message from Logan. A gif of a monster giving a little girl a hug along with a message telling her he was available if she needed anything.

  So much for being Logan-free.

  * * *

  Since Mia was dealing with work and family stuff, his plan for hanging out with her all weekend was blown. Instead, he spent it with his family and then going over all of his notes for the case. Monday morning, he arrived at the office ready to find some answers. Stokes showed up not long after he did, and they bounced ideas off each other. When his phone rang with a call from Atlas, he put it on speaker.

  “We have another forgery,” said Greg, the head auditor for the company.

  Stokes slapped the table. Logan took a deep breath.

  “I just got a call from McNamara’s Auction House telling me they refuse to keep Caleb Small’s Spenser painting in the auction because their experts have deemed it counterfeit.”

  “How did this happen so fast?”

  “When it came out that the Moreau—which was supposed to be in the same auction—was forged, they inspected it immediately. It was delivered Saturday afternoon. Experts looked at it first thing this morning.”

  Logan looked at the clock. It wasn’t even eleven. “What does Small have to say about this?”

  “He’s no different than the rest, screaming about how he purchased the original and he has no idea how he ended up with a forgery.”

  “We’ll head out now to check it out. Is this enough to be able to request an audit of all local holdings?”

  “I hope so.” He disconnected.

  Stokes looked at Logan. “Is it possible this has something to do with Atlas?”

  “At this point, anything is possible. I’ve always considered that there might be an inside person, but they’re not paying out on these
claims. If the owners come after Atlas, it’ll be long drawn-out court cases.” He stood and grabbed his notebook. “Do you want McNamara’s or Small?”

  “I’ll take McNamara’s. I’m tired of talking to all of these liars.”

  “Yet you chose to work for the FBI where you deal with liars and criminals every day.”

  “Go figure. I expect the lowlife criminals to lie to me when I have them sitting in cuffs. But when we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on in a way that should help these guys—assuming they are as innocent as they claim—their deception makes me reconsider my stance on going by the book.”

  “Noted. Stay off Stokes’s bad side.”

  “Don’t turn into one of these lying assholes and you’ll be just fine. See you back here in a couple hours to compare notes again.”

  He briefly considered disclosing his full relationship with Mia. Would Stokes consider him a liar for not telling her? Maybe. But he didn’t want Stokes to doubt his ability to do the job.

  When he arrived at Caleb Small’s, the man was pacing the front of his house, talking on the phone, gesturing wildly. Logan got out of his car and waited, trying to glean any information from one side of the conversation. Caleb was pissed and yelling about provenance and premiums, so he was probably talking to someone at Atlas, which meant that his sudden arrival might look sketchy.

  Small looked at him and said into the phone, “Looks like he’s here now.” He disconnected and slid his phone into his pocket. “You’re from Atlas?”

  “Yes. Logan Freemont.” He extended his hand and Small reluctantly shook.

  “You people better figure this out. You appraised the painting when I purchased it. It’s been hanging in the same spot for almost five years, until it was crated up to be delivered to McNamara’s.”

  Logan nodded. “Can we go inside and talk? I’d like you to run me through everything.”

  Small sighed and led him through the front door. “What do you want to know that I haven’t already explained to your office?” he asked as he closed the door behind them.

  “I understand you filed a claim. But as I’m sure you’ve heard, there have been a number of forgeries popping up in the area. Sometimes doing a walk-through helps me see possibilities. Can you show me where you had the painting hanging?”

  The man took a deep breath, but said, “This way.” He led Logan upstairs and pointed to a painting on the wall. “It hung in this spot up until three days ago.”

  “Do you mind me asking why you decided to sell now?”

  “It was time. The auction house is selling a Picasso and it will bring a lot of attention. I wanted to cash in on that, get the most money.”

  “So you arranged to have a company come and pack it?”

  “Yes. McNamara’s gave me the names of their preferred vendors. I called one. They came out on Friday afternoon to crate it up. They took photos and submitted them to the auction house. Then they sent the delivery truck on Saturday to pick it up and bring it to McNamara’s.”

  “Why two different days? Why didn’t they just take it on Friday?”

  “They have one crew that goes around crating up and another that just handles delivery. Something to do with the trucks and the materials being separate from deliveries as a precaution against damage.”

  Logan pulled out his phone and texted Stokes to have her ask about the procedure while she was at McNamara’s. He looked at Small again. “Were you here the entire time they worked?”

  “Yes. They came in, measured the painting again, as if they couldn’t trust the measurements I gave. Then they went to their van and custom built a crate for my painting. They brought the crate upstairs, put the painting in, and nailed the crate shut. They asked where I wanted the crate until the truck arrived to pick it up. I had them take it downstairs to the dining room. That way, I wouldn’t have delivery people roaming all over my house.”

  They walked downstairs together and Small pointed to where the painting was set until the delivery truck came on Saturday.

  “Was anyone else home when they were crating the painting?”

  “No. My wife is out of town. I monitored the process myself.”

  “Does anyone else have access to your house?”

  “Without my being here? No.”

  “So no one else could have been here between the crating of the painting and the pickup on Saturday?”

  “No. I was home the entire time.”

  “Did you have any visitors?”

  “Actually,” Small said, with a furrowed brow, “A family friend stopped by pretty late on Friday.”

  “Was he left alone with the painting at all?”

  Small chuckled. “She was not.”

  Did Small just refer to his mistress as a family friend? “I don’t mean to pry, Mr. Small. What you do privately is up to you, but if you were entertaining a guest, she might have information.”

  The man shook his head. “I was not cheating on my wife, Mr. Freemont. I meant a family friend. Mia Benson.”

  Logan froze. Mia had been here? She hadn’t said anything about it. She’d told him she was working late. Was she coming from here when they met at her place? Logan blinked to regain control of his thoughts. “What was the nature of her visit? You said it was late Friday?”

  “She came by to seek my counsel. She informed a friend that he was holding a forgery, but I’m sure you’re aware of that, seeing that you were with Mia when she made the discovery.”

  “I was.”

  “Then I’m sure you know she wouldn’t have done anything. She’s had a rough go of it, but she was shaken by Keaton’s outburst.”

  Logan looked around the room. “No one else was here while she was visiting?”

  “No. She was looking for some fatherly comfort. That’s all.”

  “Did you show her the painting? Did she handle it?”

  “No. I pointed out that the crate was waiting to be picked up, but we walked by and went to the kitchen.”

  “And when she left?”

  “I finished my glass of brandy, locked up the house, and went to bed.”

  “Alarm?”

  “Set at night when I went upstairs.”

  “No breach?”

  “None.”

  “Hmm.” Logan didn’t know what was going on, but it stank. The whole situation. And now his heart and mind were beginning to battle. All this time, he’d been sure Mia had nothing to do with these forgeries. If that were true, why lie to him about working late on Friday? Why not tell him she’d been here? He hoped there was some logical explanation.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Small. We’ll be in touch.”

  “You should know that I’ve called the police and I plan to file a complaint. Someone must’ve made the switch. I don’t know when or how, but I own the real Spenser, and I will fight this.”

  “Understood.” Logan let himself out and drove back to the office. He listed everything he knew. Mia had now been with three different forgeries, calling two of them as such. Then she suddenly goes to see Caleb Small at the same time his painting is conveniently crated and sitting in the dining room waiting to be picked up.

  If she were going to steal it, why not just take it then? Why replace it with a forgery? It didn’t make sense. Maybe her visit really was a coincidence.

  As much as he didn’t believe in coincidences, he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mia had spent most of Sunday working with Nikki and Audrey to develop a plan to get the Hardison. They figured out a way to get in and out of the house, but they didn’t know if the Hardison had been moved from the first-floor library, where Jerome had kept it for years. If McNamara’s thought it would show better in another room, they wouldn’t hesitate to move it. The sale was priority.

  Leavi
ng Nikki and Audrey to work the kinks out of the route to get into the house to locate the Hardison, Mia went to work. She had to get information on the magnet alarms McNamara’s was so fond of using. She’d seen them and the security department at the museum had considered installing some for smaller, temporary exhibits.

  So, after lunch, she visited the security office. “Hi, Jeff. How are you?” she asked the head of security.

  “I’m doing well. What brings you down here? I was told we had weeks to develop the security protocol for your exhibit.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, you do. This is personal. I have a friend who’s invested in some valuable artwork and she needs some security information. We were discussing some possibilities—she’s so overwhelmed by it all—and I mentioned the magnet-type security that we looked at a while back.”

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  “Well, I was wondering if you still had the samples so I could show them to her?” She added in some extra I’m-sweet-and-innocent to her question.

  “Whew, boy. I’m not sure if I kept those samples.”

  “Shoot. Would you have saved the specs? Anything I can share with her so she knows what questions to ask?”

  He rose and walked around to a massive file cabinet. He rifled through two drawers and came up with a file. “Look at that! Past Jeff was a genius.” He handed her a file with the magnets attached.

  “This is perfect!” She opened the folder and glanced over the paperwork. She removed the page with museum-specific information. “Can I take this with me if I leave you the museum pages?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’d appreciate you bringing it back, though, in case anyone asks.”

  “I’ll have it back first thing in the morning. Thank you so much.”

  “Hey, if your friend is single, maybe you can fix us up.”

  “Sorry. She’s newly widowed and not ready to date, but I’ll keep you in mind as soon as she’s back in the market.” Mia left, congratulating herself on another mission accomplished with no problem.