One Wrong Move, page 25
“Yeah. He’s been lobbying for it big time,” Deckard said. “I spoke with him while investigating Mitch’s case.”
“And?”
Deckard shrugged. “Your typical politician, but surprisingly helpful at the same time.”
“How so?”
“Markowitz said Anne had been skittish lately. Not herself. He heard her talking in hushed tones on the phone several times. Said she seemed scared.”
“Of what?”
“He thought maybe it was boyfriend or ex-boyfriend trouble. He asked if she was okay, she said yes, and he let it go.”
“If he’d said something more, told somebody, maybe she wouldn’t be dead.”
“I doubt he could have done much. There wasn’t anything other than suppositions to tell. If she was scared, she should have gone to the police.”
“If it was about Simmons, she was probably scared. He’s a powerful man,” Harper said. “And Mitch?”
“A real estate developer. Nice home. Pretty wife . . .”
“That he cheated on.”
“Yep. And who divorced him when he was found guilty,” Deckard added.
“She believed he did it?” Harper said.
“Yeah.”
“Did she say why?”
“Kim said he liked getting his way. If Anne had broken things off with him, he would have become angry.”
“And she thought angry enough to kill?” Harper asked.
“That’s when she stopped talking to me. Said she was finished with Mitch and the better off for it.” And she never looked back. With a cheating husband, he couldn’t blame her.
“I’d say she’s right.”
After finishing up with the evidence and returning it to the shelf, they thanked Mack and headed out of the facility.
“What now?” she asked.
“Boston.” Deckard smiled.
“Boston?”
“We’re going to talk with Randy Fox in person.”
“Not over the phone?”
“I need to see body language, facial expressions to tell if he’s lying. We’ll probably get a lot more out of him in person.”
“Because you’re intimidating?” She smirked.
He arched a brow. “You think I’m intimidating?”
“Not to me, but you have that presence when on a case.”
“Let’s hope it works on Randy and Todd, because I think one of them holds the answers we need.”
FIFTY-FIVE
CHRISTIAN HELD THE DOOR to MIS open for Andi.
“Andi,” Greyson said, standing. “A pleasure to see you again.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“Andi.” Riley smiled as she rounded the corner into the lobby of the office. “I didn’t know you guys would be in today.”
“We’ve got so much going,” Christian said. “We could use a round table.”
“I’ll make the drinks,” Greyson said.
Ten minutes later, they all congregated around the round table in the conference room. Greyson took his usual seat by the glass panels, his espresso on the ledge beside him, a black dry erase marker in hand. “So catch us up,” he said.
Christian looked at Andi. “Where to begin?”
“Tad,” she said.
“Right. Tad cracked.”
“He confessed?” Riley said. “I knew it. Such a little weasel.”
“Run us through it,” Greyson said.
Christian gestured for Andi to proceed, and she relayed the entire conversation with Tad.
“Joel is escorting Tad to the PO box he made drops at with Julia,” Christian added when Andi wrapped up. “He said he’d keep us posted.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt anything will be found at this point, given Tad owns no more galleries to rob,” Andi said.
“You think Tad’s safe,” Riley asked, “considering what they did to Alex and Julia?”
Christian exhaled. “As long as he’s in police custody.”
Riley crossed her legs. “And if he’s released on bail?”
“I sure wouldn’t want to be him,” Andi said.
“Do you think Julia Brown was the woman’s real name?” Greyson asked.
“Hard to say. Her prints are linked to it—that’s how Joel’s search found her. They’re still running the sketch on the news, so hopefully someone that knows more will see it. If we find out more about her, maybe we can find a tie to our two robbers,” Christian said before taking a sip of his double espresso.
“And where they’re going to hit next. Assuming this isn’t over,” Greyson said.
“You think it isn’t?” Riley asked.
“No,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Agreed,” Riley said, then looked at Andi. “Any ideas?”
“Nothing certain, but I have a theory.”
Christian arched a brow.
“It just came to me on the way over,” she continued. “Think of the specific items that have been taken.” She pulled her notebook and a catalog from her satchel. “My boss sent the catalog of Tad’s collections over when the case started.” She flipped the catalog open. “All of the pieces taken are either Aztec in origin or were from Mexico. His are rare collections, even the wine he’s amassed—some of the rarest in the world, but that’s gone thanks to the fire. So they got nothing from the Taos gallery.”
Greyson draped one hand over his knee. “But you think they’re amassing a collection for a particular collector. Someone with lots of money and a taste for the finer things?”
“Exactly,” she said.
Christian loved to watch Greyson’s mind work.
“So . . . the question is,” Riley said, “if they are planning to hit another gallery, which ones contain an Aztec or Mexican heritage collection?”
“Exactly,” Andi said.
Christian looked at Andi. “Let’s start researching.”
She nodded. “And it would be a good idea to cross-reference any that you installed the security system at, along with any that my company insures.”
Christian sat back and stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles. “Excellent idea.” He shifted his gaze to Greyson. “There’s one thing we need to do first.”
Greyson arched a brow. “Oh?”
“Confirm that Ethan Poppin is still in jail.”
Riley’s brow pinched. “Ethan Poppin? Where did that come from?”
Christian exhaled. “It’s a huge long shot, but he was livid I didn’t go through with the heist. He blamed me for him getting caught, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he tried to get some revenge . . . if he were out of prison.”
“Do you really think he could pull off this level of heists?” Greyson asked.
Christian sat forward, propping his elbow on the table. “His being involved doesn’t make sense for three reasons. First, he should still be in jail. He has years left on his sentence. Second, to answer your question, no. He was never that good, which is why he got caught. And third, all the notes have been directed at Andi and written in a woman’s handwriting—I’m assuming Julia did them before she was killed. So, to me, it makes far more sense that it’s someone Andi busted, if revenge is our thieves’ motivator. However . . .” He linked his fingers together. “I want to cover all my bases.”
“Grant has gone through the list of those I had a hand in convicting,” Andi said. “They are accounted for. Two are under house arrest and the two on parole are where they’re supposed to be. None seem to have the funds to hire someone either. But . . .”
“I can do some financial digging,” Greyson offered.
“That’d be great,” Andi said. “You just never know.”
“Which is why I want to rule Ethan out,” Christian said. “Rule out all possibilities, no matter how remote.”
Greyson smiled at the saying he’d always impressed upon the team. “The other factor to consider is whether Ethan might be pulling the strings from behind bars. Sadly, it happens more often than we’d like to think.”
“Agreed.” Christian nodded.
“I’ll place a call to the warden while you guys research potential galleries,” Greyson said.
Christian took a sharp inhale and streamed it out. He needed to relax. It was probably a fool’s errand to even check. Ethan had never been that good, but something wove its way inside him this morning, whispering Ethan’s name. And it wouldn’t let go.
FIFTY-SIX
CHRISTIAN LOOKED to the door the minute Greyson returned from his desk, a legal pad in hand. “What’s the word?”
“They kept me on hold forever and then told me the warden would have to call me back. No one would answer my questions. They said I had to wait for the warden.” He looked to the glass panels. “So I see you’ve made progress.”
“Riley has been a huge help,” Andi said. “And she’s fast.”
“Andi’s additions were off the top of her head,” Riley said. “Impressive memory.”
“I just studied heists of the past, the catalogs of the galleries my company insures.” Andi shrugged. “My only recollection of back-to-back heists were two heists that two teens pulled off. Two teens who ended up in juvie.” Her quizzical gaze shifted to Christian.
He gave her an I’m-busted smile.
“I remember they were masterful heists. The thieves—you and Ethan—only got caught because of trying to move a stolen piece too fast and public.”
“That was Ethan.”
“I hate to say impressive, but the execution of them was.”
“But we deserved jail for what we did,” he said.
“And you served your time.”
Riley’s gaze bounced between the two of them. “And it’s in the past,” she said, always standing up for her big brothers.
“Exactly.” Andi nodded. “But it’s no wonder you’re so good at busting them.”
“I wish I was in this case.”
“We’ll get them,” she said with assurance, then cast her gaze at Greyson. Christian’s followed. Grey still stood by the glass columns with writing in black scrolled across them.
“What are the two columns for?” he asked.
“The list on the left are galleries where I’ve consulted on or upgraded their security system,” Christian said. “The right column are galleries in New Mexico, Arizona, California, and Utah with collections that might interest our thieves. They have the most Aztec and Mesoamerican collections in the country.”
“What’s with the underlined ones?” Greyson asked, moving to take a seat at the table.
Riley popped a butterscotch into her mouth and tossed the wrapper on the table.
Greyson stared at it, then her.
Christian smirked. He gave it thirty seconds.
Twenty seconds in, Greyson reached for the wrapper and tossed it in the trash.
“I would have gotten it,” Riley said.
“Sure you would have,” Greyson said. “That’s why I find wrappers all over the place. I sat on one in my chair today.”
“Oops,” Riley said.
“What were you doing at my desk, anyway?”
“I needed a stapler and couldn’t find mine.”
Greyson smiled—that half smile of his. “That’s why everything was out of place.”
“I put things back,” Riley insisted.
Andi leaned over, her mouth by Christian’s ear, her breath warm and tickling. “Are they always like this?” she whispered.
“Usually worse,” he said, fighting the urge to forget the Bickersons were in the room and pull Andi into his arms and—
“Not where they belong,” Greyson countered, yanking Christian from his thoughts.
“Show me,” Riley said, tapping her pen on her notepad.
“I already straightened them.”
Riley shook her head. “Of course you did.”
Greyson opened his mouth for a rebuttal, then realized Christian and Andi were staring at them. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“You were asking about the underlined locations,” Andi said.
“Right,” Greyson said, straightening his tie. “They are . . . ?”
“Locations that overlap.” Christian stood and moved toward them. “These three are locations I installed the security systems upgrades.”
“And Ambrose Global insures them,” Andi added.
“And the circled one?” Riley asked.
“Hunter Gallery in Phoenix,” Christian said. “Has all three. I installed the security system, Andi’s company insures them, and they have one of the biggest Mesoamerican collections in the region. Primarily Aztec.”
“I’ll ask my boss to give them a warning call,” Andi said.
“Good idea,” Christian said.
“Feel free to use the phone at my desk,” Greyson said, nodding at Andi.
“Thanks,” she said, standing and excusing herself from the room.
Greyson looked to Riley. “Her I trust to keep things in order.”
Riley glared at him, and Christian smothered a chuckle.
“Are you and Andi going to stake out the Phoenix gallery?” Riley asked.
“I think as long as they have security in place, we’re good. Besides, there are others to consider.”
“Three others are in Arizona,” Riley pointed out.
“And three in California,” Greyson said.
“It’s a crapshoot to try and pick the right one,” Christian said, his limbs tightening. Talk about a frustrating dilemma.
Andi returned to the room. “Grant is calling all the listed galleries he insures.”
“Great. Hopefully that will be a big deterrent,” Greyson said.
Christian exhaled. “I just pray no one else gets hurt.”
“I’m leaning toward the Caldwell or Jensen galleries,” Andi said.
“Why is that?” Greyson asked, steepling his fingers.
“Thus far, the thieves have taken small objects, easy for transport. The other collections have a lot of larger pieces,” Andi said, crossing her legs.
“Small,” Christian said, “but highly valuable.”
“So they did their homework,” Riley said.
“Most definitely.” Andi tapped her notepad with her pen.
“And the heists look like art in themselves,” Christian said. “You should have seen how flawlessly things went until the camera feeds were cut.”
Andi cleared her throat. “Christian has an appreciation for their work I don’t share.”
“I don’t appreciate their robbing the place, but their execution was stellar. These are no average robbers.”
“Yes, but sooner or later, they’ll trip up,” Andi said.
“I hope you’re right,” Christian said, finishing off his espresso.
“One thing I’m curious about,” Riley said.
“What’s that?” Christian asked.
“Why those collections? Is there a high demand for those objects?” Riley asked.
“I can make a call. Check to see if they are in demand on the black market,” Greyson said.
“Or . . .” Andi said. “They already have a buyer lined up.”
“Another strong possibility,” Christian said.
“I’ll reach out to my black-market contacts. See if we can discover who that buyer might be,” Greyson said.
Andi’s eyes widened. “You have contacts on the black market?”
“He’s got contacts everywhere,” Riley said with a swish of her hand.
“It’s always good to have something up your proverbial sleeve,” Greyson said. “To be one step ahead.”
“Go on the offense, not the defense,” Christian said.
Greyson smiled. “Always strike first.”
“You should see this guy in a fight,” Riley said, poking her pen in his direction.
“Fight?” Andi said. “But you’re so dignified. I mean, not to assume . . .” She blushed.
“It’s all right.” Greyson smiled. “I only engage when it’s necessary.”
“It’s not really an engagement,” Christian said.
Andi crinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”
“He strikes first,” Riley said. “One swift shot to the jugular and it’s over.”
“Strike first,” Andi said.
Greyson nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
THE FIRST AVAILABLE FLIGHT to Boston didn’t leave until five o’clock the next morning, so they headed back to Harper’s for the night, though Deckard doubted they’d get much rest. His head was spinning, trying to compartmentalize all the information they’d been flooded with.
The final interview with Kevin Gaines had been the quickest. The man, compared to the others, took a different tactic. He went on the offensive, barraging Harper for blaming others for her friend’s mistake. When asked a direct question, he either deflected or gave a one-word answer with a grunt. The conversation, or lack thereof, convinced Deckard he knew more than he was saying, and Harper concurred.
Harper opened her door, and they beelined for the couch. Both flopping down. It’d been a long, frustrating day. Harper kicked her shoes off. “Feel free to kick your boots off. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks.” He did just that.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but my head is spinning. I’m running all the conversations over and over. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“I feel the same. Any of the people we talked to today could either be involved in setting Andi up directly or they simply looked the other way.”
“Either way, they’re despicable,” she said with a deep exhale.
“Agreed.” He feared he fell into the latter category. He hadn’t looked the other way in the same sense, but he had sent her away when she came to him for help.
“You okay?” Harper asked, tucking her feet under her.
“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“I’m not buying it.”
He chuckled. “No one could accuse you of being timid.”
“Nope. I’ve never seen the point of tiptoeing around something. So what’s up? Something is clearly bothering you.”
