Cat Got Your Tongue? (13 page)

“Monet made several of them?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Hey, I investigate how the art is stolen, not the art itself.”

“Maybe that’s why you have difficulty solving these crimes, detective,” she goaded, but didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Monet painted a series of Water Lily paintings—approximately two hundred and fifty oil paintings in total. In 1927, a few months after his death, his paintings went on display in various exhibits and museums and several went up for auction. About a year ago, Cole bought one of the Water Lily series for thirty million. It’s currently hanging against the wall in his library.”

Sullivan shot her an impatient look and slid to the edge of his seat. “And your point is?”

“That when Cole got home after the auction at Christie’s, the Renoir was placed against the wall beneath the Monet.” She leaned back in her chair, eyeing the detective. “Now you tell me. You’re an art thief in a billionaire’s house and you’re facing two paintings. One painting is worth eighteen million and the other worth thirty million. You’d kind of think the choice would be obvious, wouldn’t it?”

Sullivan’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe the Renoir was easier to carry because it was still wrapped.”

“No, Sullivan. Access won’t deter an art thief. They go in and take what they want, regardless.”

“So you’re going to tell me your take on it then?”

Alex smiled, realizing she did have a take on it. “As long as you promise me you’ll get out of here when I’m done.”

“Deal.” Sullivan was already standing.

“The thief goes into each house and selects a painting of far lesser value than what was available. The cat nabs the Renoir and the Monet, ignores the more expensive paintings, and makes a run for it.”

“But the Renoir wasn’t taken.”

“Only because he got caught. The plan was to take the Renoir.”

“And?”

“The cat ignored the other paintings because the buyer wasn’t after them. The buyer specifically wanted the Renoir and the Monet, regardless of their value. If these burglaries are related, then you’ve got one man, the buyer, related to both crimes.” She got to her feet and straightened her jacket. “My gut tells me it was the same buyer using the same cat behind both burglaries and he’s very specific as to what he wants. I reckon you have a private collector and he’s collecting something, perhaps a series of art works or something. It’s not about the money or the value of the paintings. What I want to know is what he’s collecting and why?”

The fact that they were zoning in on her clients made her feel as jittery as hell, but she pushed the thought aside, promising to deal with it later when she wasn’t under such scrutiny.

“Damn, Alex, you’re sure you’re not an art thief yourself?”

“As if I’d tell you.” The detective narrowed his eyes and Alex smiled. “No, Sullivan, I only think like one.”

He ran a hand across his unshaven face and released a noisy sigh. “So now my theory just went from being a random snatch to a double larceny.”

“Yeah, it did. Good luck with that one.”

“Thanks for the tip and the art lesson on the Lily Water series.”

“Water Lily series.”

“Right.” Sullivan moved his heavy frame to the door and then turned to look at her. “Stay out of trouble and let me know if you hear of anything else.”

“Right,” she replied in a deadpan tone. They both knew she wouldn’t call him.

He fixed her with a pensive stare and with a final nod, he opened the door and left.

Thursday afternoon

Eddie Jones closed the door to his rundown house, locked it, and glanced through the window. It was a ritual he always did when coming home to ensure that no one had followed him.

Turning around, he walked toward the old rickety fridge and pulled out a beer, capped the lid, and went into the living room. He flipped through a torn pizza menu and took a large gulp of his beer.

“Hey, Eddie.”

He whirled around, gagging on his beer. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed as he saw Alex sitting on the tattered couch in the corner. He lifted his sleeve to his mouth and wiped away the remains of his beer. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Alex gave him a smug smile. “You should be more careful, you know. I could have bumped you off without you even knowing I was here.”

Eddie glared at her. “How the hell did you get in here again?”

“Thanks to the tricks I learnt from you and my mother, alarms and locks mean very little to me.”

He eyed her with a suspicious frown. “I thought you don’t break into people’s pads.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what the hell do you call this?” Eddie slugged at his beer. “That makes you guilty of a B and E. Seems like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

Alex got to her feet and met his eyes. “I might utilize the skills she taught me to my own benefit, Eddie, but I’m nothing like my mother.”

“Yeah, so I heard.” He gave an unattractive snort. “Word on the street is that Jennifer’s daughter thinks she shits candy.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

Eddie shot her a sly grin. “This is the second time in a week you’ve broken in here. What’s up with that?”

Ignoring him, Alex went to the fridge and opened the door, surprised it didn’t fall off its hinges. “You need a new fridge.”

“I’ll add it to my Christmas list.”

“Seriously, Eddie. You’ve made enough from all the paintings you’ve fenced. Why do you live like this?”

She pulled out a bottle of water and grimaced at the dilapidated room. Although neat, the walls were several years away from a lick of paint and the worn furniture looked like something one would find in a dump yard. “The stuff you have in here is older than Noah’s Ark.”

“You want fancy, check in at The Coleson. So you’re going to stand there all day or you’re going to ask me your shit?” He sank into the corner couch and drained the last of his beer.

Alex retrieved another one from the fridge, popped it open, and walked to where he was sitting. “There’s been some action in New York this week.”

“And?”

“What do you know about it?”

He fell silent and Alex could see the suspicion in his eyes. “You know you’re consorting with one of the bad guys, right? You’ve made it very clear you’re not one of us, so you’re way out of your league here by thinking I’m going to give you any damn information.”

She shoved the beer in his hands. “Shut up, Eddie. You know there’s some bad shit happening and I know you don’t approve. Fencing stolen artwork has always been your thing but murder hasn’t.”

He averted his gaze, and Alex knew she’d touched a nerve. Eddie had always despised anyone getting hurt during a heist. That’s why he and Jennifer had got on so well—they had the same principles and played by the same rules when it came to planning a heist. Go in, nab the art, and get out. No guns, no one gets hurt.

“I don’t know much, Alex.”

Alex felt her patience thinning. She sat on the coffee table in front of him and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m not here to make trouble, but I need you to tell me what the word on the street is.”

“So you can rat us out to the boys in blue?”

“Eddie, they’ve marked my shields. Steven Bryson shot Cole during the heist and last night, he murdered my latest shield for a Monet. Two wealthy men, two paintings, and two of my shields.” She scowled at him, not taking her eyes off his. “You guys know my stand on this. I stay out of your way and you stay out of mine.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Eddie grumbled. “It’s only business.”

The anger she’d been ignoring all day stirred, but she forced herself to keep it in check. “Someone’s messing with my shields and that makes it personal. There’s no chance in hell I’m giving any of you free rein on my clients.”

He sighed and Alex knew he understood the anger behind her words. Although she’d never asked, and they’d never admit it, she suspected that Eddie and her mother kept a keen eye on the clients her company covered and casually leaked the information to their corrupt friends of the art underworld.

The deal was simple—she wouldn’t rat them out if they didn’t mess with her clients and make her look bad. For them, it was all about how Alex would look should something happen to a client on her shift. They couldn’t possibly know it had far more to do with the moral dilemma their heists created within her.

“Who’s involved in this?” Alex demanded.

“I haven’t stepped on your shit so back the hell off.” He pushed past her, uncomfortable with her intense scrutiny, and Alex saw the flicker of resignation in his eyes. “After you left the other day, I started asking around, but I didn’t get much on the gig at Cole’s.”

“So what did you get?”

“Word on the street is that there’s a big demand for a crap load of paintings with mega dough to back it. Cats are going crazy.”

“What paintings?”

“I don’t have the details. When I heard they were pulling into your shields, I backed out. That’s all I know.”

“Can you find out then?”

“I can try, but that doesn’t mean they’ll tell me.”

“Why are they suddenly marking my shields?”

He regarded her in silence, hesitation splashed across his face.

“Eddie?”

“Word is the job is bigger than you.”

Alex froze, trying to hide her surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that the amount of money offered far outweighs any repercussions they might get from you.”

The weight of uneasiness settled in her gut and she grimaced. “Shit, Eddie. What the hell’s going down?”

He shrugged. “I wish I knew. I’ll ask around again and let you know if I hear anything. They’ll be tight lipped with their info, but I’ll try.”

Alex mustered a weak smile. “Thanks. Call me as soon as you know the score.” She walked to the kitchen door and turned to look at him. “Have you heard from my mother yet?”

“No. Not a word.”

“Can you ask around about her too? It’s been a while.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks.” Alex let herself out, her mind racing, her shoulders sagging with tension.

****

Alex slipped out of Max’s office and headed for the elevator. The wound in her side had started to ache again, and she longed to get home and swallow another painkiller.

And see Cole.

Before she could process that thought, the elevator doors opened to heated voices in the lobby and Alex realized her day was about to get worse.

“You!” Vera screeched as she saw Alex. “You did this!”

Alex looked at the enraged woman for a moment. “Vera, calm down. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Several people had stopped in the lobby and were staring.

“I want to see my husband!”

Alex stepped forward. “Your ex-husband, dammit. You two are divorced. You’ve been divorced for months. Leave him the hell alone.”

Vera waved a finger in her face and glared at her with crazy eyes. “You only want him for yourself, you bitch.”

Vera was out of control and Alex felt a shiver of apprehension run down her spine. Glancing at the two security guards awaiting further instruction from her, she took Vera’s arm. “Vera, you’re making an ass of yourself.”

“Let me go!” Vera screamed and yanked her arm back.

The instant Alex nodded at the two guards, they closed in on Vera, taking a hold of each arm. Protesting loudly, she reeled back, broke free with one arm, and swung her bag at Alex. Her reflexes in top form, Alex quickly stepped back, the bag missing her, but the big, sharp buckle hanging from a piece of leather caught her eyebrow.

The guards scrambled to contain Vera again, but in the scuffle, she broke free and rushed forward.

Vera hit Alex with a force that almost knocked her breath away and both women went flying to the ground. The knock that Alex sustained as her head hit the floor didn’t deter her, and she sprang into action as her survival skills kicked into force. In one swift movement, she flipped Vera onto her back and scrambled onto her chest. She shoved a knee on either side of Vera’s face, trapping both arms next to her head and paused, panting. Blood trickled down Alex’s cheek from the small slash above her eye. She ignored it and tried to get a grip on her anger.

“Get off me!” Vera snapped.

“If you ever, ever, touch me again, I’ll come back at you with a force that will rock your pathetic world.”

“You’re going to call the cops on me?”

Alex tightened her grip, leaned forward, and lowered her voice so only Vera could hear. “I’m not talking about the cops, Vera. If you pull this on me one more time, I’ll bring an army of my men down on your head, you got me?” She moved back, her body seething with rage at the woman beneath her. “Now leave me the hell alone and stop harassing your ex-husband.” She climbed off the stunned woman and looked down at her. “You need to move on, Vera. This kind of crap is not good for you and you’re going to end up killing someone.”

Vera stumbled to her feet and gathered her handbag. “You’ll pay for this, Alexis. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me.” With a final glare at Alex, she stormed out the door.

Alex touched her cheek, ignoring the sudden murmurs that erupted at Vera’s hasty departure. She heard her phone ringing and glanced around in search of her bag. One of the security guards approached her, looking at her with a mixture of concern and open admiration, and handed her the ringing bag.

Alex dug out her phone as it switched to voicemail. Cole. She dialed her messages and listened, relieved when she heard his suggestion to meet at the townhouse rather than his office. With any luck, he wasn’t brewing for another argument. She’d had enough fighting for one day.

She touched her eyebrow and looked at her bloodied hand with a frown. Another gash. Now she really needed that painkiller.

Alex headed for the awaiting limo that one of the security guards had organized for her and slipped inside with a grateful nod. She thought about the friction she’d experienced in the last week and wondered if she happened to be fighting with the world or if the world happened to be fighting with her.

Either way, she seemed to be at loggerheads with everyone.