janet maple 05 - it doesnt pay to be bad (9 page)

Suddenly, Dennis bent down and grabbed the intruder’s shin.

“What are you doing?” the man struggled to break loose from Dennis, but his grip was firm.

Dennis yanked up his pant leg, revealing a bandage. “Proof. This was where Baxter got you when you broke into our apartment.”

The man tried to wrestle free. “What are you talking about? Who is Baxter?”

“Our Jack Russell Terrier who did a damn good job nicking you. I bet if we pay your place a visit, we’ll find a pair of pants torn in exactly the same spot,” Dennis added. “Now, do you want to start talking, or do you want to spend the rest of the night at the police station?”

The intruder held up his hands. “All right, all right! I’ll tell you everything.”

“Why don’t you start by telling us your name,” Dennis demanded.

“Can you please untie me first?” he said sourly, raising his hands. “I’m clearly outnumbered here,” he added, “so it’s unlikely I’ll run away.”

Dennis nodded. “Fine.”

“I’ll do it.” Tina stepped up. “The knots are kinda tricky.”

“I got it.” Dennis gestured for her to stay back. He reached down, but instead of untying the knots, he went for the intruder’s jacket pocket and yanked out his wallet. “Let’s see if you have any form of identification on you.” Dennis flipped through his wallet and clicked his tongue, pulling out the man’s driver’s license. “Well, well, Leonard Stevens—pleasure to make your acquaintance. So why did you break into this office, Leonard Stevens? Start talking.”

“I’ll tell you everything.” Leonard squirmed in his chair. “It just would really help to be more comfortable. Please untie me—my wrists are getting numb.”

“What a ninny. Tina, could you undo the knots?” Dennis asked. “They are kind of tricky.”

“Sure, no problem.” Tina undid the restraints and carefully wound up the telephone cord. “I’ll hold on to this in case we might need it later.”

“What is it with you people?” Leonard exclaimed. “I’m not an animal. You can’t treat me like this.”

“That remains to be seen,” Dennis cut him off. “How about you start cooperating and then we’ll decide what to do with you. Why did you break into our apartment? And why did you break into this office?”

“For someone who holds himself out to be an investigator, you sure are very slow,” Leonard seethed. “The painting—I wanted the painting.”

“But you just said you didn’t,” Dennis retorted. “So which is it?”

Leonard smirked. “I lied. Thieves do that, a lot. Otherwise I wouldn’t be caught dead in your worthless little apartment—”

Janet gasped, in spite of herself. She’d put a lot of work into decorating their new place and the cutting remark, even if coming from some lowlife, hurt.

“Or this lousy office,” Leonard added testily.

Dennis kicked the leg of Leonard’s chair, moving it several inches. “So, Mr. Wise Guy, are you going to start talking or what?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I was just kidding,” Leonard screeched. “Can’t anyone in this room take a joke?”

“You’ve hurt my wife’s feelings,” Dennis warned him. “And I don’t think that’s funny at all.”

Janet put her hand on Dennis’s arm and squeezed it gently, signaling for him to let up. “Now, Leonard, why don’t you start from the beginning?” she asked calmly. “These last two break-ins weren’t your first attempt to get the painting, were they? You followed us at the airport in Antibes when we were leaving for New York and tried to switch my husband’s bag. Now is the time to tell us why you did that.”

Leonard leaned forward in his chair. “Very well. I will tell you—I am a finished man anyway,” he groaned, clasping his head.

“Hey, Lenny, enough with the theatrics already,” Dennis said gruffly.

Janet squeezed Dennis’s shoulder. “Give him a moment. Take your time, Leonard,” Janet reassured him.

“Thank you. I am very grateful for your understanding.” Leonard sat up in his chair and took a deep breath. “You were never supposed to buy that wretched seascape painting. The man who sold it to you, Maurice, mistook you for someone else who was supposed to come into the gallery at the same time. She got delayed and you happened to be there instead—”

Chapter 7

Twelve hours after Leonard Stevens’ unsuccessful attempt to break into the offices of Kirk & Associates, Janet, Dennis, and Ham Kirk entered a nondescript brick office building in Downtown, Manhattan. The building was no different from any of the surrounding buildings in the area—if they hadn’t been given the address by one of the senior officials at the FBI, it would’ve been impossible to guess that its walls contained one of the FBI’s most robust task forces.

It was nine a.m. and the lobby was busy with arriving employees. After checking in with security, they were escorted to the elevator bank and then down a gray-carpeted floor and into a gray-walled conference room.

“Director Edwards and Agent Norris will be with you shortly.” The secretary who had escorted them moved to close the door behind her.

Janet took a seat, doing her best to look alert. They had all stayed up late last night questioning Leonard and then had to spend several hours with the FBI until it was almost dawn.

“Who is Director Edwards?” Dennis asked Ham. “I don’t remember meeting him last night when they took in Leonard.”

Ham cleared his throat. He was just as worn out as Janet and Dennis were, but unlike them, he showed it in his appearance—his eyelids were droopy, with dark circles underneath, and his usually erect shoulders were slumping. “Gus Edwards is an old friend of mine,” Ham said. “We go way back. He used to oversee Organized Crime, but I guess he got transferred. A pleasant surprise for a change.”

“Did they tell you what this meeting was going to be about, Ham?” Janet asked.

“I don’t have any specifics, but my hunch tells me we hit on something very big. Leonard Stevens may be a petty thief, but he’s working for someone far more important.”

“So his crazy story checked out. Then we really must be onto something big—that’s a pretty quick turnaround, even for the FBI,” Dennis said. “And here I was, thinking Leonard was feeding us nonsense.”

“Did they examine the painting—is it really what Leonard said it was?” Janet asked nervously. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that we bought a stolen painting by accident.”

“I wasn’t given any specifics over the phone this morning, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Ham replied. “The bureau has some follow up questions for you and Dennis as well.”

“This ought to be interesting. A gang of international art thieves—adds a nice ring to our resume, don’t you think, Janet?” Dennis winked. “I can’t wait to hear what the bureau dug up on this Leonard fellow.”

“I just hope we’re not the ones under suspicion,” Janet retorted. “After all, we did buy a stolen painting and brought it into the country. Who knows how many crimes we might’ve unwittingly committed?” Janet worried. “For starters, we didn’t declare it with customs—”

“We did declare a painting for the value that we paid for it,” Dennis objected. “How were we supposed to know it was a stolen masterpiece worth millions? We don’t have X-ray vision.”

Janet sighed, wringing her hands. “I hope you’re right. I wish we’d never gone to that damn gallery in the first place and just went to the beach instead—”

“Janet, Dennis, please calm down,” Ham interjected. “Until this moment the possibility of you being under suspicion didn’t even cross my mind—”

“But you did say that the bureau has follow-up questions for us,” Janet said nervously.

“Not as suspects. As witnesses only,” Ham clarified. “Apologies if I wasn’t clear about that—I’m too old for all-nighters. My brain’s fried. If it hadn’t been for your visit to that obscure gallery in Antibes, the stolen painting would still be just that. Just before we headed over here, the bureau thanked me for your cooperation.”

“That’s a relief.” Janet smiled. “I guess a lack of sleep is playing tricks on my brain too.”

“We’re going to get all the answers soon.” Ham pointed at the opening door.

The conference room door parted and two men entered the room. One was older, about Ham’s age, and the other looked to be in his mid-thirties. The older man wore a gray suit with a white shirt and a navy tie. His gray hair was shorn closely to his head, bringing attention to the sharp gaze of his pale gray eyes. His younger colleague was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and a burgundy tie. He had dark blond hair and hazel eyes with an intelligent, thoughtful gaze. He was about five nine; the effortless, catlike fluidity of his movements made it clear that he was in great shape. Janet instantly recognized the younger man as Agent Norris whom they had met when Leonard was brought in for questioning.

“Ham Kirk—it’s good to see you, old friend.” The older man walked over to Ham, extending his hand for a handshake.

“Gus Edwards—it’s good to see you too, old friend.” Ham got up from his seat and the two men shook hands. “I didn’t know you were working art theft,” Ham added.

“I much preferred it in Organized Crime, but apparently they wanted younger blood over there. So I got transferred. At least I didn’t have to retire—don’t know what I’d do sitting home all day.”

Ham chuckled. “I doubt the bureau would ever make the mistake of letting you do that, but if they ever do, please give me call—we’d be happy to have you at our agency.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And these are your colleagues? I only came in this morning, so I didn’t get to meet them when Leonard was brought in.”

“Janet, Dennis, it’s my pleasure to introduce an old friend of mine and one of the sharpest minds in the FBI, Deputy Assistant Director Gus Edwards. These are my associates, Janet Maple and Dennis Walker.”

Director Edwards shook their hands. “Thank you all for coming here on such short notice. I realize you all had quite a night. I understand that you’ve already met Special Agent-in-Charge Frank Norris—he’s in charge of this investigation,” he added.

Agent Norris nodded. “Thank you for providing us with such a timely and valuable lead. You’ve made my job a lot easier.”

“Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable,” Director Edwards said. “Would anyone like coffee? We’re going to be here for a while.”

Janet and Dennis shook their heads.

“Thank you for the offer, Gus, but we’re fine,” Ham assured him. “We had our fill before we got here. I had a hunch this was going to be a long day.”

“Your hunch was spot on,” said Director Edwards. “We had a very interesting chat with Mr. Stevens. I don’t know how you did it, Ham, but you solved one of the biggest thefts of this year. Agent Norris will give you the specifics. Agent Norris—”

Agent Norris rearranged his notes on the table and cleared his throat. “Two months ago a rare Monet painting was stolen while on its route from the Metropolitan Museum of Art to Musee d’Orsay in Paris. The painting in question was a rare depiction of Venice by Monet, which had been in a private collection in the U.S. and recently donated anonymously to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The painting was sent to Musee d’Orsay for a temporary exhibition, but never reached its destination. We were able to confirm that the crate containing the painting was switched during transport with an empty crate. I have been investigating this matter together with my colleagues in Interpol, but despite our joint efforts we did not have any leads until I questioned Leonard Stevens.” Agent Norris paused. “Imagine my surprise this morning when our experts confirmed that Monet’s Venice painting was hidden beneath the seascape that you bought on your honeymoon, and that Leonard Stevens so ineptly tried to steal from you. We have contacted the Metropolitan Museum of Art and let them know that the painting has been found.”

“But how’s that possible?” Janet asked. “And how did it end up in an obscure gallery in Antibes?”

“Monet’s painting has been painted over with a seascape to conceal it—it’s a common enough trick. The materials used for the cover-up painting are easy to remove and do not cause any damage to the underlying painting. In the past, painters often re-used their canvases and even though they didn’t care about preserving the underlying painting, in many instances the original painting could still be reconstructed in cases when it happened to be of greater value. My guess is that’s what gave art thieves the idea to use the same methodology. But I’m digressing here. The paint-over job was very well done by none other than Leonard Stevens. He’s an art student who works for one of the most notorious art thieves in the world—Armand Bassand.”

“But how did Monet’s painting end up in a small gallery in Antibes? And why did the gallery sell it to us?” Janet asked.

“The obscure art gallery in Antibes was the perfect venue for Bassand’s transaction with the buyer. It has been on our radar as a hub for questionable dealings before—it’s owner, Maurice Verdan, has a very shady reputation. He had several close encounters with local authorities, but he always managed to weasel his way out. We paid Verdan a visit in the beginning of our investigation, and many others of his kind, but even with our resources it’s impossible to have every shady dealer under constant surveillance. Lucky for us, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or may I say, in the right place at the right time.” Agent Norris allowed himself a brief smile. “Had you walked in a few minutes later, Bassand’s intended buyer would’ve snatched the painting and it would be lost forever.”

Dennis whistled. “I’ll be damned. It’s a good thing we went to that gallery after all. Janet dragged me there. I just wanted to lounge on the beach.”

“Could you tell us again exactly what happened at the gallery where you bought this painting?” Agent Norris asked.

“Of course.” Janet proceeded to summarize their experience at the gallery. “And then that man, Leonard, trying to switch our bag at the airport . . . And the gallery itself was so funny—the clerk there wouldn’t let us in at first and then he got overly friendly. I thought it was just French eccentricity, but boy was I wrong. I thought the frame was unusual,” Janet added after she finished her story.