A Rather Lovely Inheritance (28 page)

Jeremy quickly took a tour of the villa and the grounds. It was a little creepy, waiting for him in the garage.The sun was already setting and casting strange shadows everywhere. But soon he came back and announced, “Nobody’s here anymore. No signs of entry in the villa.”

“Jeremy,” I said, “there’s only one person I know who could have seen that painting in the London apartment, lusted after it, searched for it, and stolen it. Someone who likes to collect, buy, and sell art and antiques. Good old Rollo. Did he know all along that it was here? Is that why we caught him trying to steal the car, with that whole dumb bobsled story?”

Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t think he knew that the painting was hidden in the car,” he said.“I think he just wanted the car because it looked valuable. But I do think Rollo was aware that the painting existed, and when he didn’t find it among the contents of the villa that he’s supposed to get, he went looking for it in Aunt Pen’s apartment in London.”

“And when the painting didn’t turn up in the apartment the night he broke in, Rollo came back to the villa to search for it again, saw that Denby had found it, and swiped it?” I asked.

“Not quite. Rollo’s been in London all this time.We’ve had a man watching him since the night somebody broke into your apartment,” Jeremy said. He paused. “But he could have had somebody here in France working with him, keeping an eye out for the painting.”

“Yes! Remember those guys who were with him but ran away the night we caught him here at the garage?” I said excitedly. “One of them could have been watching this place, especially once Denby started inspecting the car. Maybe he even saw Denby remove the painting from the door.”

We made a quick search, but nothing else seemed to be missing. I picked up the toy soldier, and something made me put it in my purse, so I could talk about it later with Jeremy. I looked for the toolbox that Denby had filled with all the little oddities he’d found in the car. It was still there. Everything was the same, but something bothered me about the matchbook Denby had found. I picked it up.

Jeremy’s phone rang. He spoke into it tersely, then ended the call and turned to me. His voice sounded odd when he said, “Are you ready for this? That was a report from the man who’s been keeping an eye on Rollo in London,” he said. “Said that Rollo’s at the airport there. He bought a ticket for France.”

“You were right, then!” I said excitedly. “Somebody here alerted him that Denby found the painting. So Rollo had the guy steal the painting for him before we could see it.”

“It’s possible,” Jeremy muttered.

“Hey.This matchbook isn’t old, like all the other stuff,” I said suddenly, staring at the name of the Monte Carlo casino.“I don’t think it belonged to Aunt Penelope. But it had to have been in the car before you asked Denby to get involved. That’s why Denby thought it was something he should toss into this box along with everything else he gathered up for me that belonged to Aunt Penelope. But I think somebody else dropped it here.”

Jeremy wasn’t really listening about the matchbook.“I didn’t finish telling you which city Rollo’s flying to,” he said.

“I already know,” I answered.“Monte Carlo.” I held out the matchbook. “Rollo, you see, is a gambling man. He must have dropped it here that night we caught him.” Jeremy looked at the matchbook now.

“Is there a telephone number?” he asked. “We could see if he’s checked in—”

I called the hotel, and asked if Rollo had checked in yet.There was a pause, and then the front desk said not yet, but he had a reservation. I thanked them sweetly and rang off.

“You didn’t ask for his room number,” Jeremy observed.

“I knew they’d never give out a room number,” I said,“and I didn’t want to stay on long enough for them to ask who I was and if I’d like to leave a message.”

“You still could have asked.”

“No I couldn’t,” I said, irritated. Then I gave him a sly, truly inspired look.“Listen,” I said,“I’ve got a plan.To catch this thief and get that painting back. Care to join me?”

I
HAVEN’T MADE MANY GREAT PLANS IN MY LIFE, BUT THIS ONE, I THINK, was my best, and Jeremy didn’t actually say so, but he went along with it. And it would have worked, too, except for one little hitch.

We found the casino easily enough; it was inside an old hotel on the main avenue of Monte Carlo. The hotel looked like a big bridal cake, white with carved scrolls and curlicues as if it were iced with dollops of whipped cream. It was enormous.You drove up a private driveway that swept around the front of it, where uniformed valets and doormen sprang to your car even before you brought it to a stop, and they opened the doors and wrestled your key away from you so that they could park your car and keep the traffic moving. Which it did, with well-dressed gamblers hurrying to get closer to the money.

“Let me get this straight,” Jeremy said as we pulled up to the casino. “You think that the guys who stole the painting for Rollo are going to hand it over to him here?”

“Yes,” I said positively. “In a hotel room where we’d never look for him. I’ll bet he’s a regular here. Great-Aunt Dorothy really howled about it. He apparently has a habit.”

“Drugs,” Jeremy said. “That was years ago.”

“No,” I said. “He’s a gambler. Has oodles of debts. Which is why he settled the English will. So he could get his hands on the cash Aunt Penelope left him, to pay off his pals. But he’s also a compulsive antiques collector. You should have seen him, with his little antique cigarette case. I’m telling you, he can’t help himself with these things. Gambling, collecting, and selling artifacts of dubious origin, according to my parents.”

“Right. He got into trouble once,” Jeremy recalled.“Family had to pay off somebody to keep him out of jail.”

“Yes. I heard Dorothy criticize the people he hangs out with to gamble. She made it sound as if this casino was his home away from home—the perfect place for the guys who stole the painting to exchange it for cash. I just hope we can catch him before the deal goes down and he leaves.”

“Steady now,” Jeremy said. “And stop talking like a copper. He can’t have arrived yet. Just what we’ll do with him when he shows up, however—”

“I told you the whole plan,” I said. “Jeremy, are you with me on this caper or not?”

“I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble, you madwoman,” he said.

The hotel foyer had soaring ceilings, marble floors and pillars, a bar and tea lounge, wood-paneled gift shops and designer clothing boutiques, lots of giant potted palms, an elevator bank with gleaming gold doors, and, to the left, a large reception area for checking in and out.To the right was a well-lighted atrium, beyond which a dark, cavernous area led to the hotel dining room and, beyond that, the big casino.

Jeremy took all this in at a glance. “There must be hundreds of guests at this hotel, not to mention people who walk in just to eat in the restaurant or gamble in the casino,” he said. “Even if we could track Rollo down, how do you propose to get hold of the painting? Are you merely going to make a citizen’s arrest for art theft? Possession, my dear girl—”

“Just follow the plan,” I said tersely, and to my surprise, he did.We split up and communicated with our mobile phones as we cased out the hotel, looking for Rollo.

While I was checking the cocktail lounge and dining room, pretending to be thinking about making future reservations for a rather large party of guests, Jeremy went to the casino, ordered a drink, and sat at the bar to keep watch. I waited in the tea lounge for his call; I sat at a tiny table and ordered a champagne cocktail. I had my portfolio with me, but I kept it at my feet so as not to attract undue attention.

The cocktail cost more than I would normally pay for lunch. My chair was the kind that makes you sink deeply and alarmingly into it. And perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be drinking alone, because I started getting a few looks from some men at the bar, obviously on the prowl. I refused to catch their eye. It’s funny, but when you are very intent on accomplishing something, it translates physically into confidence, which attracts people. Maybe they think you’re on the trail of the biggest pot of gold on earth. I studied my drink, trying to look nonchalant.

Finally I got up and went back to the lobby, which had those big two-club-chairs-in-one, attached by a central shared armrest. One seat faces north, the other south, yet two people can still look at and talk to each other. I found one with two empty seats, so I parked myself on the side facing the main entrance. It was an ideal spot to watch people arriving.The waiter trailed after me, transporting my drink.

Shortly after that, my phone rang. Jeremy’s voice said, “This is a waste of time.”

I looked up, and there was Jeremy, walking across the lobby toward me, staring at me dolefully as he continued talking into his phone. “I see you,” he said.“Do you see me? Good. Because I’m coming to take you home.”

“Listen, my dear fellow,” I said. “Rollo just walked in the main door, right behind you. And with him is one of the skanky guys who tried to steal my car. The guy is carrying a wrapped parcel shaped exactly like a painting.They’re at the front desk now. Rollo’s getting a key. Come here quick, and don’t turn around.” I ducked my head, in case Rollo looked up.

Jeremy dropped into the seat attached to mine. “Do you see what I see?” I demanded. I nodded toward the reception desk. There was Rollo, all right, in a white linen suit and a panama hat. Accompanied by the aforementioned creepy pal, who was wearing a dark, ill-fitting suit.

“Yep,” Jeremy admitted, and he stared, fascinated, as the two men went up in the elevator together, with Rollo’s pal carrying the plain, flat package wrapped in brown paper and string. It looked like the kind of package you’d see tourists carrying around when they’ve bought a picture at a local gallery selling views of the Riviera to remember their vacation by.

We sat there and waited, watching the elevator doors. Jeremy drank half my cocktail. It wasn’t long before Rollo and his pal emerged,
sans
painting. I could barely sit still.

“He left it upstairs,” I squealed.

“Shut up,” Jeremy hissed. “They’re heading for the casino.”

“Jeremy,” I said, “you follow them, and proceed with Phase Two.”

“You’re out of your mind. It’s too risky,” he said.

“It’s our only chance and you know it,” I said. “Go. I need you to look out for me.”

Jeremy gave me a hard stare; then, resolutely, he got up. Within minutes my phone rang. “I found him,” Jeremy said in a low voice. “Roulette’s his game. He’s settled in for a bit. Believe it or not, I think he’s paying the guy off in chips. He keeps splitting his pile and sliding it in front of the guy.”

“Okay,” I muttered into my phone. “Proceed with Phase Three.”

“You fool,” he hissed. “Forget Phase Three.”

“You’d better do it,” I returned, “because I’m going ahead with Phase Four, regardless.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, all right. Wait for my call,” he said. Phase Three was for Jeremy to phone the front desk, say that he was Rollo and that he was expecting his little female American cousin to show up and they should give her a key to his room. A few interminable minutes later, my phone rang again.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “I did as you asked. Wait for me for Phase Four, you nut—”

“Stop gumming up the plan,” I snapped. “You should be getting ready for Phase Five.”

So I went ahead with Phase Four by going to the desk and being my most winsome, scatterbrained self.

“Excuse me,” I said in a sweet, I’m-just-a-dopey-American voice. “My cousin Rollo told me he’s staying here and—at least, I
think
it’s here.There’s
so
many hotels on this street, gosh, I hope I’m in the right one! Mummy said it was this, but she’s
so
forgetful sometimes . . . !”

“The last name, madame?” the bored man at the reception counter inquired. I told him, and another man behind the counter looked up and said,“Yes, your cousin called. He is at the casino, but asked that you wait in his room.” And he handed me the key to room 719.

From the minute I got into the elevator my heart began to pound unnaturally hard and I could barely breathe. It dawned on me that I was not really cut out for this line of work—spying, stealing, what have you. I thought that everyone—the young elevator operator, the maids with their carts, and the other guests at the hotel—must surely be able to hear my racing heart banging against my ribs.

But everything went as smoothly as clockwork. I found Rollo’s room, the key fit into the lock, and I slipped into the room unnoticed, because I waited for the maids to go round the corner. I’d listened at the door before I went in (I was proud of this foresight), and when I was sure that no one else was in the room, I phoned Jeremy on my mobile.

“I’m in the room. It’s number 719,” I said. “Proceed with Phase Five.”

That meant that Jeremy was to keep an eye on Rollo, and if he got up and seemed to be heading back to the hotel room, Jeremy was to alert me. Meanwhile, it was my job to find the damned painting.

“You truly are a complete nutter,” Jeremy muttered, but he hung up and continued staring at Rollo, who, he later told me, was drinking like a fish.

Rollo’s room was so empty that at first I thought the man at the front desk was mistaken.The bed was still made, and there wasn’t any luggage or clothing about, not even in the closet, as if nobody had checked in yet. But then I got that prickly feeling at the back of my neck again.The painting was in here. I could feel it. And I found it in the first real place I thought it might be. Under the bed.

I dragged it out and onto the bed, and my hands were shaking as I carefully untied the string and unwrapped the brown paper with agonizing care. Inside, plain cardboard lay on top, then blue tissue paper—then there it was.