Curse of the Jade Lily (12 page)

“I’m impressed.”

“Haven’t you ever seen the Lily before?”

“No.”

“It’s more impressive in person.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Anyway, here.” India chose a photograph and slid it in front of me. She took the magnifying glass and held it over the photograph where one of the stalks met the base. “Take a look.”

I took the glass from her hand and bent to the task.

“See where the stalk sprouts from the ground?” India said. “You’ll notice some imperfections from the carving process. There’s a tiny nick that resembles the letter
M
.
M
for McKenzie. I can’t imagine anyone carving a reproduction of the Jade Lily—especially out of imperial jade. I certainly can’t imagine anyone adding an
M
.”

I stared at the
M
for a while and then moved the glass around, looking for other telltale imperfections.

“Did you appraise the Lily?” I asked.

“No. We don’t do that here.”

“Who did?”

“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Mr. Gillard about that.”

“Have you met him?”

“Gillard? No, but I’m sure he can tell you who put a value on the Lily. There are a lot of private companies that do that sort of thing, although usually they get it wrong.”

“Value, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant, ahh, what’s the word?”

“Authenticate?”

“Authenticate. Did you authenticate the Lily?”

“Yes. When it came in. That was two weeks ago. There wasn’t much work to do. I didn’t need to perform any tests. The provenance was intact. We could follow the chain of custody back far enough that we were sure we were exhibiting what we said we were exhibiting. I spent a lot of time with it, though. God, it’s beautiful.”

“How did it arrive?”

“A delivery company that specializes in shipping expensive artwork brought it in. Dublin Pack and Ship. We’ve used them before. They provide what they call ‘white glove pickup and delivery.’ In this case they went to Gillard’s place in Chicago, packed the Lily in cushioning foam and an ISPM-15 certified crate, brought it here, and unpacked it. There were always at least three people with the Lily every step of the process. They charged eleven thousand dollars. Do you believe that? That’s a quarter of my yearly salary. I am definitely in the wrong end of this business.”

India had plenty more to say about jade in general—“The Chinese word for jade is
yu,
which translates to mean noble, pure, jewel, or treasure, take your pick”—and the Lily in particular—“Breathtakingly exceptional quality. It must have been done by one of the finest craftsmen in history, and we’ll never know his name. How sad is that?”—which made me think she didn’t mind being in her end of the business at all.

I have to admit that I am one of those guys who knows nothing about art but knows what he likes, and I liked India’s enthusiasm for the Jade Lily. It must be saved, I decided.

While I was deciding this, the door opened and Perrin walked in, followed by Mr. Donatucci and a man who was a little over or a little under forty, with hair that was thinning on top and clothes that were too tight. He breathed as if he were asthmatic. Either that or he was so out of shape that the simple act of walking down the corridor was enough to leave him breathless. Being a semiprofessional unlicensed private detective, I deduced that he had put on a lot of weight recently and wasn’t used to carrying it around yet.

Perrin introduced us. “Mr. Gillard, this is McKenzie,” she said.

“Ahh, the famous Rushmore McKenzie,” he said. He shook my hand briskly and smiled. “So they talked you into retrieving the Lily after all. Foolish, foolish man.”

“I hope not,” I said. “Have you met India Cooper?”

Gillard spun toward her. “Ms. Cooper,” he said. “Always a pleasure.”

Donatucci spoke up. “I was telling Mr. Gillard—”

“Jerry, Jerry,” Gillard said. “Everyone is so formal around here.”

“I was telling Jerry that the money is ready,” Donatucci said. “It’s been gathered, marked, bagged—”

“What does that mean, marked?” Gillard asked. “Do you put a little blue dot in the upper right corner or something?”

“The bills are funneled through a couple of scanners featuring optical character recognition software,” I said. “When the process is complete, you’ll have an electronic file containing the images of the bills—front and back—as well as all of the serial numbers. That way, if we do catch the artnappers and they do have the money on them, we can prove the bills were part of the ransom.”

“Do we really want to catch these guys? Once we pay off the ransom and get the Lily back, no harm, no foul, am I right?”

“How ’bout that, Mr. Donatucci?” I said. “One-point-three million. No foul?”

“Our primary concern is retrieving the Jade Lily,” he said.

“Of course. Anyway…” I turned back to Gillard. “The thieves won’t get away scot-free. The cops will go after them. Lieutenant Rask will insist on it.”

“Sounds like somebody else’s problem,” Gillard said. “Where’s the money now?”

“In a vault in the Midwest Farmers Insurance Group offices in downtown St. Paul,” Donatucci said. “Three bags, each weighing exactly thirty-two-point-six pounds as instructed. When the call comes, we’ll hand off the bags to McKenzie in the parking ramp under our building. There will be several armed guards keeping watch.”

“Hope they’re more reliable than the guards working here,” Gillard said. “Ohhh,” he added as he spun to face Perrin. She winced as he faked a couple of punches. “Low blow. A foul is called. The ref deducts points. No kidding, Perrin. Don’t worry about it. I’m not. So what happens next?”

“We wait until the thieves call,” I said.

“Well, we don’t have to wait here, do we? McKenzie, what’s this bar you were telling me about?”

We decided to drive separately since I might have to abandon him at a moment’s notice. I gave Gillard detailed directions on how to reach Rickie’s from the museum; he had a navigation system in his rental car, but we both agreed that it couldn’t be trusted. I asked Mr. Donatucci if he wanted to join us. He declined, saying that he would return to the office and wait for my call.

Perrin thanked me again for agreeing to recover the Lily, but I blew her off. I wasn’t sure why, but I was having fun again.

As we were leaving the storage area, India called my name. I turned. She tossed the magnifying glass to me. I caught it with both hands and stuffed it in my pocket.

“Good luck,” she said.

*   *   *

Gillard was parked illegally in front of the museum. I told him that this wasn’t Chicago and that fixing or ignoring parking tickets was not a privilege generally enjoyed by the better-heeled citizenry. He suggested that was just another reason why Minneapolis was considered a backwater burg. I told him to wait for me at the corner while I went to the ramp for my car.

The vehicle was parked on the third floor, but instead of taking the elevator, I jogged up the stairs. Seeing Gillard made me realize that I could afford to lose a few pounds myself. I used to exercise every day, take martial arts training to keep sharp, target practice at the range. Nowadays, I spent too much time puttering around in my kitchen and playing too many rounds of golf from a cart. You could see it on the ice. I’m slower, relying too much on my stick, not taking the body like I used to. I tell myself that I’m getting older, that’s why I’ve lost a step, even as I applaud myself for still playing hockey thirty weeks out of the year. That was just rationalization, though—the last refuge of a loser. The truth is, I was getting lazy. I was starting to enjoy my money too much.

I was breathing hard when I reached my floor, but not too hard. A couple of days in the gym and I’d be as good as new, I told myself. My car, a phantom black (that’s the color, honest) Audi S5 coupe with all the bells and whistles that I picked up at the bargain price of $71,000, was parked a half-dozen stalls from the door. I used to drive an Audi TT 225 until it was shot to death by a thug armed with an MP-9 submachine gun. I had been extra careful with this car, storing it in the garage for most of the winter, preferring to let my beaten-up four-wheel-drive Jeep Cherokee do the heavy lifting. However, among other things, the Audi had a splendid security system, and if I was going to schlep around a million-three in cash … I used my remote control key chain to disable the alarm and unlock the doors. I was reaching for the door handle when I heard him.

“McKenzie.”

He screamed my name loud enough from close enough to make me leap half a foot in the air. I spun around and went into a clumsy karate stance.

God, you’re out of shape,
my inner voice reminded me.

Lieutenant Noehring was standing in front of me, a brilliant smile on his face. He enjoyed startling me. His hands were inside the pockets of his Italian wool overcoat. I had no idea what was in his hands inside his pockets.

“Jumpy, jumpy,” he said.

“Noehring,” I said as if pronouncing his name would placate my fear.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

“This is the third time we’ve met in the past three days. Once more and I’ll have you cited for harassment.”

“Not to worry, not to worry.” He removed his hands from his pockets, showing me that they were empty. “Just trying to make a point.”

“What point is that?”

“I can reach out to you anytime I want.”

“Good for you.”

“But bad for you.” Noehring smiled his Robert Redford smile again. “Just remember what I told you and it’ll all work out.”

“You must have checked on me. You can’t possibly believe I’m going to give you the ransom. You’re not that fucking stupid.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such language. You know, you should do a little research of your own before you make such an important decision. Ask for some advice.”

“From whom?”

“Nina Truhler. Her daughter, Erica, too. Seems to me you’re sweet on both of them.”

“Do you want to die, Noehring?”

He smiled again. “All I want is the money,” he said. “I’ll get it, by hook or by crook. Think about it, McKenzie. Make it easy on yourself. And your friends.”

He turned then and walked swiftly to the stairwell. He disappeared behind the door. I didn’t know if he went up or down.

I slipped behind the steering wheel of the Audi and gripped it tightly while I fought my anger, telling myself to relax, relax, breathe, breathe. It was difficult. Noehring had threatened Nina and Erica. It was a calculated risk on his part because if he had indeed checked me out, he would know that I would kill for them.

I started the Audi and sat for a moment, listening to the engine purr while I pondered the same question I had asked myself the day before.

“How the hell did he know I was here?”

*   *   *

Gillard had no trouble following me to Rickie’s, and we entered the club together. I suggested a booth, but he liked the bar, so we pulled up a couple of stools and sat. Jenness Crawford was spelling the regular bartender, and after greeting us, she asked for our drink preferences.

“Let’s get this settled right now,” Gillard said. He tapped his chest with both hands. “Everything is on me. McKenzie’s money is no good here.”

“McKenzie’s money has never been good here,” Jenness said.

“Huh?”

“My girlfriend owns the place,” I said.

“That’s wonderful,” Gillard said. He looked directly into Jenness’s eyes. “You are lovely.”

Jenness blushed. She knew she was blushing and brought her hands to her cheeks to hide it.

“That may be so,” I said, “but Jenness is not my girlfriend.”

“Even better,” Gillard said. He stood on the rungs of the stool and leaned over the bar, his hand extended.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy Gillard.”

Jenness returned the handshake. “I’m Jenness Crawford,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Gillard said.

So the dance began, the two of them taking turns trying to outflirt each other. I might have been amused by the exchange except I kept thinking about Noehring and what he had said. Somehow my Summit Ale was served without my noticing. I took a long pull and wondered, how many times have I put Nina in danger? Just that once, I reminded myself, but that was already once too often, and I had vowed to never do it again. Now this.

My frustration must have shown on my face, because when Nina came out of her office and saw me sitting at the bar she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, that’s just my friend McKenzie psyching himself up for the big game like any great athlete,” Gillard said. “See the ball, be the ball.”

“What big game?” Nina asked. “Who are you? Never mind. McKenzie. McKenzie, you’re going after the Lily, aren’t you? You said you weren’t.”

“What do you know about the Jade Lily?” Gillard asked.

“This is my boss, Nina Truhler,” Jenness told him.

“Alrighty then,” Gillard said. “You’re McKenzie’s squeeze. I get it now. This is a great joint you have here, Nina.”

Nina ignored him. “McKenzie,” she said, “I thought you said you were washing your hands of it.”

“Some unscrupulous types appealed to his benevolent nature,” Gillard said. “They also doubled his fee. Hi, I’m Jerry Gillard. I own the Lily.”

“Then you’re one of those unscrupulous types.”

“Whose guiltlesse hart is free from all dishonest deeds or thought of vanitie.”
Gillard glanced at Jenness. “Thomas Campion,” he said.

“Nice,” Jenness said.

“McKenzie?” Nina said.

“It’s complicated,” I told her.

“It always is.”

“Sorry.”

“I guess I’ll have to go back to worrying again.”

“Nina…” I let the rest of the sentence hang there. We’ve had this conversation so many times in the past. I reached out and rested my hand on top of hers. She turned her hand over so she could hold mine.

“That’s sweet,” Gillard said.

“Does this change of heart have anything to do with Heavenly Petryk?” Nina asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

Nina released my hand and wagged her finger at the entrance to the club. Gillard and I both turned to look. Heavenly was standing just inside the doorway, unwinding a long muffler from around her neck.