Grace Cries Uncle (23 page)

Phyllis Forgue again made her way toward Bennett, working too hard at nonchalance for me to miss. Across the room, Liza had refreshed her drink and, eyes narrowed, watched the other woman stop Bennett in his tracks.

“More talk over here,” one of the agents said, drawing McClowery's attention. “I think that old guy, Neal Coddington, is trying to drum up intrigue. I'm hearing chatter about the missing key in several conversations.”

“I thought only Bennett was wired,” I said.

McClowery ignored me.

The agent I stood behind leaned sideways. Without taking her attention off the screen, she whispered, “Our people are wired as well.” She tapped her headset. “We're able to catch a lot and communicate with them.”

Another agent raised a hand. “Coddington dropped the rumor into conversation here as well. It's all they want to talk about now.”

“Eyes on the prize, people,” McClowery said. “Separate the wheat from the chaff.”

“Phyllis Forgue.” Bennett reached to shake hands. A preemptive move, as she'd clearly been intent on an embrace. “It's wonderful to see you.”

“And you, Bennett. You're dashing, as always.” The moment he released her hand, she tossed her hair back. “I've missed you this week. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Not hiding,” he said. “Business concerns kept me tied up.”

Peeling a stray hair from the side of her face, she stepped closer. “And what an impressive estate this is.” She inched ever nearer as her voice dropped a notch. “Still, I have a business concern that might be worth leaving home for.”

“I'm listening.” Bennett's tone was appropriately inquisitive, but I caught faint puzzlement in his expression.

McClowery tensed. “What do we have on Phyllis Forgue?”

All smiles, Phyllis whispered, “I recently came into possession of an item I know you want.”

“You have full my attention,” Bennett said.

She eased sideways, blocking the camera. “Where are my other angles?” McClowery shouted.

“Limited zone,” someone replied. “We have only the one view here.”

McClowery spoke under his breath. “I went over this with Marshfield multiple times. He knew where not to stand.”

“She stopped him there,” I said in Bennett's defense. “What was he supposed to do, tell her to stop talking until he could reposition her?”

McClowery ignored me.

The view widened, capturing a bigger slice of the party. Unfortunately, the angle didn't change. Phyllis still had her back to the camera, blocking Bennett nearly head to toe.

“Better?” one of the agents asked.

“No,” McClowery answered.

“Your full attention?” Phyllis asked provocatively. “What a delightful prospect.”

“What item do you have, Phyllis?” Bennett asked.

With her back to us, we couldn't see her expression. Her voice, however, rang clear. “I'm feeling playful tonight. I'll give you a hint.”

The control room fell silent.

“You'd like a hint, wouldn't you?”

“I'd prefer you tell me straight out.” Bennett shifted. I could see a sliver of his face. Again, I caught confusion in his tone. “Please.”

“Remember that conversation we once had?” Phyllis's words were smooth, coaxing. “About the lengths people go to acquire special treasures?”

“I remember.”

McClowery spoke into the microphone on his headset. “I want all eyes on Phyllis Forgue.”

Below us, subtle shifts in the crowd revealed our undercover agents. Their coordinated movements probably went unnoticed by other partygoers, but this bird's-eye view of the room made their objectives clear.

In what appeared to be spontaneous bustle, three agents moved in closer to Phyllis and Bennett. She continued to tease him. “And isn't there a particular artifact that stirs your blood? Something you've had your eye on, something that you believe has escaped your reach?”

Bennett played it cool. “Are you telling me that you have this artifact?”

“You're going to be so jealous when I show it to you.” She held up her purse and dangled it in front of him. “Maybe I should make you close your eyes.”

“You brought it with you?” Bennett asked. “Here, tonight?”

“Let's see.” She reached into her purse. “Did I?”

As the FBI agents casually surrounded the couple, Malcolm Krol wandered into view. A moment later, Liza swung
into the picture, clearly targeting the handsome Australian, who seemed oblivious to her attention. Liza tossed her head, straightened her shoulders, and moved in.

Bennett took Phyllis by the elbow. “Let's talk over there where it's quieter.”

The moment Bennett hit his mark, McClowery
whoosh
ed relief. “Good man,” he said. “Now keep her there.”

Four views of Bennett and Phyllis popped onto the screen. Now we were able to see their faces, watch their body language, and, most important, see what it was that Phyllis was about to unveil.

“Be prepared for searing jealousy, Bennett,” Phyllis said. “This moment belongs to me.” She pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle and held it in out to him. “Go ahead. You know you want to.”

Bennett's eyes closed for an extra half-beat. I watched comprehension wash over him. His face broke into a wide smile. “You've found the snail.”

McClowery shouted his disbelief. “Snail? What snail?”

Bennett gingerly opened the cloth to reveal a ceramic snail the size of a grapefruit. He picked it out of her hands and turned it from side to side. With giant white pearlized eyes and a disenchanted look on its flat-cheeked face, the snail looked more like a toy than a piece of art. “Wherever did you find it?”

“That's privileged information, Bennett, though I might be persuaded to tell you over dinner some evening.”

“Dinner?” Bennett repeated Phyllis's not-so-subtle hint. “Although I would enjoy that immensely, I really have been rather busy of late. I don't anticipate that changing anytime soon.” He handed the snail back to her.

She wrapped her fingers around his as she accepted it. “You know what they say about all work and no play, Bennett. And a man has to eat. Can't you find a little bit of time to share a meal with me?”

“It's very kind of you,” Bennett said, “but again—”

Having tucked the snail back into her purse, Phyllis adopted a patronizing tone. “Don't give me that line about important business that keeps you home. I won't take no for an answer.”

Liza swooped into the scene, slipping her hand into the crook of Bennett's elbow. “I've been looking all over for you,” she said to him.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh, no!”

Shooting an over-the-top smile at Phyllis, Liza said, “Is Bennett referring to me as a business concern again? I keep reminding him that this is the twenty-first century and there's nothing wrong with a mature gentleman's interest in a woman my age.”

I sneaked a glance at McClowery. The stone-faced agent fumed at the screen.

Liza squeezed herself against Bennett's arm. “Isn't that right?”

It was the first time I'd ever seen Bennett at a loss for words.

“Oh,” Phyllis squeaked. Her gaze raked over my interfering sister for a breathless couple of seconds. “I had no idea,” she finally said. Addressing Bennett again, she forced a smile. “You never fail to surprise me.” She tapped his arm with the tips of her fingers, “You'll let me know when the item
I'm
interested in comes back on the market, won't you?”

Phyllis not only strode away from the pair, she headed straight out the door. “Ouch,” I said to no one.

Liza let go of Bennett's arm and took a sedate step back. “I'm sorry if that was intrusive, but pushy people like her drive me crazy. She was about to sink her teeth into you and I couldn't stand to watch.”

Bennett had completely recollected himself. “I appreciate your concern, Liza, but I could have handled the situation myself.” He flicked a regretful glance toward the exit. “Without embarrassing the poor woman.”

“Then I apologize again. My mistake.” Liza fidgeted with
the straps of her fringed purse, as though preparing to walk away, but her eyes fairly begged him to ask her to stay. “I guess I'll leave you to your guests then.”

Bennett didn't stop her.

Liza bit her bottom lip. “The reason you don't want to talk with me is because Grace says I'm trouble, right?”

Bennett frowned. He didn't answer.

“She thinks I can't be reformed. But I can, really. All I need is a chance.”

“This is not the time for this conversation, Liza,” Bennett said.

McClowery waved a hand in the air and spoke into his microphone. “Get her away from Mr. Marshfield,” he said. “Make it casual. Unobtrusive.”

I wanted to be down there. “Don't you think Eric should have arrived by now?” I asked.

“I told you that he may send a proxy.”

“Then I really don't need to be up here anymore, do I?”

“You will remain in this room until further notice.”

I was about to argue when movement on the screen caught my attention. Bennett laid a hand on Liza's forearm, drawing her closer. “What did you say?”

“If you do this for me, I promise I'll become the sister Grace wants me to be.”

Between McClowery's orders and my request for release, he and I had both missed part of the conversation. “What did she say?” McClowery asked the agent in front of us.

“No, no,” Bennett answered her. “Before that.”

The agent started to reply to McClowery, but stopped when it became obvious that onscreen, Liza was answering the question herself. “I asked if you'd help me sell something Eric gave to me. I thought it was junk but now I'm starting to believe it may be kind of valuable.”

Bennett made eye contact with the camera. I felt as though he was communicating both disbelief and sorrow to me
personally. He lowered his voice as he returned his undivided attention to my sister. “Tell me about this item.”

We were able to watch their faces and the sudden alertness in my sister's eyes made my stomach clench. “No,” I said. “Please no.”

“It's actually three pieces. Gold and jewels in weird shapes,” she said. “I wasn't sure they were real, but I think maybe they are.” Enthusiasm caused her voice to rise. “Would you like to see?” She reached into her fringed purse.

“How did we miss this?” McClowery shouted.

Onscreen, Bennett placed a hand over Liza's. “Not now. You and I need to discuss this privately.”

She stepped back. “Are you putting me off? Hoping I'll forget and go away? Because I really need help.”

“You say Eric gave these to you?”

Liza nodded.

“Liar,” I said to the screen. “You stole it.”

“I'm not putting you off, Liza, but I need your sister's assistance.” Bennett adopted his most authoritative tone. He made eye contact with the camera again. “I'll send someone to find her. Where's Frances?”

“I'm going down there,” I said.

McClowery didn't stop me.

I made it down to the banquet hall before Frances made it to Bennett's side. “Liza,” I said with feigned affection. “Let's find a quiet spot to talk.”

“What's going on?” she asked. “Where did you come from?”

“This is important.” I kept a party-appropriate smile on my face as I steered my sister toward the exit door. Frances hurried over, but I waved her back. “Ladies' room,” I said, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Be right back.”

Liza moved with uncertain stiffness but didn't fight. “Where are we going?”

I knew I had to keep her soothed until we were safely out of sight. “There's an office upstairs specifically set aside for confidential business transactions. It seems as though you've been invited.”

“Wait,” she said. “How did you know? You've been listening?”

“Yes.” No need to deny at this point.

“How does Bennett know what I have to sell? I didn't get a chance to show it to him.”

“If it's what I think it is, he's been looking for it for some time.”

“So it is valuable?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how much I might get for it?”

I wanted to answer, “Fifteen to twenty years,” but I held my tongue. My sister clearly didn't know what she was holding. “No idea.”

We stepped through a door separating the public areas from the private, where we traversed a short hallway that opened to a staircase. As I'd expected, just inside, McClowery and two agents waited for us. “Hand it over, Ms. Wheaton,” McClowery said.

Liza paled. Her eyes were wild things. Her breath came shallow and fast as understanding dawned. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her purse close.

I stepped away as McClowery and two female agents took over. One of the women pried the purse out of Liza's hands and drew out an opaque plastic bag. Its contents clanked like heavy jewelry.

My sister sank to the ground to sit cross-legged, head in her hands.

The first agent upended the bag into McClowery's cupped palms. “These are even more beautiful than the photos.” He allowed himself two seconds of appreciation before resuming his angry agent persona. “Handcuff her,” he ordered the women. “Take her upstairs while I try to figure out if there's any way to salvage this mess.”

“You lied to me.” Sobs strangled Liza's words as she was tugged to her feet. Her eyes shimmered red; black rivers of mascara streaked her hot cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I didn't answer.

We were far enough from the festivities to be unconcerned about Liza's wails. I waited until the three women were up the stairs and out of sight to address McClowery, “What happens now?”

With both hands on his forehead and his eyes closed, the agent shook his head. “She had them the whole time.” Opening his eyes, he flung one hand up in frustration. “She's no good to us.”

“But at least you have three of the pieces.”

“Without the other five, these are useless,” he said. “The pieces were never as important as uncovering the organization behind the theft. Now we may never find Mr. X. We needed Eric to make contact tonight. We needed to get him to spill. And we would have. I know it.”

“He may still show up,” I said even though I didn't believe it. It was obvious McClowery didn't, either. “You never know.”

“Or, we can start all over again. Take another decade to find and target another weaselly con artist, get that person to infiltrate one of the toughest black market art crime organizations in the country, and hope that, this time, the whole thing doesn't blow up in our faces.” He glared at me before starting up the stairs. “Sure. Why not?”

The party was scheduled to continue for another hour, but the mood in the control room had changed. Everything from the agents' postures to their surly attitudes told me that McClowery wasn't the only one feeling the heat from this debacle, but he was the only one to voice it. “We've lost this one, boys and girls. Let's pack it in.”

“You'll be able to use the three pieces to flush out Mr. X, eventually though, right?” I asked. “There's nothing to say that you won't apprehend Eric at some point.”

“Do you have any idea how much effort or how many personnel hours it takes to set up an operation this intricate? No, of course you don't.” McClowery massaged his forehead. “You may go now,” he said. “Your assistance is no longer required.”

Days ago, I'd asked McClowery if Liza might have possession of the pieces, but he'd assured me that was impossible.
I felt like reminding him, but decided against it as I grabbed my purse from the corner of the control room and prepared to leave.

“Good luck,” I said.

He didn't respond.

Liza was being detained in the hallway outside the control room. Perched in a hard chair with her hands cuffed behind her, she was flanked by the two agents who'd met us in the stairwell.

Liza glanced up, then returned to staring at the floor. “I'm your sister, you know,” she said in a steely voice. “You're supposed to have my back, not stab me in it.”

I started to reply that she'd done this to herself, but knew my words would be wasted. “I'm sorry you feel that way.”

“I thought I could trust you. I thought I could trust Bennett.”

“By offering him stolen goods?”

Her attention snapped up at that. “I didn't know they were stolen.”

“You took them from Eric.”

“You know what I mean—really stolen. I only did it to hurt him—before he dumped me for that horsey-looking Nina. How was I supposed to know that those three gold chunks were so important? I didn't. Not until everybody started showing up here looking for him.” She sucked in her cheeks. Her stare was hard yet broken at the same time. “I thought that if I waited him out, he'd give up. All I wanted to do was teach him a lesson.”

“You don't realize it now, Liza, but you got lucky.”

She snorted.

“Eric isn't in hiding from just the FBI. He's in hiding from the dealer he double-crossed. That dealer killed at least one person already. You're lucky they didn't find you.”

“If the FBI knows all this, why don't they do something about it?”

“That's what tonight's reception was all about. They were hoping to nab Eric and get him to roll over on his former boss.”

“You mean all this was just to bait Eric?” she asked, using her chin to indicate the banquet hall below. “That seems like a lot of effort.”

“Whoever he double-crossed might be here tonight as well.”

“But the FBI has no idea who Eric was working for?”

I shook my head.

“It could be anybody?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It could.”

Her brows came together and her lips pursed. “A lot of people talked about that missing jeweled key tonight.”

“You should tell McClowery.”

“Should I tell him who seemed interested in the three missing pieces?”

“You didn't tell anyone you had them, did you?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I may have hinted that I knew where they were.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. “Who did you tell?”

“A few people.” She shrugged. “Can't remember their names.”

“Do yourself a favor and try to remember
exactly
who you spoke with and what they had to say. Then, when McClowery questions you, tell him everything. You got it?”

“You think I can use it as a bargaining chip? Maybe get off with a slap on the wrist?”

I doubted it. “It's worth a try.”

Behind me, the control room door opened. “Ms. Wheaton?”

I turned to see one of McClowery's subordinates hurrying over, his hand extended. “Is this your phone? We noticed it on the floor after you left.”

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the device from him. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said. “And don't worry about McClowery. He gets like this when things go wrong. Fortunately for us, that isn't often.”

I hadn't been worried, but thanked the young man for his assurances just the same. When he returned to the control room, I turned my phone's ringer back on. I'd switched it to silent shortly before the reception began. My phone's display lit up and I gave it an absentminded glance. Two missed calls. Five text messages.

“Have a nice life,” Liza said. “Make sure you tell Aunt Belinda where to write me.”

There was nothing to say that would make things better between us, so I opted to remain silent. Walking away, I tapped in my phone's security code and pulled up its phone log. Ronny Tooney had called twice and left two messages on voicemail in the past three minutes. Before calling him back, I checked my texts. All five from Tooney and all variations of the same theme: Call me ASAP.

I stopped to dial his number, relieved when he picked up immediately. “What's going on?”

“Did you listen to my messages?”

“No. What happened?”

He took a deep breath, then spoke very slowly. “Flynn and Rodriguez are at your house. There's been a break-in.”

I gasped.

“It's okay, Grace. They got the intruders. It was your buddy Eric and his girlfriend. They're in custody. I wanted you to know right away. Plus I didn't want you to panic if you came home while all the police cars were still here.”

Panic? I was thrilled. “This is great news, Tooney.”

“It is?”

“Absolutely.” I pivoted, heading back to the control room. “Tell Rodriguez and Flynn that, under no circumstances should they let Eric go free. Can you do that?”

“There's no chance, Grace. They caught the two of them ransacking your house. They got 'em solid.”

“Still, promise me you'll give them the message.”

“You got it,” he said. “They're taking off in a minute. I'll catch them before they leave.”

“Thanks, Tooney. You're a gem.”

Liza had been listening in and now she sat up straighter. “What happened?” she asked. “Who found Eric? What's going on?”

I threw open the door to the control room. “McClowery.” He was working closely with an agent in the far corner, but looked up at my shout. I held my phone aloft. “Eric has been arrested. He's in custody right now.”

McClowery's annoyance morphed into exuberance by the time I crossed the room. “What happened?” he asked.

“Eric got caught breaking into my house,” I said. “That's all I know.”

McClowery tagged the young man who'd brought me my phone. “Take over here, Wilson. I'll be back.”