Honest illusions(BookZZ.org) (62 page)

“This is a fraud. This is . . . an insult!”

“Monsieur.” The auctioneer tugged at the knot of his tie as people shifted in their seats and muttered.

“The Clideburg collection is one of the finest in the world. I’m sure you—”

“I am sure.” Luke nodded stiffly. In his hand he held a jeweler’s loupe. “This . . .” He held up the ring, pausing dramatically. “Is glass.
Voilà.
” He strode onto the stage, sticking the ring under the auctioneer’s nose. “Look, look. See for yourself,” he demanded, holding out the loupe. “Bubbles, streaks, banding.”

“But—but—”

“And this.” With a flourish, Luke pulled out an aluminum pencil. Those attending who knew gems recognized it as a method for distinguishing genuine stones from imitations. Luke drew the point of the pencil over the stone, then held it up, showing the shining, silvery line.

“I will have you arrested. I will have you in prison before the day is out. Do you think you can cheat Fordener?”

“No. No, monsieur. I don’t understand.”

“Fordener understands.” He tossed up his head, gesturing to the room.
“Nous sommes trompés!
We are duped!”

In the resulting chaos, Roxanne took the risk of catching Luke’s eye. Take your bow, she thought. The curtain was about to go up on the last act.

34

“The papers are full of it.” Roxanne nibbled on a croissant as she scanned the headlines. “It’s the biggest thing to happen in D.C. since Ollie North.”

“Bigger,” Luke claimed, pouring more coffee. “People are used to subterfuge and lies in the government.

This is a jewel heist. A magnificent one, if I say so myself, and that equals romance, magic. And greed.”

“The authorities are baffled,” Roxanne read and grinned up at Luke. “They’re testing every stone, called in one of the top mineralogists. Of course, all the standard tests were used when the gallery purchased the collection. Polariscopes, dichroscopes, the methylene iodide and benzene bath, roentgen X ray.”

“Show off.”

“Well, I did spend four years studying.” Setting the paper aside, she stretched her arms high. She was still in her robe, and naked under it. It felt wonderful to be lazy, to have this little island of calm before the next bout of excitement.

Over the rim of his cup, Luke watched the robe shift, gape and reveal a tantalizing glimpse of ivory skin.

“Why don’t we finish breakfast, in bed?”

With her arms still extended, Roxanne smiled. “That sounds—”

“Mama!” Like a rocket out of his adjoining room, Nate shot across the carpet. “I did it. I tied my shoe.”

Balancing one hand on the table, he plopped his sneakered foot on her lap. “By myself.”

“Incredible. The boy’s a prodigy.” She studied the loose bow that was already becoming undone. “This is certainly a red-letter day.”

“Let me see that.” Luke nipped Nate at the waist and hauled him onto his knee. “Okay, come clean.

Who helped you?”

“Nobody.” Eyes wide, Nate stared up into his father’s face. While his son was distracted, Luke quickly secured the bow so that it would stay put. “I swear to God.”

“I guess you’re all grown up then. Want some coffee?”

Nate screwed up his face. “Nah. It tastes yucky.”

“Let’s see then, what else?” Luke bounced the boy on his knee as he considered. “You know, Rox, it seems to me any kid who can tie his own shoes should be able to take care of a dog.”

“Callahan,” Roxanne muttered under Nate’s enthusiastic cheer.

“You’d feed it, wouldn’t you, slick?”

“Sure I would.” Eyes solemn, glowing with sincerity and good intentions, Nate nodded. “Every single day. And I’d teach him to sit, too. And to shake hands. And . . .” Inspiration struck. “To fetch your slippers, Mama.”

“After he’d chewed them, no doubt.” It would take a harder woman than she to resist two pairs of laughing blue eyes and two crooked smiles. “I’m not sharing the house with some yappy little purebred.”

“We want a big, ugly mutt, don’t we, Nate?”

“Yeah. A big, ugly mutt.” He wound his arm around Luke’s neck and looked imploringly at his mother.

This was his cue, and performing was, after all, in his blood. “Daddy says they have lots of poor, homeless puppies at the animal shelter. It’s like being in jail.”

“Low, Callahan, really low,” Roxanne said under her breath. “I suppose you think we should go spring one.”

“It’s the humanitarian thing to do, Rox. Right, Nate?”

“Right.”

“I suppose we could look,” she began, but Nate was already hooting and leaping off Luke’s lap to catch her in a fierce hug. “You two ganged up on me.” Over Nate’s head she smiled mistily at Luke. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to it.”

“I’m going to go tell Alice right now!” Nate streaked away, skidded to a halt. “Thanks, Dad.” He grinned over his shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”

Luke couldn’t do much about the grin splitting his face, but he thought it politic to pretend a sudden interest in his breakfast.

“You’re going to spoil him.”

He moved his shoulders. “So? You’re only four years old once. Besides, it feels good.”

She rose to walk over and curl on his lap. “Yes, it does. It feels very good.” With a little murmur of pleasure she cuddled against him. “I guess we have to get dressed. There’s work to do yet.”

“I wish we could spend the day with Nate. Just the three of us.”

“There’ll be other days. Lots of days when this is all over.” She smiled, and with her arms linked around his neck, leaned back. “I’d love to see how Tannenbaum’s doing right now.”

“He’s a veteran.” Luke kissed her nose. “We should be getting a call within the hour.”

“I just hate missing his performance. It should be a once-in-a-lifetime.”

Harvey Tannenbaum was indeed a veteran. For more than two-thirds of his sixty-eight years he’d been

a successful fence, dealing with only the cream of the crop. To Harvey, Maximillian Nouvelle had been the cream of the cream.

Roxanne’s proposition that he come out of his four-year retirement and play a small but pivotal role in an elaborate con had initially thrown him off balance. Then it had intrigued him.

In the end, Harvey had graciously agreed to participate, and to show his sentiments toward Max and the Nouvelles, had taken the job gratis.

He was even looking forward to it.

Certainly it was a new twist for Harvey. It was the first time in his long life he had voluntarily walked into a police station. Certainly the first time he had ever confessed—without duress—a transgression to the authorities.

Since it was the first, and by all likelihood the last, Harvey was playing it for all he was worth.

“I come here as a concerned citizen,” he insisted, staring up at the two plainclothes officers to whom he’d been passed by an overworked sergeant. His eyes were sunken, red-rimmed and shadowed, thanks to a dusk-to-dawn movie marathon on cable. He looked, in his baggy suit and wide-striped tie, like a desperate man who’d spent a sleepless night in his clothes.

Only the desperation was an illusion.

“You look worn out, Harvey.” Sapperstein, the senior detective, took the compassionate route. “Why don’t you let us drive you home?”

“Are you listening to me?” Harvey let his indignation rise. “Hell’s fire, boys, I come in here—and it ain’t something I do lightly—to give you the tip of a lifetime. All you can do is tell me to go on home. Like I was senile or something. I didn’t sleep a wink all night worrying if I had the nerve to do this, and all you want to do is pass me off.”

Impatient by nature, irritable by circumstance, the second detective, a basset-eyed Italian named Lorenzo, drummed his fingers on his overburdened desk. “Look, Tannenbaum, we’re kind of busy around here today. You know how it is when there’s a major jewel heist, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do.” He sighed, remembering the good old days. “We used to know how to keep the fun in our work. Today, these young guys, it’s just business. No flair, no creativity. No, you know, magic.”

“Sure.” Sapperstein summoned up a smile. “You were the best, Harvey.”

“Well, you sure as hell never tagged me, did you? Not that I’m admitting anything, mind, but there are some that might say I handled more ice than a trio of Eskimos.”

“Those were the days,” the second detective said between his teeth. “Now, we’d just love to sit around and go back down memory lane with you, but we’ve got work to do.”

“I come here to help you fellas out.” Harvey folded his arms and kept his wide butt planted. “I’m doing my goddamn civic duty. And before I do it, I want immunity.”

“Christ,” Lorenzo muttered. “Call the D.A. Harvey wants immunity. Let’s get the paperwork moving.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” Harvey muttered. “Could be I shouldn’t be dealing with underlings. Maybe I’ll just go to the commissioner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lorenzo invited.

“Put a lid on it,” Sapperstein advised. “You got something to say, Harvey, spill it. You look tired, we’re tired, and we are pressed for time.”

“Maybe you’re too busy to hear what I know about the art gallery heist then.” Harvey started to heave himself up. “I’ll just run along. Wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

Both detectives’ ears perked up. Sapperstein kept his persuasive smile in place. He knew it was probable that Harvey was just blowing hot air. After all, word was that he’d been out of business for a couple years, and he could have been feeling a tug of nostalgia.

Then again . . .

“Wait.” Sapperstein patted Harvey’s shoulder to ease him back down. “You know something about that, do you?”

“I know who did it.” Harvey’s smile was smug. He waited one dramatic beat, deciding he owed Roxanne for offering him the job. “Sam Wyatt.”

Lorenzo swore and broke a pencil in half. “How come I get the crazies?” he asked a higher power.

“Why is it always me?”

“Crazy? Why you snot-nosed punk. I was passing rocks under cops’ noses while you were still pissing your diapers. You can’t show more respect than that, I’m out of here.”

“Take it easy, Harvey. So you saw senatorial candidate Sam Wyatt steal the Clideburg collection?” This was asked with studied patience by Sapperstein.

“Shit! How could I see him lift them?” Righteous frustration had Harvey tossing up his hands. “What?

You figure I stand on street corners and look for thieves? You’re not going to hang any accessory bullshit on me. I was home sleeping like a baby when the job went down. And since I wasn’t sleeping alone,” he added with a wicked grin, “I got me an alibi.”

“Then why do you claim that Mr. Wyatt stole the Clideburg collection?”

“Because he told me!” Agitation and excellent projection had Harvey’s voice ringing out in the noisy station house. “For Christ’s sake, put two and two together, will you? Maybe somebody—just for hypothetical purposes we’ll say that somebody was me—used to turn over a few rocks for him now and then.”

Lorenzo snorted. “You’re trying to tell us that you fenced for Sam Wyatt?”

“I said no such thing.” Harvey blustered, turned red. “I said hypothetically. If you think you’re going to trick me into incriminating myself, you’ve got another think coming. I came in here of my own free will, and I’m walking out the same way. I ain’t going to jail.”

“Take it easy. Want some water? Lorenzo, get us a cup of water here.”

“Sure? Why the hell not?” In disgust, Lorenzo stomped off.

“Now, Harvey.” In his best cop-as-diplomat voice, Sapperstein continued. “We’re here to listen. That’s a fact. But if you’re going to make up stories like this about a respected member of the government, you’re just going to get yourself in trouble. Maybe you don’t like the guy’s politics, and you’re entitled.”

“Politics, balls.” Harvey let out his own snort of disgust. “I don’t give a flaming shit about his politics. But I’m telling you—hypothetically, got it?”

“Sure, I got it.”

“Hypothetically, I’ve known Sam for a long time. Since he was a teenager. Never cared for him personally, but business is business. Right? Anyway, he used to use me pretty regular. Before he got into politics it was mostly small time, but after, he started hitting bigger targets.”

“So you’ve known Sam Wyatt since he was a kid?” Even Sapperstein’s patience could be strained. He took the cup Lorenzo brought back and held it out to Harvey. “Look, you’re not doing anyone any good this way—”

“I don’t like being pressured,” Harvey interrupted. “And that’s just what the son of a bitch is trying.

Look, I’m retired—hypothetically. And if I want to turn down a job, I turn it down.”

“Okay, you turned him down.” Sapperstein rolled his eyes. “You’re not involved. What do you know?”

“I know plenty. I get a call, right? He tells me he’s going to hit the gallery, and I tell him good luck, what’s it to me? So he wants me to start working on liquidating the rocks. I give it a pass, and he gets nasty. Starts talking about making it rough for me. You know, I had a kid by my second wife, Florence.

He’s a dentist on Long Island. Well, Wyatt knows about him and says he’ll make things tough. While he’s threatening me, he’s complimenting me. Telling me how I’m the best and he can’t trust any second-rate fence with this kind of merchandise. Reminds me how we worked together before, and how this score’s going to set us both up for good.”

Harvey drank the rest of his water and sighed. “I gotta say, I’ve been losing some sleep over this. Wyatt had me worried, and I have to admit, he had me interested. A job like this doesn’t come along every day. The commission would set me up good. I’ve been thinking about moving to Jamaica. It’s warm there all the time. Half-naked women everywhere you look.”

“Stay focused, Harvey,” Sapperstein advised. “What did you do about the job?”

“I played along. First I thought I might do it, then I started thinking how much heat was going to blow when it went down. I’m not as young as I used to be, and I don’t need the aggravation. So I figured I’d do the right thing—turn him in, you know? There must be like a reward or finder’s fee for that haul. I can do a good deed and make a couple bucks out of it.”

“So he passed you the stuff?” Lorenzo spread his hands. “Let’s see it.”