No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) (13 page)

Chapter 49

It Happens To The Best Of Them

“Well, how was he finally exposed?” asked Hazel over drinks at Triumph’s. It was crowded and the five of us were waiting for our table to eat dinner, but everyone was more interested in my account of Beltracchi and his downfall.

“A buyer from Munich,” I explained, “used scientific analysis and determined three paintings were fake.”

“Then what happened?” asked Betty.

“According to one article, one painting supposedly painted in the 1920’s tested positive for pigment developed in 1957. Beltracchi mistakenly used the wrong titanium white that wasn’t available in the period that the canvas was allegedly to have been painted.

“Berlin’s art fraud branch seized Beltracchi’s paintings, him, his wife and their accomplices in 2010. But because of a lack of further evidence at the trial, the judge terminated the proceedings with a reduction in jail time. Jamie Martin, a forensic art analyst, said, if those paintings were inspected more closely, Beltracchi would’ve been caught sooner.

“At the trial, prosecutors claimed that Beltracchi created 36 artworks that were bought for about $46 million dollars. Beltracchi himself claimed there could be well over 300 more counterfeit paintings still out there in circulation.

“It was reported that the four accomplices: Beltracchi, Helene and two others made millions of dollars over four decades. And since the trial, the police in Germany have discovered 60 more paintings as fakes. Whatever else may be out there is still undetermined.”

Martha whistled. “Even though provenance is proven and vouched for, you can still get taken in, even today.”

“Exactly my point!” I said. “If a clever art forger was talented enough, they can still fool the best of them.”

“The sad thing was the provenance on those paintings was proven as worthless as the paintings,” said Betty.

“There must be a lot of angry art buyers,” said Martha.

Clay nodded. “Galleries are probably being sued left and right and insurance companies must be nervous.”

Martha laughed. “Welcome to the world of sleuthing.”

Hazel suggested. “Maybe
Mr. UPS
did get his hands on a forged painting and sold it to the wrong party.”

“And someone found out,” said Clay, “and struck back.”

“If Anne’s original forgery wasn’t destroyed, her ex got hold of it and sold it, she might be in trouble too,” I said.

“Wouldn’t that depend on who bought it?” Betty asked.

I smiled. “Like Tony, maybe?”

“That could very well be the case,” said Betty.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Hazel, “but all this talking is making me hungry.”

Martha laughed. “I’ve got some chocolates here…”

Both Hazel and Betty held up their hands.

“You’re a bad influence on us,” scolded Hazel.

Martha saluted. “About time I got a compliment from you.”

Chapter 50

Where There’s Smoke…

The next morning Clay and I headed to the gallery. My senior trio had an appointment in Lambertville. We were by ourselves, determined to check behind the paintings to see what was attached to the Worths’ alarm system. We had read Alicia’s info on how to deactivate the whole system including the paintings and did that first, right after finding the monitoring system.

We found the system hidden inside the locked armoire on the gallery floor. Finding the armoire locked, it triggered a search for the key. I found it up in Alicia’s loft, taped to the underside of her top desk drawer. Clay took a guess at the password and tried the obvious:
brown
.

Our rationalization was that the sophisticated and pricey alarm system was used for the most expensive paintings. But we weren’t sure which paintings held the most value: another clue that Clay was getting in over his head in buying into this art business in the first place.

In Clay’s defense, how could he know, when he wasn’t privy to the original purchase price? But I didn’t think we wanted to bring that to Alicia and Chris’s attention. This art gallery business was proving to be a learning curve on the treacherous side. And, as far as Clay was concerned, every profession had one: some more than others.

We both heard a loud rumbling noise and stilled.

“Clay, did you hear that?”

Just then Abby rushed through the packing room door into the gallery. She still had her jacket on. Clay and I both turned after having just stepped back from one painting to make sure it wasn’t crooked. Our timing was perfect. We had just reactivated the individual alarms on the art and didn’t want to let on what we were doing.

Clay moved off after making eye contact, letting me know he was putting the key back in Alicia’s desk up in the loft. He didn’t want to forget to do it later.

Abby’s face was flushed. “You will never guess…”

I tried to calm her. “Take a breath first.”

A fire engine raced by blaring its siren. I glanced out the window then turned back to Abby. “Now, what is it?”

She pointed to the street. “That’s what!”

“What happened?”

Clay scrambled back down the loft stairs after hearing Abby’s alarmed voice. “What’s wrong?”

Abby was beside herself. “Did you hear that explosion?”

“An explosion? Where?”

Then I remembered my crew! Lambertville!

She could barely get it out. “The Price Gallery!”

Clay and I eyed each other, weren’t they going there?

I couldn’t voice my concerns about Lenny and Jeffrey Price in front of Abby. She was shaking like a leaf.

I grabbed Abby. “Was anyone inside?”

“I don’t know! The boutique next door told me as I pulled into our lot. They yelled over to me after getting a phone call from their other store over in Lambertville.”

Clay pulled me closer. “I can go check. You stay here.”

After Hazel and Betty came close to being blown up in Switzerland, I just couldn’t imagine…

“No, I’m coming too. Let’s go!”

I jumped when my cell phone rang, just as we were heading out the door. “Yes?”

Chapter 51

Who Was Responsible?

Martha spoke excitedly. “Did you hear about it?”

I let out a sigh of relief at hearing her voice. “I just heard,” I said, without adding more in front of Abby. The possible connections attached to the Worth Gallery and the Price’s was up in the air. I didn’t know if I could trust Abby at this point, especially after she delivered that art piece.

Abby started to speak, but I held up my hand.

Martha was breathless.
Had she been running?

Then I heard commotion in the background: people talking and yelling.

“Where are you?” I asked her.

“The three of us are outside the taped off area in front of the Price Gallery. There was an explosion inside. Someone mentioned a possible gas leak.”

The line went silent. “Martha? Are you still there?”

“…The three of us had an appointment to meet Jeffrey Price and were running late.”

“Oh, Martha. It must be such a shock at how close…”

“All because Hazel had to stop at that damn craft store.”

I gave a nervous laugh: relieved her humor was intact.

Martha whispered, “I could kiss Hazel’s feet for that, but you didn’t hear that from my lips. I’ll deny it!”

“Feel up to staying to keep us posted?” I asked.

“Will do!” she said, but before disconnecting, shouted to someone, “Hey, as a public citizen I can stand right here!”

Abby and Clay listened intently as I explained the close call Martha, Hazel and Betty had: about to enter the Price Gallery when it exploded. I didn’t give the real reason they were there: to meet with Jeffrey Price to question him. The less Abby knew of our intentions at this point, the better.

“Should I give Anne a call on her cell?” Abby asked.

Clay and I made eye contact.
Was Anne responsible?

“Good idea. I have some questions for her,” said Clay.

Abby took a few steps toward the back room for her cell, but then turned back to us. “You don’t think Anne…”

I didn’t want to raise any alarms and shook my head. Why jump the gun when we weren’t even sure if Anne was involved or not? Although she was in the thick of it, she could very well be an innocent bystander caught up with her ex and a web of art fraud. But then again, who knew?

After the packing room door closed behind Abby, Clay pulled me to the loft. He motioned to keep our voices low.

“So what’s your take on this?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “I have this strange feeling that what we think we see isn’t necessarily what we actually see.”

“I agree. We’re missing something obvious.”

“And it’s right in front of our noses.”

My old mantra, worth paying attention to, came to mind.

Who had the most to lose and who had the most to gain?

Chapter 52

Cause I said so

Now that the ladies were safe, Clay took off alone for Lambertville to see the accident scene and touch base with the Martha, Hazel and Betty. To tell you the truth, I think he was still concerned for their safety. If it was a gas leak, that was one thing. Otherwise, they’d be
marked
just for snooping around.

Tony sent that point home when he contacted the ladies at the restaurant that one afternoon. Even though there was no hard proof of Tony’s affiliation with any ‘organization,’ I couldn’t write him off from being a major player in this whole thing. There was something about the guy…

Abby returned so I figured I’d take the Jeep and go check out that old shed outside the Worths’ house: the one the four of us had been trapped in. I texted Clay, saying I was stepping out to run an errand. If he knew, he’d insist on coming along. He was busy enough. I could handle this.

Clay had previously padlocked the shed, even though another key might be out there. He was also on the lookout for Tony, who had disappeared into thin air. So I had to grab the key from the house. I walked over to the shed and gingerly stepped inside: that is after propping the two doors open with the two heavy logs.

With the doors braced wide open and the sun shining in, I could see clearly and didn’t need my flashlight like before. I was disappointed though. No paintings lurked in the corners, only spiders. Still, I kept searching.

I was lifting tarps and moving fencing and anything that could possibly block or conceal a crate when another dark shadow fell in beside mine. My stomach sank. Someone was standing behind me. I distinctly smelled aftershave and it wasn’t Clay’s. This one was overpowering and seemed familiar…

Uh-oh!
As I began turning around, I heard that voice.

“That’s it. Turn around nice and easy-like, Blondie.”

I did as I was told, already knowing what was waiting for me when I did: Tony and his gun. I smiled. He didn’t.

“I hadn’t heard from you, Sam, so I followed you here.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to track down.”

“Did you really think you could outsmart me?”

What the hell, I told him what he wanted to hear
. “No.”

He laughed. “Smart girl. Said what I wanted to hear.”

Like I said before, maybe he wasn’t so dumb after all.

He motioned with his gun. “Let’s take a walk.”

I hesitated. “…Does this involve taking a ride too?”

If it did, I was going to duke it out right here in the shed.

Tony winked. “No, we’re going inside the house.”

My mind was racing. “What for?”

“Even though you conveniently unlocked and disarmed it for me, I have some business to attend to there and don’t need you sneaking up on me. Now move, ’cause I said so!”

Never get trapped. I had to get away no matter what.

Chapter 53

Don’t Say Something You’re Going To Regret

After entering the porte cochere door to the house, Tony locked the deadbolt. Good. He didn’t know where the key was and I wasn’t about to offer to show him. I could easily open a deadbolt, even at a dead run. I’ve had experience in running out of houses:
some were better than others.

I turned to him, stalling. “Are we doing lunch or what?”

“Don’t do or say something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m already regretting coming here. Now what?”

He waved his gun. “Keep going toward the hallway.”

I glanced ahead, assessing the doors that might enable my escape: probably still key-locked, like they were when we left the house that morning. And the key to open them was attached to the Jeep keys still dangling in the ignition.

What was he planning to do?

A few steps into the hallway he said, “Stop!”

Like a smart girl with a gun to her back, I did. “And?”

“Wait a sec,” he said.

I stole a glance back. He was looking at a painting then turned to the opposite wall and looked at another one.

What the…?

“Move,” he then said, nudging me forward with his gun.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured cautiously.

Tony jerked his attention from a painting, annoyed.

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

“Well, yeah, but doing what? Maybe I could help.”

He looked at me like this was a trick question. “No!”

I shrugged. “Just sayin’…”

“Besides, you wouldn’t know anyway,” he said.

“How would you know unless you asked me, right?”

He considered my answer. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

I gave him a big smile. “Okay, shoot!” Then I realized what I had said and backed up a step. “Uh, I didn’t really mean that. It was just a figure of speech. Don’t take it….”

Tony frowned. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Well, I…”

He cut me off again. “It’s getting real annoying.”

“But…”

He pointed his gun at me. I shut up instantly.

“Good! At least you got
that
message.”

I waited a beat then tried again. “You were saying?”

“You’ve got me so screwed up, I can’t remember what the hell we were talking about!”

He couldn’t talk without waving his hands: that gun too.

“I volunteered to help you, remember?” I said warily.

He glanced at his watch. “I don’t have much time.”

I had to stall him until I could escape.
“Ask away.”

By this time, we had stopped at a third painting. He eyed me then came to a decision. “I’m looking for an artist.”

“Which one?” I asked, cheerfully relieved.

“The one I was
really
promised and didn’t get.”

“But how are you so sure it’s here?”

“Because it’s not there,” he said, getting annoyed again.

I swear, I wondered if he might be related to Lenny.

I took a deep breath and calmly asked, “Where?”

He looked just as aggravated. “The gallery.”

“Aha! If it’s not at the gallery, it must be here!”