The Artful Goddaughter (6 page)

Oh yeah.
Last Chance.
I got it.

I swallowed. Then laughed. I hoped it didn't sound too nervous. “It's a dating club for the retirement home. Speed dating for geezers.”

“Speed dating for—”

“My great-aunt Rita runs it. None of the old dears have their licenses anymore. I offered to drive them to the Bing Bong Room tonight in the Cannot Hotel.”

That was me, the Good Samaritan. It was a nice story. Hey, it was almost true.

“The Bing Bong Room. You're making this up.” The words were scolding. But I could tell Pete was smiling.

“Am not! They play big-band music there once a week. It's kinda fun. We should go sometime.” But not tonight.

Pete laughed. “Have to pass for now. Got a game. But you have a good time, babe.”

Oh, I was going to have a brilliant time. Me and my seven heavy dates.

NINE

O
ne thing about growing up in this family: you learn how to drive all sorts of vehicles. A lot of my godfather's businesses require moving merchandise around. Which is to say, we have a lot of trucks. I have access to most.

For this adventure, I picked a ten-seater van. It came with the optional upgrade to bulletproof glass, which I wasn't expecting to need on this occasion.

When I pulled into the retirement-home lane, they were already waiting. From the van window I caught sight of a sea of gray hair and walkers. A kindly male attendant stood by to help with the loading.

I shifted the van into Park and came out to greet them.

“Big outing for them,” said the support worker. “Hope they don't cause you trouble.”

Trouble? This bunch of elderly dears? I had to smile.

The attendant stood ready to help them board. I got back in the van to help the unsteady from my end. One by one, the Last Chance Club climbed aboard and found their way to seats.

“We're short a few birds,” Jimmy announced as he shuffled by. “Rita can't make it. She twisted an ankle belly dancing.”

“I warned her,” said Mrs. Bari, who was right behind him. “
Rita,
I says,
you gotta lay
off the pasta
.”

Great-Aunt Rita
was
sort of ample. The picture of her in a belly-dance costume was not doing a lot for me.

Mrs. Bari herself was thin and spry, like Jimmy. The usual gray curly hair came with an assortment of face wrinkles.

She sat herself down on a seat behind me. Jimmy plunked down beside her. This put him within conversation range. So I took the opportunity to ask Jimmy something I'd been wondering about all day.

“Okay, Jimmy. Why speed dating?”

“Sweetheart, it has to be fast. Not like we got a lot of time left or anything.”

I sighed and took my seat. The support worker put the last of the walkers on board. I shifted the van into Drive.

On the way downtown, I stopped to pick up Nico. He had dressed up for the occasion. Black pants, white dinner jacket and spiffy bow tie.

“Channeling Sinatra tonight?” I said to him.

“Don't be silly, Gina. I'm Bogie.” He fiddled with the tie and sat down in the tour-guide spot.

“Of course!” I grinned. “The Maltese Falcon. Or, in your case, Parrot.”

He beamed a smile.

“Hi, Jimmy,” he said. “Hi, ladies and gents. All ready for the big event?”

“I'm not a lady,” cried one elderly voice. “And I can prove it.”

“No!” I yelled. “Wally, do NOT remove your pants on this bus.”

Luckily, I was driving. I had to keep my eyes on the road.

“Here. See? I'm a guy.”

“Oops. Oh dear,” said Nico. “I can see that.”

“Can I see that?” said Mrs. Bari.

“PUT THAT AWAY,” I yelled. “Nico, do something.” I stopped at the red light. It turned green. I started up again.

Already I was getting bad vibes.

“Jimmy, are you sure we can we depend on them?” I asked.

“Were we supposed to wear Depends?” said one.

“I never wear Depends to speed dating. Takes too long to get out of.”

“You don't go commando!”

Gasps all around.

“Gertrude, you always were loose,” said one disapproving voice.

“The loosey bird gets the worm,” said Gertrude, giggling.

Gack!

“Don't!” I said to Nico. “Don't even go there.”

“How about we sing a song?” Nico said in a rush. “What would you all like to sing?”

“How about ‘Barnacle Bill the Sailor'?” said Mrs. Bari.

“
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine
bottles of beer
,” started Nico frantically.

The chorus took over after that.

With relief, I finally pulled into the lane at the side of the art gallery.

“So we're all clear on the plan, everyone?”

Nico preened. “Yup. Gina will park the van. I'll lead the troops around and manufacture a good distraction. Jimmy can do his thing. We meet back here in twenty minutes. Piece of cake.”

“Do we get cake?” Wally said.

We got them out of the van. One by one, with walkers and canes, they shuffled into the glass atrium of the art gallery.

As I watched them go, I felt strange. I wasn't used to waiting on the sidelines. But Nico figured I should stay out of sight. This was because of another incident that involved the police and the art gallery earlier this year. My second cousin Tony (meaning my distant cousin, not one of the other Tonys) had been shot by some guys from New York. Unfortunately, I had also been on the spot.

So Nico was supervising the actual heist, and I was driving the getaway car. At least, that's what we told Jimmy and the old dears. Best that they think this was a real job. It would bring back the good ol' days. Might as well give everyone a thrill since they were missing their speed-dating night.

When all bodies were clear, I steered the van into a disabled-parking spot in the parkade. Then I picked up my tablet and spent a little time reading.

Next thing I knew, Nico texted my cell phone. “All done. We're here.”

I paid for parking and drove out to meet them in the lane.

We loaded the stealth seven on board. Walkers got folded and canes put to rest. I pulled away from the curb.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“You don't want to know,” said Nico. He plopped down on the seat opposite me and groaned. “Really, you don't want to know.”

“But I'm gonna tell her anyway,” said Mrs. Bari. She was bouncing up and down on her seat.

“Put your seat belt on,” I commanded. “Nico, can you get them all to sit down and buckle up?”

“My seat belt won't fit over my big—”

“Enough of that, Wally!” Nico sounded harsh—especially for Nico.

“Wow, Nico. What gives?” He was never short like this.

“Wally flashed them.” Mrs. Bari giggled.

Nico groaned again. “That wasn't the sort of distraction I was planning on.”

“Flashed who?”

“One elderly docent and the entire grade-eight art class from St. Bonaventure.”

Oops.

“Everyone screamed,” another old dear added excitedly. “Some even laughed.”

“I did,” said Mrs. Bari.

“They aren't even going to press charges,” said Jimmy.

“I had to promise that Uncle Vince would make a big donation to the school sports program,” said Nico. His tone was only slightly hysterical.

“But it worked,” I said philosophically. “All's well that ends well.” Honestly, I was relieved. The art gallery had the real painting. I had the forgery. Nobody had died. Nobody was even in jail. That made the operation a success, in my books.

I was a happy camper. I wouldn't be humiliated in front of the family after all. I turned left out of the parking lot.

Nico opened the sack to look at the painting.

Gasp. Cough. Mutter.

“What is it? Spit it out, Nico.” Jeesh. I didn't need all these dramatics.

“Uh, Gina? We have a problem.”

“What?” I was already speeding down King.

“Um…really, I don't know how to tell you this.”

“Tell me.”

Nico sighed. “It's the wrong painting.”

“WHAT?” I veered to the curb and slammed on the brakes. “Show me.”

I slammed the transmission into Park.

Nico held up the painting.

“CRAP!” I screeched. “Crappity crap.”

It was a really nice painting. She was quite beautiful, in fact. Rather Rubenesque, but in a good way. I could see why a man like Jimmy might like this painting.

But it wasn't the right one.

“Jimmy, I am speechless. Honestly, I don't know what to say.” Nico's voice was starting to squeak.

“Whaddaya mean?” Jimmy said. “You tole me to steal dat.” He pointed a bony finger at the lady's…unmentionables.

I held my breath for five seconds. Then I tried not to yell.

“Jimmy, what did I tell you to steal?” Nico said.

“The lady wit the big boobies.”

I pounded my hand on the steering wheel. “No, Jimmy! The lady with the
three
boobies.”

Silence.

“Oh fiddle, Gina. I think we had a communication failure.” Nico shook his head.

“Jimmy, are you wearing your hearing aid?” I asked.

“Lost it,” he mumbled. “Fell in the can.”

Nico was moaning like he was in serious pain.

“Don't know what you're all upset about,” Jimmy said. “I like this painting way better. Who needs three boobies? That's just weird.”

Nico started to hyperventilate. “Oh my God, Gina. Do you suppose the art gallery will notice?”

“That their ‘lady with the big boobies' is missing?” Of course they will. Could this get any worse?

“I mean, that they have TWO ladies with three boobies. Two of the same painting by Kugel. Don't forget what Jimmy was supposed to do.”

CRAP. It got worse. “Jimmy, did you replace this painting with the one I gave you?”

He shuffled his feet, then nodded.

The fake Kugel was still hanging in the art gallery. And now the original Kugel was hanging in the same gallery, somewhere else. Plus, I had an original, priceless Old Masters painting on my hands. Recently stolen.

The gods hated me.

“Oh bloody hell. What are we going to DO?”

Nico pointed out that we couldn't do much of anything because the art gallery was now closed. “We can't do anything tonight, Gina. Chances are, no one will notice right away.”

I tried to take deep breaths.

“And besides,” said Nico, “we have to get all these seniors home. Most of them are already asleep.”

I started the van to take the old dears home. But my mind was on other things.

How many days would it be before the cops showed up? I had to act fast.

TEN

I
was alone in the store the next morning.

It was Sunday, so we didn't open until noon. This gave me time to think.

And think I did. Plans rolled around in my head like a series of movie trailers. I considered some. Dismissed others immediately. It took a few hours to get the right one. Finally, the script was coming together. Individual players fell into roles. The whole moving picture became clear.

We would have to get this done fast, before the funeral the next day. And before the art gallery discovered the switch.

It was time to call in the troops.

Nico was my first call.

“I have a cunning plan,” I said.

He listened without saying a word.

“Inspired,” he said when I was done. “Really first-rate, Gina. Like an old-time movie.”

“You'll pick up Jimmy?”

“Count on it.”

“Don't forget the bird,” I reminded him.

We hung up.

Next, I called Lainy.

“I need your help,” I said. Then I explained.

“You got it, sugar,” she said. “See you there at three.”

Bingo! I had Lainy. The plan was a go.

Then I called Pete. This was trickier.

“I need your help,” I said cautiously. Then I told him what I needed him to do.

“Are you going to explain why?” he asked.

“Em…probably you don't want to know.”

Silence.

“This doesn't have anything to do with counterfeiting, right?”

“Nope. Not a thing,” I said with relief. Forgery isn't the same as counterfeiting, right?

“No funny money from China?”

“China doesn't even come into it. I'm simply doing a favor for Great-Uncle Seb.”

Pause.

“Seb is dead,” said Pete. “Why's he asking for favors? Not to mention, how?”

This was getting squirrely. “Look, I'm sort of in a hurry. Can I tell you all about it after? Not over this phone. I'm not on a burner, see?”

Pete got it. And he agreed to do the deed. What a good man. I really did love this guy.

Next, I called Jimmy.

“Did Nico talk to you?” I said.

“Yeah. This time, we'll get it right. I got an accomplice casing the joint to find out the exact location of the target.”

“Call me back with that info,” I said. “Here's the plan.”

He listened intently. Then he chortled and hung up.

Next, I called Tiff.

“Here's what I need you to do,” I said.

Then I told her.

“Cool,” she said. “
Mission Impossible
. I'll get Stoner to help.”

I could hear her texting as I hung up.

ELEVEN

I
t was nearly three when I arrived at the art gallery. A camera crew was just unpacking. While they gathered their equipment, I looked around for my accomplices in the atrium. It was tricky because the place was crowded.

Nico, check. Tiff, check. Jimmy caught my eye and winked. I could see Pete through the second-floor glass bannister, standing with his big arms crossed.