Lost and Found (38 page)

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“No, but I think it’s a safe guess.” Sylvia looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re in love with Mack Easton, aren’t you?”

Cady tightened her grip on the window sill. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“I expected a little more certainty from you,” Sylvia said dryly.

“Hard to be certain when there are so many uncertainties involved.”

“I don’t understand. What, exactly, is uncertain?”

“He’s a widower, Syl. He loved his first wife very much and he’s already gone through the kid-raising
process. I think he sees that part of his life as finished. Now that his daughter is in college, I believe that he’s looking forward to the next stage.”

“And the next stage does not include starting over with a new wife and family?”

“He was honest about it. He told me that he finds it very convenient and comfortable to keep his relationships limited to undemanding affairs. He’s in the process of selling his house. Says it’s too large for him now that his daughter has left home and he’s on his own again. Says he plans to travel more. Expand his consulting business.”

“Well.” Sylvia tapped one finger on the windowsill. “Either he’s trying to be very up-front and straightforward with you so that you don’t get the wrong idea, or—”

“Or what?”

“Or you completely misunderstood him.”

Cady scowled. “I don’t think I misunderstood him.”

“One thing is for certain, you can’t go on in limbo like this. What are you going to do?”

A twinge of panic lanced across her nerves. Automatically Cady resorted to deep breathing. “There’s not much I can do about it except wait and see how things work out.”

Sylvia chuckled. “Now, that approach does not sound like the Cady I know.”

“You expect me to be more proactive or whatever it is you CEO types call it?”

“Definitely. Proactive is your usual style when it comes to handling just about everything else in life, isn’t it?”

Anger flared high, replacing the panic. “Yes, and you can see where it’s gotten me. I have a news flash for you, Syl. Proactive women scare men.”

“And you don’t want to scare off Mack, is that it?”

“I keep telling myself that if I can scare him off, he’s not the right one for me, but—” She let the sentence dangle, helpless to complete it.

“You,” Sylvia said, “are in love.”

“I was afraid of that.”

G
ardner walked into the study, dropped a folder on the desk and took a chair. “So, what’s with you and Cady?”

Mack dragged his attention away from the notes he had been making and tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. “Want to run that by me again?”

“You and Cady. What’s going on? Are you serious about her, or are you just fooling around on the side while you work on this investigation for her?”

Mack put down his pen with great care. “Are you by any chance asking me if my intentions are honorable?”

“Yes, I think that’s what it amounts to.” Gardner helped himself to coffee from the pot Mack had made earlier. “Doesn’t seem to be anyone else around to do the job. Her parents are in England and her brother is back East. Sylvia says that leaves me.”

“Sylvia gave you your marching orders?”

“More or less.” Gardner tried the coffee and grimaced. “How long has this stuff been sitting here?”

“Couple of hours.” Mack leaned back and gripped the arms of his chair. “I didn’t ask you to drop by so that we could discuss my relationship with Cady.”

“I know. That’s what I told Sylvia. Also told her that Cady can take care of herself.”

“But Sylvia still felt you should brace me?”

“Afraid so.” Gardner started to rise. “Mind if I make a fresh pot of coffee?”

“Later. Let’s settle this other matter first.”

“Thought you’d say that.” Reluctantly, Gardner sat down again. “Just give me a yes or no on the Cady issue. I’ll report back to Syl and we’ll be finished with the problem.”

Mack slowly removed his glasses and set them down
on the desk. “You mean you will be finished with the problem. I’ll still be stuck with it.”

Gardner’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Sorry about that. But you’re the one who got involved with Cady.”

“Yes.”

“Sylvia and everyone else in the family is afraid that if she doesn’t get married and have a normal family life, she might turn out like Vesta.”

“Weird?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Each to his or her own.” Mack adjusted his glasses and looked down at the notepad. “Now, I’ve made a list—”

“Hang on, I didn’t get an answer to Syl’s question, and between you and me, I don’t dare go back without it.”

Mack raised one brow. “Yes.”

Gardner frowned in confusion. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my intentions are honorable. Now, do you mind if we get to work?”

Gardner blinked a few more times and cleared his throat again. “Uh, no. Don’t mind at all. What did you need from me?”

“You told me that even though Chatelaine’s accountants checked out the merger proposal, you also took a look at it.”

“Right. Vesta and Sylvia wanted someone in the family to go over it just as an added precaution.” Gardner sighed. “For all the good it did.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over the fact that you didn’t spot the income from the frauds. You couldn’t have known about them. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What did you want to discuss?”

“Tell me exactly how the shares in the new company would have been distributed if the merger had gone through,” Mack said.

“It was kind of complicated,” Gardner warned.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Mack said. He held the pen poised over the notepad. “Define complicated.”

T
wenty minutes later Mack put down the pen and studied the notes he had made while Gardner explained the stock distribution plan.

“Well, damn,” he said. “I’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

Gardner leaned forward, an uneasy expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been going on the assumption that the people with the most invested in the merger were all—”

The phone warbled loudly, interrupting him. He scooped it up swiftly. “Easton here.”

“This is Jonathan Arden. I got your message.”

Mack sat forward quickly. “Where are you?”

“That’s not important. I called to ask if you were serious.”

“About finding the real killer? I’m very serious. It’s in your best interest to get serious about it, too. Looks to me like whoever murdered Stanford Felgrove is trying to tie up loose ends.”

On the opposite side of the desk, Gardner watched intently.

“You think I’m a loose end?” Arden asked.

“You’ve been set up to take the fall for Felgrove’s murder. Pretty neat way to tie up a dangling thread, if you ask me.”

“How do I know this isn’t some kind of trap?” Arden asked.

“I won’t ask you to come out into the open. But you’ve got to give me some information I can use. We’re running out of time.”

Silence hummed briefly on the line.

“What do you need from me?” Arden asked cautiously.

“Tell me everything you can about the fraud scam.”

“How much do you know?” Arden replied.

“Some of it. Not all of it. I’m going on the assumption that there was a third person involved. Yes or no?”

“Yes. Took me a while to figure it out myself.” Arden paused a few seconds. “I’m a little new to the art and antiques business. Most of my career has been spent in the financial markets.”

“Pyramid schemes.”

“I prefer to think of them as investment plans,” Arden murmured. “At any rate, the bottom line was that I didn’t know the players in the art and antiques business. In the beginning, I just followed Felgrove’s instructions. He pointed out the clients and the fraudulent pieces of furniture and I put them together.”

“Just a good salesman doing his job?”

“You got it. But after a while, I realized that Felgrove didn’t have what it took to know a good forgery from a bad one. I finally tumbled to the fact that there was someone else organizing things.”

“Someone who knew the territory?”

“Right. It was the third person who dealt with the Europeans and verified the quality of the products. We had to have very good quality control to make it work, you see. The pieces had to get past at least a cursory inspect by the in-house experts at Austrey-Post. It was my job to make sure they didn’t stand around too long on the showroom floor.”

Mack cradled the phone against his ear and went to work on the computer keyboard. “In other words, Felgrove used a consultant. An expert in old furniture who could travel on buying trips to Europe without raising suspicions.”

“Yes.”

“And when it all fell apart, the consultant decided to clean up the loose ends. Felgrove and you.”

Arden exhaled heavily. “I have to tell you, Easton, business was a little cleaner in the financial world. Nobody ever got killed in any of my investment plans.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, I think there’s more going on here than just a simple forgery scam. I think you got caught in something bigger that went south at the same time that your psychic act ended.”

“Actually, that’s not much comfort at all,” Arden said. “You know, a lot of this is your fault, Easton. Everything started coming apart after you showed up. Who the hell are you?”

“Friend of the family.”

“Yeah, right. I tried to get some information on you but I came up with nothing useful. Everything that came back said you were just an innocent business consultant. I figure that was not an accident.”

“Were you the one who arranged the mugging attempt outside the Gallery Chatelaine?”

“That was pure desperation on my part. People who like to keep secrets often keep them close. I thought maybe there would be something in your wallet that would give me a handle on you. Unfortunately, the job of mugging you was farmed out to a bottom feeder.”

“You get what you pay for. Talk to me, Arden. What can you tell me about the third person involved here?”

“Not much. Felgrove handled that end of things. My job was limited to dealing with the clients. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

“Give me some dates. Timing is crucial.”

Arden talked for a while.

When he was finished, Mack studied the data that was coalescing on his screen. “I think I see a pattern here. Where can I reach you?”

“I’m going to take an extended vacation. The e-mail address will work.” Arden hung up the phone without any warning.

Gardner was on his feet, coming around the edge of the desk. “That was Arden?”

“Yes.” Mack did not take his attention away from the screen. “He wasn’t a lot of help, but he did confirm my hunch that there was a third person involved. Given what you told me about the stock distribution plan and the credit card statement I’m looking at here, I think we’ve got a qualified candidate for the missing link. Someone who stood to benefit from both the scam and the merger. Someone who knew the territory. Someone who knows how to dive and who rented scuba gear the day of Vesta’s death.”

“Who the hell meets all that criteria?” Gardner stared, dumbfounded, at the name on the screen. “Damn. You’re right. Now what? Call the cops?”

“Not yet.” Mack was out of his chair. “We haven’t got any proof. Just a set of circumstances that match up.” He started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if I can find something in the way of hard evidence.”

“I was afraid of that,” Gardner said. “I’d better come with you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” Gardner sighed. “Sylvia and Cady will never forgive me if I let you do this alone.”

C
ady stood in the vault and looked at the next row of boxes. Only a few more to go. She squeezed the little gold key tightly against her palm. Maybe she was wrong about this. Maybe the key did not open any of the glittering works of art.

There was no way to be certain unless she finished the
task she had set for herself. She reached for an exquisite little casket that looked as if it had been designed to hold jewelry. The small chest was decorated with tracery, elegantly inlaid and covered with gilt work. Viennese, she thought. Seventeenth century. Property of a lady.

The doorbell chimed from the front hall. She put the casket on a small table and hurried out of the vault.

The bell reverberated again just as she reached the door. Habit made her pause long enough to peer through the peephole. She smiled when she saw who stood on the front step.

She opened the door. “Come in, Gabriella.”

Gabriella was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt decorated with a picture of a bespeckled banana slug reading Plato. The motto “Fiat Slug” formed the backdrop of the illustration.

“I came to see Dad.”

“Yes, I figured that much out right away. I’m afraid that he’s not here now. He was gone when I got back a little while ago. I don’t know where he went but I’m sure he’ll return soon.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Did you do the bus to the city and ferry across the bay routine again?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve had a long trip.” She closed the door. “This is a weekday. Are you missing some classes?”

“I’ll borrow someone’s notes.”

“Right. Want some tea or a soda?”

“No thanks.”

“Okay, then. Maybe you’d like to help me out in the vault while we wait for your father.”

Gabriella frowned. “You’ve got a vault in this place?”

“My aunt had it built to house her collection of antique boxes and jewelry chests.” Cady started back down the hall. “A lot of them are extremely valuable.”

Reluctantly, Gabriella trailed after her. “What are you doing with them?”

“I think Aunt Vesta may have hidden something important inside one of the boxes. I’ve got a little key that she sent to me shortly before her death. I’m pretty sure that when I match it up with the right lock on the right box, I’ll find whatever it was that she concealed inside.”

“No offense, but your aunt sounds like she was a little weird.”

“You aren’t the first person to make that observation.” Cady walked back into the vault.