No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) (11 page)

Chapter 41

Startled & Bewildered

Clay was waiting for another text from Alicia in reply to him asking where their monitor was located. I didn’t think Clay felt comfortable snooping around the Worths’ gallery, specifically in their home, searching inside cabinets and closets. That text:
brown,
troubled him too.

Being a friend, maybe Clay was leery of what he’d find.

Not being their friend, I had no qualms whatsoever. I wouldn’t touch, but I didn’t promise not to look. First thing I did was to walk through that long art hallway, craning my neck to see behind the paintings: the ones I thought weren’t reproductions. Who would I ask to verify, Anne?
…Uh-uh.

Even though it was still daylight, I whipped out my iPhone and hit the flashlight. Some frames were bulky, old and a little warped. So I was having a difficult time spotting any attachment on the back of the frame. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for, but kept at it. Several times I swore I thought I saw something, but unless I lifted the painting off the wall I couldn’t be positive.

Frustrated at not seeing anything to write home about, I headed for the Jeep and Worth Gallery. Maybe I’d have better luck down in New Hope. Five minutes later, I swung into the gallery’s parking lot.

Empty… Where was everybody?

At least one car should be there during hours. I picked up my pace, turned the backdoor knob, but then paused.

Locked… Had something happened?

I fished in my purse for the key, entered, then thought to glance at the keypad. Good thing I did. It was armed.

Who set it? What was going on?

After disarming it, I ventured a few steps further. That’s when I heard it: someone inside.

An employee wouldn’t have set the alarm during regular working hours. It was only after hours they were told to lock the door or set the alarm. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

Something was wrong.

I waited a moment. Hearing nothing more, I took a few more cautious steps. The packing room looked in order: nothing out of place. I kept going, approaching the door to the open gallery. Hesitating, I listened intently.

My wrist was grabbed from behind. I let out a yelp of surprise, wrenched free and turned to see who it was.

Abby, looking frightened.

“Abby! What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she choked out.

I looked around then back at her. “Why’s the alarm on?”

“Someone called for…” she sobbed and couldn’t finish.

I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Called for who?”

“Anne, but she’s not here. Then they threatened me.”

“Who did?”

It was obvious she was upset, and now so was I.

She was sobbing too hard to respond.

“Where’s Anne?” I demanded. “Where’s your car?”

Who was making these threats?

Chapter 42

Mystified By The Some Truths

I felt a knot forming in my stomach. It seemed to show up when things weren’t going well and this felt like one of those times: when I questioned what I was doing, sleuthing around where I shouldn’t. My agent, Sandra, who always stressed safety, would agree.

But then it’d be a lot duller for my readers, wouldn’t it?

“Let’s go into the kitchen for some coffee,” I suggested.

Abby then mumbled she’d moved her car.
Why?

I guided her to a chair while I poured us each a mug. She was hunched over, teary-eyed and jittery and couldn’t keep her hands in one place, brushing at non-existent lint from her slacks.

I sat down opposite her. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

Abby took a sip and set the mug down. “I was finishing up going through the packing slips, cross-matching them to the boxes going out to make sure there were no mistakes this time. One didn’t match up with its invoice number.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not lately, especially after Anne flipped out that day.”

“Did you get a chance to check it against the files?”

“That’s what I was doing when Anne’s phone rang.”

“When was this?”

“About thirty minutes ago. I answered, using the gallery name. A man asked if Anne was there. I told him she’d stepped out in a hurry and that’s when he went ballistic.”

“What did he say?”

“That if Anne knew what was good for her, she’d better get her act together. Big bucks were involved.”

“Think he was referring to a painting he bought?”

Abby shook her head. “I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then he began yelling obscenities and threatened me.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“For everyone at the gallery to watch their backs.”

“Us too?”

Abby nodded.

“Why would he attach
us
to Anne and her actions?”

“Maybe she cheated a customer?”

“Do you think she did?” I asked.

“I heard she’s interested in buying this gallery. Maybe if its reputation isn’t so sterling and is somewhat tainted…”

I nodded. “A bad rep means a low-ball offer…”

“If she cheated someone on purpose…”

Just then the phone rang and we both jumped.

Abby reached for it. “…Hello?” she said guardedly.

I walked over to Abby, who stood there, pale-faced.

“Who is it? What?” I silently mouthed to her.

She hung up. “Another gallery. Our UPS guy is dead!”

I was dumbstruck.

Could it be that guy from Triumph’s?

“I can’t believe this. Now what do we do?” Abby asked.

I tried to keep my hands from shaking. This was now escalating beyond anything I was prepared for with bad implications branching out toward several people. I was now truly fearful for those I loved and felt I had to protect them if possible. I couldn’t let my fear get the better of me. I had to do something to turn this around.

“Abby, I need you to make up a list for me: everyone who regularly interacts with this gallery.”

Chapter 43

Laptop Time Out

I called everyone to explain what happened with Abby receiving the threatening call and the UPS driver’s death. This string of events was setting off internal alarms. Was the dead guy the same good-looking guy Clay and I met at Triumph’s that first evening? Was that the truth about a painting he purchased or was he fishing for info about what we knew? Had he delivered switched paintings?

Was it an accident or was he murdered?

This art set-up was more complex than I imagined. The Worth Gallery was a perfect place to move paintings in and out of, especially if high-priced forged paintings and cash were exchanged. Who’d pay attention to deliveries of large crates and boxes going into and out of an art gallery?

So who was getting their hands dirty?

Was it Alicia
and
Chris, Anne, the UPS guy, Tony? My thoughts went straight to the most obvious one on
my
list: the one whose motives were making her actions suspect.

Why was Anne interested in a buyout? It made sense if she were partnering with Tony. Had he offered her a cash payoff one she’d risk her reputation on or was something else going on? Organized crime wasn’t above extortion to get what they wanted. A legitimate individual would turn on a dime with a large enough incentive and/or if a specific threat was made:
one they couldn’t possibly refuse.

I had to find Anne. She might be more talkative once she found out about this UPS driver’s death. But then on the other hand, maybe she’d remain silent for that very same reason. There were too many unknowns going on.

I looked up from my desk in the gallery loft where I had been typing info and opinions into my laptop when Abby approached, holding out a piece of paper.

“I did the best I could. I haven’t been here very long so I may not have everybody who interacts with the gallery.”

I glanced at the list. “Seven names…”

“If Anne ever shows up,” Abby said sarcastically, “she might give you more. Just do me one favor, okay? Please don’t tell her
everything
I confided earlier. If she knew I picked up her personal desk phone, she’d have a fit. Her office has a private land line: off limits to everyone.”

Abby didn’t want Anne to know she was in her office.
Okay, so what was Abby doing in there in the first place? She was clearly fearful of Anne. That was obvious. Why? Had Abby recognized the voice on Anne’s phone and make the connection and was now anxious for her own safety?

I know I’m going on and on, but this was bugging me. While Abby stood there, I checked the list again, perplexed.

Some of those names…

Chapter 44

The List

The first four names on Abby’s list were expected: Anne, Alicia, Chris and, of course, Abby herself. The next name was their UPS delivery driver:
the dead one
.

I glanced up. “There’s no name next to the UPS driver.”

“I haven’t been here long and don’t know it. Ask Anne.” The next one threw me:
Helen.
She was the woman Clay and I met at lunch that day, telling us to call her Lenny.

“Anne told me Helen is an art appraiser,” offered Abby.

What?
Helen had conveniently left that out of our conversation, hadn’t she?

I read on: A Lambertville gallery owner, named Jeffrey Price: the one Martha, Hazel and Betty met and relayed the rumor about the Worth Gallery’s discounted paintings.

Last was a Mrs. Walters. “Who’s she?”

“Part-timer who helps pack paintings. …Can I go now?”

Abby excused herself to finish packing some paintings for customers “before Attila The Hun returned,” she said. I watched her descend the stairway. I had much to mull over.

I was about to call my crew when Anne burst through the front door. I stood to call out to her, but she flew toward the packing area below. I scrambled down the stairs to catch up with her before she disappeared again. Entering the back room, I stopped.

Gone…

I turned when I heard someone cough. It was Abby. She was packing a painting into a box. Without saying a single word, she motioned with her eyes toward Anne’s door, which was closed. I nodded and silently walked over to it.

The sleuth in me listened, but really wanted to barge in, catching her at something illegal. The writer in me knocked gently and waited. Silence.
Good.
She wasn’t on the phone.

I expected her to yell, but Anne said softly, “Come in.”

I stopped cold when she looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed
: crying.
Had she heard about the UPS death? Had she known the driver personally?

“Anne, is everything alright?” I asked, shutting the door.

She noticed my maneuver with the door and stiffened.

“Yes, I’m fine. My allergies are killing me.”

I pushed her. “It’s just that you rushed in through the front door so suddenly and you’d missed that threatening call earlier…”

She had been shuffling some papers on her desk, but then looked up sharply. “What threatening call?”

I took the blame and kept Abby out of this.

“I was in the gallery alone and your phone rang. Your office door was open and I took the liberty of answering…”

She stood up, cutting me off midsentence. “You
what
?”

I kept talking. “Some nut called, making threats to you, me and this gallery. Would you know why he’d do that?”

She glared.

“Everyone knows not to answer my personal phone.”

Then a tear slipped out. I took a long shot on Mr. UPS.

“I guess you already heard about
his
death then.”

She dropped to her chair. “You knew about my ex?”

UPS was her ex?

I dropped to a chair myself and bluffed. “Yes.”