No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) (15 page)

Chapter 59

Juicy Tidbits & Morsels

The next day I was still reeling over Lenny’s eye-opener of a story. But in a way, I wasn’t, not after that day in her gallery. Did I think Lenny was being truthful about not knowing who else was involved? Maybe, but I wasn’t sure. I mean she was an appraiser, wasn’t she? And she probably knew what was going on from the very beginning. But was that outside threat what kept her quiet or was she a part of it and trying to deflect attention away from
her
for the time being.

If that was so, then what was she biding her time for? I recalled Tony obsessing over the Renoir. Was Lenny his partner? Now, that was something I hadn’t considered before: an art appraiser and Tony. Now that Jeffrey was dead, she could pin it all on Jeffrey, while
she
cashed in.

Was she after the Renoir for herself?

I walked into the gallery with every intention of talking with Antonia, but my senior special got there first. They were sitting in the kitchen, having coffee and laughing.

I almost didn’t recognize Antonia, who was now smiling broadly, glowing from all the attention showered upon her.

“Samantha,” she said, “Your friends brought Danish.”

Martha winked at me. “She works so hard back here…”

“Everyone forgets I’m even here,” said Antonia.

Hazel handed her another Danish. “It’s our pleasure.”

Betty poured her more coffee. “And about time.”

Flushed with excitement, Antonia said, “Call me Tony.”

Everyone went silent for a beat. …
Tony?

Antonia got nervous. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Uh, no. It’s just an odd nickname, that’s all,” I said.

“My daddy always wanted a boy,” she said, blushing.

We all breathed a collective sigh and nodded.

Martha bent in. “Speaking of Tony, do you know one?”

Antonia hesitated. “Not that I know of. …Should I?”

Out of the blue, Hazel asked. “What about Anne?”

“What about her?” Antonia asked.

Martha nudged her. “Have any juicy tidbits for us?”

“She has a lot of phone calls and one in particular…”

We were leaning in when Anne burst through the door.

“Ms. Walters! You have shipping orders to fill!”

“Oh, my! I was having such a good time, I forgot!”

Flustered, Antonia just about ran from the room.

Anne gave us a steely eye. “Don’t distract the help!”

To tell you the truth, Anne’s outburst never registered. None of us threw back any snarky remarks because we were still reeling from a fact that hit us all at the same time.

Martha eyed us. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I whispered excitedly, “I should’ve caught that earlier when I met her. Antonia Walters! Tony’s lighter! …AW!”

“She doesn’t look like a smoker to me,” said Hazel.

Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire.

Chapter 60

None Of The Above …Crap

The minute I heard Clay leave via his car rental (he was meeting with so-called friends regarding UPS and Jeffrey’s deaths
),
I hightailed it back to the gallery in the Jeep. Like an idiot, in all the excitement that morning, I had left my laptop up in the loft. It was so unlike me to be so forgetful. But considering events lately, I cut myself some slack. It was a chance to observe the dynamics of the gallery.

After cleaning up from our lunch at the house, Martha, Hazel and Betty left to snoop around in the Worths’ house, then check the packing/storage room that was downstairs to uncover evidence. They warned me to be careful. We were all uneasy about the ominous MIA: Tony. Clay urged me to keep my cell phone on. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

Abby and Antonia were in the Worth gallery packing area working. They said Anne was busy with clients on the phone in her office.
Good.
Everyone was there, so I went to work adding info into my laptop on the latest revelations. As a few customers came and went, I hustled down to help, telling the others to keep on working. They were busy and very grateful. Evidently, Anne was back to normal too.

Every once in a while, I would walk through the packing area to see what was going on and being packed up. Abby and Antonia were fielding calls about deliveries while packing. Now and then as they passed shipping info to Anne, it allowed me to overhear her explaining to one of the clients what she could or shouldn’t do to a painting so it’s would retain its value. Obviously, some clients needed persuading. After all, I’d heard her services didn’t come cheap. Art restorers, the good ones, made decent money.

The gallery was humming along and the recent deaths were put on hold because everyone’s attention was pulled elsewhere with the exception of me. This was challenging.

Who was guilty? Who was implicating the others?

I called Martha at home to say I was running late. I wanted to start on the first draft of my next mystery about the art of deception. After a while and needing to stretch, I stopped typing and glanced up. The nightlights were on in the gallery and it was now dark outside.

When did that happen?

No light was on in the loft. I was typing by the glow of my laptop. I glanced down to the tall windows below in the gallery. The street appeared deserted. I was so into my draft I never thought to look up or check the time
.
It was hours.

I decided to call it quits and did my backup. This was an unusual mystery that had potential. My agent would love it. It had market sizzle, too, to satisfy my publisher. My editor would be busy. I was so pleased with how it was turning out I was actually looking forward to my editor’s humorous and snarky side-margin remarks. I was about to shut down my laptop when I heard something downstairs. I thought back to earlier.

Abby had been the last to leave, right?

I vaguely remembered someone yelling up to me…

Did I make sure the door was locked? Set the alarm?

None of the above. …Crap.

Chapter 61

…And Then Some

Should I panic or wait to see if it was someone who forgot something legitimately and came back to retrieve it? That thought lasted all of two seconds. The odds were not running in my favor lately. Nasty things were going on and I was
alone
or at least thought I was.

But then another thought struck me. Whoever was down there probably thought they were alone in the gallery too, right? I was up in the loft silently working by the glow of my laptop. This was the perfect time for someone nefarious to sneak in and do whatever they were going to do and I was in the perfect position to catch them at it.

First thing I did was retrieve my cell phone and make sure it was turned on and had enough juice: it did,
good
. Then I switched it to silent/vibrate mode. I had to stay focused and remain calm. I slowly descended the stairs to the bottom then slid along the gallery wall in the shadows, working my way to the packing room door then paused.

I heard a voice. No! Two voices. I strained to hear them. They were muffled. I
had
to hear what they were saying. I also wanted to see what they were doing. I looked down at my phone. Should I text Martha and Clay? Since things had turned deadly, I let them know exactly what was going on. I wasn’t taking chances this time.

I placed my hand on the door handle and turned it slowly. Next thing I knew it swung outward forcefully right in my face and I was knocked on my ass, seeing stars after cracking my head hard on the hardwood floor. Two black-clad figures stood over me: one holding a gun. The room was spinning in circles as they leaned in close.

Then everything went black…

Someone was shaking me gently. I opened my eyes. My vision was fuzzy at first then began to focus. I tried to concentrate on what the voice was saying.

“Is she dead?” asked the female voice.

Then a man’s voice said, “She’s coming to!”

“Flash that light on her,” said the female.

They rolled me over. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

“Jesus! It’s Samantha!” said the female.

It was bad enough trying to focus, but that bright light…

“I’ll turn on the lights,” the male said getting up.

Information was slowly filtering through to my brain. Those voices… They felt familiar. My head hurt like hell from the rough fall, but I forced myself to think. Then it hit me. “I know who you two are….”

“Shhh….” said the female.

“Easy does it,” said the male.

I blinked once then blinked again, staring up at the duo.

It was Alicia and Chris Worth, the gallery owners.

Chapter 62

Well Look Who’s Here…

I didn’t know whether to try and bolt or pretend to faint so they wouldn’t shoot me because Chris was holding a gun. Their eyes focused on where I was staring: his hand. He put the gun down on the floor to put my mind at ease.

I sat up and winced, rubbing the back of my head.

Alicia, a gorgeous redhead, flashed apprehension. “Are you sure you’re okay? I feel terrible you fell and got hurt.”

“Can you at least speak?” asked Nordic-blonde Chris.

I looked Alicia in the eye.
A.W
. “…Do you smoke?”

She turned to Chris. “Should I have her count fingers?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said, rubbing my head. “Ouch!”

“Sorry about that,” said Alicia contritely.

“We thought you were an intruder,” said Chris.

I began to relax, but only slightly.
This could be an act.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be in London!” I accused.

Alicia shook her head. “We were right up the road.”

“Where?” I asked trying to make sense of it all.

Chris smiled. “We were staying north of New Hope at the Hotel du Village.”

“But you texted Clay from London.” I countered.

Then they both smiled.
What a dummy.
Texting doesn’t confirm or deny where you were texting from. “Smart.”

“We were hoping you guys would help us catch who’s been trying to ruin us,” explained Alicia.

“I know we should have alerted you, but our computers were hacked. We were desperate, not knowing who to trust. We only felt safe sending brief texts to Clay,” said Chris.

“This has been a rat’s nest and complicated,” I said.

“We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” said Chris.

“Why didn’t you let on to Clay?” I asked.

“We ran after our last threat, but then talked it over at the airport and decided to return, but do it without telling anyone. We knew Clay along with you and your crew were more than competent to flush out who was ruining us.”

“But after our UPS guy was killed then Jeffrey, we decided to dig deeper ourselves, but at night instead when no one was around. We were going to call Clay after we finished checking the paintings in the gallery tonight…”

I was quite alert now. “So that was one of you that I saw in the gallery that evening in the dark, checking behind the paintings,” I said. “What were you checking for?”

“That was me,” said Chris, nodding. “We needed to see if someone was tampering with any of the paintings when our computer system was hacked. Someone had access.”

“What made you leave after only checking one wall?”

“I thought I heard someone. I didn’t want to be spotted.”

“I was watching you,” I said.

I tried to stand on shaky legs, so they helped me up.

“Perfect! Just who I’ve been looking for,” said a voice.

Just when you think you’ve got a handle on it…

Chapter 63

A Thug, A Lighter & A Renoir

The three of us stood there staring at an angry Tony.

“You know, my patience has reached its limit,” he said. “I either want a refund or my Renoir!”

Alicia and Chris looked at each other then at me.

“What is he talking about?” asked Alicia.

“What Renoir?” Chris asked.

I briefly explained how I had met Tony and the painting he allegedly bought and the amount he paid. “I had no clue the name of who painted it until the other day when Tony chased me through your house at gunpoint looking for it.”

“Alleged? I paid cash instead of a check for a discount!”

Cash? Maybe Tony wasn’t as smart as I thought.

Chris and Alicia both turned back to Tony.

“We know nothing about that,” explained Alicia.

“We never sold a Renoir to anyone,” said Chris.

Shouts were heard as the packing room door flew open. Anne was roughly shoved through it, slamming into the three of us.

“Who do you think you are?” she then snarled over her shoulder at the person who had shoved her into the room.

We looked from Anne to who had pushed her in.

Antonia smiled smugly back. “Tony’s mother, Antonia Walter’s.”

I then turned to Tony. “And you are?”

He smiled. “Anthony Walters.”

I just had to know. “Okay, which one of you smokes?” They looked at me like I was crazy. “The lighter?” I said.

“Neither of us,” said Tony. “It was a gift.”

I wanted answers. “I have another question for you.”

Tony sighed. “What now?”

“What was in the crate from the Worths’ shed?”

His face went beet red. “Nothing! It was empty!”

“Mind me asking what was supposed to be in it?”

I could see steam rising. “My $100,000 painting!”

I held up my index finger cautiously.

Tony sighed again. “Now, what?”

“How did you know the Worths’ gate code?”

He pointed at Anne. “Her ex gave it to me.”

I turned to Anne.

“I swear I had no idea. He must have gotten it from my wallet. I’m awful with numbers. I go to the Worths’ if they get a new painting that might need repair work.”

Alicia nodded. “She’s telling the truth. That’s why we agreed to the gallery arrangement: her talent and expertise.”

I turned back to Anne. “Can you explain the receipt?”

“My ex forged my signature, but I didn’t know to who.”

I turned back to Tony again. “You had two receipts?”

His face flushed red again. “I got screwed twice.”

I half-smiled. “That was an expensive lesson.”

Antonia swatted Tony. “You bought both paintings?”

“It was an investment and the price was right,” he said.

Antonia shot back, “Madonna? My ass. That’s not a famous painting of her, you idiot! Tell me you at least got our money back. I should smack you for sheer stupidity.”

“There was a slight set-back,” Tony said. “It’s missing.”

“Which one?” Antonia asked.

“The $100,000 one.”

It looked like Antonia was going to attack her own son. We backed up when the two of them began arguing back and forth. I made eye contact with Chris, looking from the floor to his gun. He glanced at Alicia, who was watching the two of us, eyeballing back and forth. She blinked,
okay.

Chris nodded at both of us. It was now or never.

He dove for his gun, but was quickly cut off by Tony, who was faster and stronger. They both hit the wall with the paintings and Alicia screamed as one crashed to the floor. Something broke loose from behind it: a canvas.

Antonia pointed and yelled, “Tony, stop. Over there!”

Chris’s gun was still on the floor forgotten temporarily.

Anne shouted, “My Renoir!”

“
Your
Renoir?” said Tony walking over to it to look.

By this time we were all circling the canvas.

Tony’s was beaming. “I finally got it.”

I looked over to Anne. “…
Your
Renoir?”

“Remember I told you my ex threatened me…?”

The Renoir was the painting Anne forged, her ex must have found and stolen, then sold it.

“But what about Jeffrey? Who killed him?”

Anne’s eyes flashed to mine. “Don’t look at me.”

Antonia shook her head no.

“I didn’t kill anyone. I just threaten a lot,” said Tony.

“Then Jeffrey really did die in a gas explosion,” I said.

“I guess so,” said Anne.

“Then who killed your ex?” I asked her.

A loud laugh: we all turned. …
Lenny?
She turned to Anne, laughing harder. “Your ex and Jeffrey were complete fools. Your ex sold the painting through Jeffrey and he stuffed the $100,000 under our mattress. I found it and took it. But then Tony began threatening Jeffrey when he discovered the crate was empty. Your ex stiffed him on the delivery, so Jeffrey figured he would just give Tony back his money.

“That was when Jeffrey became completely unhinged and confessed to me because he couldn’t repay Tony. He said that Tony’s money was missing from under the mattress. It was a perfect plan.

“All I had to do was to get rid of some loose ends and I’d have the Renoir and the money for myself. So I waited patiently for one of you to find if for me. Of course, I had to use some diversions and decoys along the way to stall you. But it was worth it because now I have the Renoir!”

Oh, we were in big trouble…