Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (52 page)

“Who brokered the auction?” Jefferson asked.

“That would be me,” Montfort said, the color now fading from his face. “Are you saying my European counterpart on the purchase was not truthful with me?”

“Did he represent this painting as an original?”

At Montfort’s nod, Jefferson shook his head. “Then he was not truthful.”

“What else was in that lot?” Sadie asked him.

Montfort looked to his employer to supply the details. Mr. Astor found the note in the ledger.

“In addition to the Durer, there were several pieces of various antiquities and one other painting.” He lifted his gaze. “The Rembrandt.”

“Before we see it,” Sadie said, “I wonder if you could show me the invoices and any other documentation for the purchase.”

“Yes, of course. I have photographs of the entire lot in my files. I can have a courier bring them down from New York immediately.”

“That would be most helpful.” Sadie offered Mr. Astor a brilliant smile. “Actually, would it be possible for your courier to bring all of the files related to Mr. Montfort’s purchases? And the photographs, of course.”

“Easily done.” Astor pulled the bell for a servant, and his butler arrived a heartbeat later. “Ring New York and have everything Montfort sent me gathered up and delivered. I want them here tonight.”

The butler nodded and hurried off.

“Montfort was quite thorough in documenting the pieces in order to help me decide on whether to finalize the purchase.” Astor offered the man in question a smile. “He always is.”

Jefferson’s attention went to the attorney, who was now perspiring profusely despite the cool temperature in the room. “As a point of clarification, Mr. Montfort, are you on retainer to Mr. Astor alone?”

“Oh, no,” Astor said. “A man of his caliber cannot be held to one man.” He smiled again at the attorney. “I heard of Montfort from my friend Commodore Luckenbach, who convinced him to take me on as his client.”

“And an honor it has been,” Montfort managed.

“He has quite a stellar client list,” Astor continued. “Although, as I am sure you understand, these men would not wish to be included in any discussion that would bring them notoriety.”

Sadie exchanged a look with him. “Of course.”

“And he facilitates discreet purchases, such as this lot from the Italian nobleman?” Jefferson asked.

“Spanish,” Montfort corrected. “And yes, I do act to discreetly protect my clients from anyone who might take advantage of their wealth. When one finds that an Astor or a Vanderbilt is bidding, one often raises the prices.”

“Yes, I am sure one would,” Jefferson said. “I wonder if I could trouble you to show Agent Callum the Rembrandt, Mr. Astor. Mr. Montfort looks as if he needs to sit down.”

“Absolutely.” Astor came around the desk to study the lawyer. “Are you ill, Montfort?”

“I’m afraid I…I am, sir.”

“Then do sit. It would be my pleasure to escort the lady up to the drawing room.”

Jefferson waited until he was alone with Montfort before closing the door and turning to face him. “Tell me everything. And you can start with Sergio Valletta.”

The attorney removed a handkerchief from his vest pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “You understand that I am under no obligation to tell you anything.”

“And yet you will,” Jefferson said as he took a seat across from him. “Because I do not believe you are the only one who should be arrested.”

“Arrested!”

“A man who was an unwilling pawn just might find a judge who would offer leniency.” He paused to allow that statement to sink in. “And trust me when I tell you that there are courts in Great Britain that will want to hear testimony from you as well. Are you acquainted with this Sir Edward that Mr. Astor has spoken of?”

“No. He is not a man I know personally.”

“I see. And have you made trips to Egypt or perhaps Iraq in the past? Or are you merely the man who sees that antiquities reach the London black market?”

It was supposition, and yet the moment Jefferson asked the question, he knew he was right. Montfort blanched, and he looked as if he might faint dead away.

Thirty-Nine

L
ouis Montfort crumpled his handkerchief in his fist and sighed. “Valletta is not the man you want.”

“You are mistaken.” Jefferson leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Valletta is the name that everything goes back to. The invoices, the ship’s manifest. And a particularly nasty blow to the head that Agent Callum took when Valletta threw a bag of supposed antiquities at her.”

The attorney gasped. “That he would do such a thing seems impossible. The man I know is…”

“Is a fraud. Incidentally, he attacked Miss Callum after she announced herself as a Pinkerton agent.”

Jefferson had not yet decided the depth of this man’s involvement in Valletta’s schemes, but he was beginning to suspect that the lawyer’s worst crime was greed and nothing more.

“But he offered up papers. Documentation. He allowed photographs, which I then delivered to my clients who wished to have them.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe that a man who swore on the head of his son that he was dealing in good faith would be doing exactly the opposite.”

“His son?” Jefferson shook his head. “Sergio Valletta has no son.” Nor did he have any other family, at least none that were known to authorities.

Montfort looked up sharply. “Indeed he does, sir. A young man of good manners and quite well educated. It is my understanding that he has been assisting his father in Europe for several years and has only just returned to the United States to take up some sort of enterprise here.”

“He’s likely enlarging the business to bring the black market goods he’s stealing out of Egypt and Iraq to the American marketplace.”

“Truly sir, if you were to meet the young man, I believe you would have a different opinion.”

Jefferson’s laughter held no humor. “And how do you propose I do this?”

“I can easily arrange that. Mrs. Valletta has family here in Newport.”

“You are claiming Sergio is hiding a wife too?”

“Not Sergio. His son.”

The door opened and Sadie stepped inside ahead of Mr. Astor. Jefferson rose but Montfort stayed where he was.

“Just as I suspected, the painting is not an original. A clever forgery, but still a forgery,” she said, looking at Jefferson.

“Forgive me,” Astor said to him, “but I must leave now. Use my library as long as you need, and when you’re ready to go, please take my carriage. I will let the driver know to be at the ready.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

He waved away Jefferson’s thanks. “It’s a small thing compared to the work you are doing to resolve this issue of ours. Rest assured that the moment the files arrive I will see that they are delivered. Where are you staying?”

“Hampstead Farms,” Sadie said.

“Very well.” He turned his attention to Montfort, moving toward the attorney to place his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you still unwell?”

“I am recovering, sir.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind coming back the day after tomorrow? Let’s say after lunch. Mamie will be here by then, and I’m sure she will be giving you a list of items she must have for her redo.”

Montfort mustered a smile. “I shall look forward to it, sir.”

Astor held the lawyer’s attention. “And this time perhaps we will use a different supplier.” He paused. “Someone that our friends Mr. Tucker and Miss Callum will not have to return to discuss.”

Relief flooded Montfort’s face. “Yes. Absolutely, sir.”

Jefferson reached to shake Mr. Astor’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

His handshake was firm. “My pleasure. And do tell our mutual friend at the museum hello if you have occasion to speak with him.”

“I will.”

“You know, this business is unfortunate,” Astor continued. “It makes me wonder if living here so far from the museums and collectors in Europe is the best choice.” He paused to regard Jefferson with an appraising look. “Perhaps I should make England my home. You like it there, don’t you? There is nothing like the culture and arts a man can experience in that part of the world.”

“I do highly recommend it, sir,” Jefferson said.

“Yes, well, it is something to consider.” He turned to Sadie and offered her a smile. “It has been a pleasure, Agent Callum. You are every bit as charming as Mamie said you would be. Do please return when we can entertain you socially rather than have to do this sort of thing.”

“I would like that very much.”

He glanced past her to Jefferson. “And bring your friend Mr. Tucker.” With that, Mr. Astor said his goodbyes and went on his way.

Jefferson leaned toward Sadie, his voice low. “Have the butler summon a police officer immediately. We may have a situation here.” When Sadie’s brows gathered in an expression of confusion, he continued. “He can take us to Valletta.”

She nodded and hurried away. Jefferson returned to his seat.

“I believe we were discussing Mrs. Valletta’s family. You said they are local to Newport?”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded vigorously. “I found it particularly convenient to have a representative of Mr. Valletta’s nearby, what with a good concentration of my clientele spending their summers here and owning these lovely cottages that are in need of decorating with beautiful art.”

“All right.” Jefferson stood. “I am going to give you a chance to prove that you’re telling the truth.”

“I don’t follow.”

“If Mrs. Valletta is in Newport, then you will take me to meet her.”

“Right now?” Montfort rose on unsteady legs. “Yes, I can take you to her home. I know it well. But as to whether she has returned, I cannot say.”

“Returned? From where?”

“I believe she had some sort of travels planned that would take her away from the city for a few months. At least, that is what she told me upon the occasion of our last conversation.”

“Which was when?”

“That would have been in late December of last year when the crate came for the Astors and a few other New York clients. Mrs. Valletta traveled to the city to see that all was in order. Because Mr. Astor wished his crate to come here, I had the pleasure of returning to Newport in her company.”

“Excuse me.” The butler now stood in the doorway. “There are Officers Barker and Crowley to see you, sir.”

“Thank you. We will be right out,” Jefferson told him.

“Officers?” Montfort fell back onto his chair. “You’re having me arrested?”

Jefferson shook his head. “I am having you placed in protective custody. To keep you safe.”