Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft (31 page)

After a while, I heard
one of my neighbors being discharged. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the chatty one.
Then a doctor came in and evaluated me. He pronounced me fit aside from a few
flesh wounds. He stitched the laceration along my collarbone, the punctures in
my abdomen, leg, and forearm, and the largest of the four cuts on my leg, then he
had Tanner come back and wash the others. Ellmann returned as Tanner was
beginning to apply clean dressings.

Ellmann glanced at
Danielle sitting beside me, and I caught a glimpse of his surprise. He played
it off as he nodded to her and stopped beside the bed, taking my hand.

“How do you feel?” he
asked.

“I’m good. The doctor
says they’re just flesh wounds. I’m to rest, have my stitches out in seven
days, and seek PT for my leg and forearm. How’s Natalie?”

He sighed. “She’s
fine. She’s being treated for two lacerations, and then she’ll be released.
Priscilla’s okay, too, but they want to keep her overnight for observation.
Most of the blood in the kitchen was hers, apparently.”

Seemed Desirae
had
heard that the fear of pain is more effective than pain itself. Natalie had
been doing a lot of screaming. Whatever Desirae had been describing must have
been horrific, which wasn’t hard to believe.

“Thank God. I was
worried. Priscilla looked pretty bad.”

“Looks like she’ll
live to harass you another day.”

“She is sort of a pain
in the ass, isn’t she?” Danielle asked. “She did a lot of blubbering.”

Yep, I definitely
liked Danielle.

“Yeah, well, her life
was a lot different than yours or mine. She’ll probably never be the same after
this.”

I saw genuine sadness
on her face then and knew it was a reflection of my own. Whatever the history
was between Priscilla Casimir and me, I would never wish trauma like this on
anyone.

“No one should have
scars like those,” Danielle said, no doubt thinking of hers as I thought of
mine.

“No, they shouldn’t.”

Tanner dressed the
last of my wounds then cleaned up. He gave me a spiel about wound care for
stitches, and I listened patiently even though I was already well versed. Then
I asked if I could leave.

He went to get Sadie,
who returned with a clipboard and a piece of paper, which I signed. She gave me
a copy then let down the side rail on the bed. I stood and tucked my copy of
the discharge instructions into my pocket.

“Don’t forget what I
said,” she called as I pushed open the curtain.

I looked back. “I
won’t.”

Then Ellmann walked
with Danielle and me outside.

“I called a patrol car
to give you a ride back to your truck,” Ellmann said. “Think you can drive?”

Sadie had found me a
bottle of water and given me the sandwich she’d brought for lunch. I was
feeling a lot better.

“I think so.”

“Good. I’ll take
Natalie home and get her settled. Then I’ll come over.”

“I’ll get home as soon
as I can.”

I looked at him for a
moment, and I could tell he knew what I meant. He nodded.

“Oh, one more thing,”
I said to him. “Is your case all wrapped up now?”

He nodded. “Pretty
much. The FBI and all the local guys are just filing paperwork now, tying up
loose ends.”

“But, you’ve made all
the arrests you’re going to?” I clarified, glancing at Danielle.

“
I’ve
made all
the arrests
I’m
going to make,” he said. “I can’t speak for the other
guys, like the FBI … or Interpol.”

He squeezed my hand.
“See you later.”

He kissed my cheek
then offered his hand to Danielle.

“It really was nice to
meet you,” he said. And he meant it. I could see he liked her, respected her.

“Thank you,” she said.
“I feel the same way, Detective.”

“Uh, it’s Ellmann,” he
said. “Just Ellmann for right now.”

“I hope it stays that
way.”

“Me too.”

A patrol car pulled up five minutes
later, and Danielle and I piled in. The officer looked familiar to me, but I
didn’t know his name. And I was grateful he didn’t seem up for talking as he
drove us back to Lyle Young’s house.

Young’s house was
still hopping with activity when we arrived, and I guessed it would be for
several more hours. I knew from experience things like this didn’t happen
quickly. I was just glad I wasn’t required to stick around.

I thanked the officer,
who told me to say hello to Ellmann, then Danielle and I walked over to the
Scout, which had been pushed off the driveway into the lawn. Thankfully, no
damage had been done to it. Stan would have come back to haunt me if there had
been.

As I motored up Lemay,
Danielle glanced at her watch.

“I think we’ll make
it,” she said happily.

I laughed. “If you
were ready to stop running, you could have just turned yourself in.”

“I thought of that, but
then I thought of the money—the reward, or whatever it is. You deserve that.”

She was talking about
the “capture fee” or “recovery fee,” usually called a “bounty” on TV. I sure
wouldn’t mind the money, but I felt accomplished just having laid eyes on her
before the deadline. I also realized had she not turned herself in, I might never
have caught her.

“I appreciate it. Too
bad everyone doesn’t make it this easy.”

She laughed. “Job
security, I suppose.”

I chuckled, wincing at
the pain it elicited in my abdomen.

Then my thoughts
turned back to the case.

“You’re an
art thief,” I said softly. It was a statement, not an accusation.

I’ve made
mention of my troubled youth. Theft is on the list. I couldn’t sit and point an
accusatory finger at anyone else when I’d been guilty of the same thing, even
if it was in my past.

“I prefer
the term ‘grifter.’”

“But you
steal things, don’t you?”

She
nodded. I didn’t detect any shame in her, but I thought I saw some remorse.

“I do take
things from people who can afford to lose them,” she said. “My childhood taught
me two things: how to read people and how to lie. Put them together and you
have a grifter. I put my skills to use early, conning kids out of lunch money
and homework answers. Later, it was clothes and meals, and then apartments and
cars. It was the easiest way for me to get what I needed.

“One day I
lifted a gold Rolex. I sold it and lived off the money for a month. I quickly
saw how much more lucrative that was, and that I wouldn’t have to worry about
relying on anyone else. I started small—watches and jewelry mostly. Then it was
lower-end art. Turns out, I’m pretty good at it. Before long, I was walking
away with big scores, and there were jobs all over the world.”

“People
commissioned jobs from you.”

She nodded
again. “At first, I would steal whatever I chose then try to unload it. It
didn’t take long to figure out it’s better the other way. When there is a piece
someone wants, they call with the job. This is simpler, because I know exactly
what to take and how much I’ll get for it, and I pass the pieces on immediately
rather than hanging on to them for weeks, or even months, trying to auction
them off.”

“You said
you have something your sister wants. You have the jade sculpture, don’t you?”

She was
quiet for a moment then said, “You
are
good.”

Between
you and me, it’s a lot of luck and a little bit of guessing.

“Yes, I
have the sculpture.”

“Lyle
Young, or whatever his real name is, is also a thief. He really did steal that
diamond from the British Museum. That’s how he can afford a Jaguar and a house
like the one he’s got.”

“Yes. He’s
very good. He does most of his work in Europe, including the diamond you
mentioned.”

“He stole
the statue from India ten years ago, didn’t he?”

When she
didn’t answer, I glanced at her and saw she was staring at me.

“I think
he was the private collector who had the jade carvings,” I went on. “Maybe he
stole them, maybe he didn’t; I don’t know. But he also had the sculpture, so
those rumors about them being in the same private collection were true. Eric
Dunn is an art collector. Based on the stolen Russian egg I saw at his place,
and the fact that so many of his pieces are very rare, I’d say he’s the type to
commission thefts. I think he paid Lyle to steal the Russian egg. I think
that’s how Caroline Marks got killed.”

I could
tell by her expression I was on the right track.

“I think
Eric Dunn also paid someone to steal those jade pieces for him. I think that
person was you. I think you stole them from Lyle Young. Why did you keep the
sculpture?”

She
sighed. “Okay, look, let me explain a couple things. First, you’re right about
Lyle. He’s had the carvings and the sculpture for the last ten years. They were
the centerpieces of his collection and a huge boost to his business. The good
jobs are the ones that can’t be explained. The best are those that are never
recognized as jobs. It was widely known in art circles the sculpture had been
stolen. But the carvings had been, too—only no one knew it. Well, only a very
select number of people knew it.

“Second,
Eric
is
an art collector, but it didn’t happen quite how you think.
Caroline Marks was killed for the egg. Desirae killed her. Lyle had tried and
failed twice to steal the egg—very unusual for him. A few days ago, he tried
again. This time Desirae was involved. My guess is, Caroline walked in on them,
and Desirae killed her, but I don’t really know the details. But Eric didn’t
commission it. He’d been to Caroline’s house and seen her collection for
himself. He loved the egg, like we all do, but he never wanted it stolen. And he
certainly never wanted Caroline dead. Eric is a lot of things, but he isn’t a
murderer.

“Last
summer, a big-shot Hollywood producer with a passion for Indian art
commissioned me to retrieve the carvings and the sculpture. I knew Lyle had
them, and despite his security systems, it wasn’t hard to obtain them. I’d left
town the next day to deliver them to the buyer. I flew to California, made the
delivery, then flew to Europe to discuss another job. I was headed back when I
learned about Mitchell. It hadn’t taken Desirae and Lyle very long to figure
out it was me. Like I said, I’m very good. But in this case, that gave me away.
There weren’t too many people who could have pulled off the job, and with me
being so close to home, I was a likely suspect.

“When
they’d gone to my house, they’d expected me to be there. Instead, they found
Mitchell and our babysitter. They tortured and killed them both. Desirae tried
to pry out of Mitch where I was and where I’d taken the pieces. Mitchell was a
good man. He wasn’t stupid; he didn’t believe I’d inherited my money, but he
never asked where it came from or what I was doing when I was out of town. And
he didn’t know what I did; I never told him any details.

“After
hearing about Mitchell, I knew it had been Desirae, and I knew what she was
after. I also knew it wouldn’t be long until she found the pieces. I’d long
been aware of my sister’s habits. For years, I’d tried to help her, to reach
out to her. But she resented me. The same things happened to us both, and I
didn’t turn out the same way she did. She didn’t want to be like she was, and
she hated me because I wasn’t. One day, she met Lyle. Lyle doesn’t really like
violence, but he really likes art. I think he recognized how Desirae could help
him, torturing people for passwords and other security secrets.

“I’d
figured out right away what my sister and Lyle were doing. They left a string
of bodies that lined up pretty neatly with a string of thefts to anyone who
went looking. Anyone who got in their way was killed. Anyone who had
information they needed was tortured.”

“That’s
why you were doing research and clipping newspaper articles,” I said,
remembering the desk and computer in the basement apartment at the Conrad
house.

She
nodded. “Yes, I was tracking their movements. But no matter how closely I
followed them, I couldn’t prove any of it. It wasn’t difficult finding where
the pieces went, but I could never connect either of them to any theft or
murder. In order to buy some time, I decided it was best for me to stay dead
for a while. It killed me to have my son put into foster care, but I knew
Desirae wouldn’t stop until someone made her. I knew to do that it would take
evidence I could hand over to the police. As an insurance policy, I stole the
carvings and sculpture back from Hollywood. Not the best move for business, but
this is my son I’m talking about here.

“A while
back, I figured out Desirae keeps things from her victims sometimes—jewelry
mostly. Lyle’s been known to keep a souvenir now and again, too. They keep
these things in a safe at Lyle’s as well as in various safety deposit boxes
across the country, or at least I thought they did. It took me almost three
months, but I finally got into the safe at Lyle’s. It was a total bust. Each
time I confirmed a box, I went and had a look. I’ve been to New York, Los
Angeles, Miami, Phoenix, Las Vegas, and half a dozen others. I never found
anything I recognized. In May, I learned about Desirae’s box at First National
Bank here in town.

“Eric is Jerry’s
lawyer. It was Eric who worked with the court to get Rusty placed with the
Vandreens. Of course, at the time, we didn’t know what Jerry was like. I only
met him once, and I never picked up on it. I should have, but I didn’t.

“Anyway,
Eric was at Jerry’s office one day and saw Desirae there. He thought it was me,
and he asked me about it. Guessing her reason for visiting the bank, I did a
bit of digging and found out about the box. In April, I went in. Jerry was the
staff member I worked with. I got in the box and found it empty.

“A week
after I was there, my sister went to the bank. Jerry made a comment about her
having just been there, and she knew it was me. I knew Jerry was the one who
had Rusty, but Desirae did some digging and found out the same thing. She sent
me a message asking me if I knew what Jerry was doing to my son. I did a little
looking on my own. Furious, I confronted him at the bank. That was the day I
was arrested.

“Eric is
Rusty’s father. Like I said, Eric is an art collector. He had a piece someone
was interested in. I took the job. I play all my cons a little differently, but
the best way I found to get close enough to Eric’s piece was to play a romantic
angle. It was a slightly longer job. I was just about to grab the piece and
walk away when I found out I was pregnant.

“I’d never
planned on kids. My lifestyle wasn’t really conducive to that sort of thing.
But once I found out I was going to have one, I decided I wanted his life to be
different than mine had been. I wanted him to have a stable home, a loving
family, two parents who would always be there for him—a life free of abuse.
Eric Dunn wasn’t that man. I may have missed the signs in Jerry, but I picked
up on Eric’s almost right away. And I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to
be a victim anymore. After getting close to Eric, I had enough leverage to
ensure an amicable relationship.

“After I
was arrested, I asked Eric for help. I wanted him to get Rusty into a new home
and to make my problem with Jerry go away. He said he would do what he could
about Rusty. He wasn’t father material, but Rusty was his son, and some part of
him loved the kid. He didn’t want to take care of him, but he wanted him taken
care of, you know? But I didn’t see that he was real motivated to help me. So I
left the carvings on his kitchen table. They were way too hot to try to unload,
so he was stuck with them. They also tied him to more dead bodies than any
lawyer wants to be tied to. He knew I left them.

“The
following day, he made the security camera footage disappear from the bank. It
looked like a technical error, and it made the case a he-said/she-said thing.
He also put huge pressure on Jerry to have DHS relocate Rusty. But my little
carving thing backfired. Jerry dropped by Eric’s house and saw them. Eric
stupidly put them on display. Jerry recognized them for what they were—how,
I’ll never know. Now Jerry had Eric by the short and curlies, too. There wasn’t
much Eric could do. He backed off Jerry, and Rusty stayed where he was.”

She paused
and shook her head. “How can I ever make up for what I did to my son? How can
he ever forgive me?”

I reached
over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t beat yourself up yet,” I said. “Rusty is
very young. Once you take him home and start loving on him again, he may not
remember what he’s been through.”

“Think
so?”

“Worth a
shot. And better than the alternative.”

“Yeah.
You’re right.”

“How did
the egg wind up at Eric’s house?” I asked.

“Desirae
put it there. She’d gone to visit Eric, pressing him about where I was. He
didn’t know, but she didn’t believe him. She put the egg in his house to help
ensure his cooperation. With a stolen piece in his possession, she’d only have
to make one anonymous phone call to the police and he’d be arrested for murder.
Of course, she just left the egg Friday, so there wasn’t really time for that
plan to work out.”