Perhaps sell it on eBay, just as you did, Flynn guessed. Or dump it in the ocean. Its terribly difficult to move that sort of art and antiquities on the black market.
But I still dont get it, Dagne insisted.
It went something like this, Flynn said patiently. Geoffrey is a claims adjuster for Lloyds. He and Myron met up somewhere along the way and concocted the scheme that would make them rich or so they hoped. Essentially, they took small items from the various RIHPS properties and dumped them in Rachels basement, or in Geoffreys carhe brought them here, you see. Apparently, its only used in the summer months, so they were quite safe here for a time. And at Rachels, well He looked at Rachel, smiled a little. They were lost, or used as fruit bowls or what have you.
Back at the offices, the detective said, Myron would make the claim for the loss, and Geoffrey would process it. But the claims were always significantly higher than the property was worth.
Lloyds took the claim, Flynn continued, submitted by their adjuster and substantiated by both the adjuster and a professor from Brown University. Somehow, they arranged for the claim to be paid to Myron at RIHPS. RIHPS got the actual value for the lost property, and these two chaps split the additional claim moneythey were skimming the gray area. Quite clever, really.
So how did they get caught? Dagne asked.
As is usually the case with such scams, Flynn said, they got greedy. Our fraud detection unit noticed an unusually high number of claims were being submitted. Their excuse was, of course, a series of thefts had occurred. But our colleagues in America, he said, looking at Joe, had determined those thefts to be an inside job.
Dagne let out a long sigh and shook her head. What a jackass, she said. I just cant understand why Myron would risk so much, she said. It wasnt like he didnt have a good job. A professor at Brown?
Tenure, Rachel muttered miserably. He couldnt get tenure. He had another few months and they were going to let him go.
Ah, the detective said. That explains a lot.
A man appeared at Rachels left. Miss Lear? Were ready for you now.
Thanks, Ted, she said, and sighed wearily as she came to her feet.
All right, ladies, dont go anywhere for a couple of weeks, okay? Well need to talk to you again, the detective said, just like on Law & Order .
Fine, Dagne said, sounding exasperated, but Rachel knew that lilt in her voice meant shed be more than happy for Detective Keating to question her again.
As for Rachel she couldnt even bring herself to look at Flynn. Between her humiliation at having been duped by Myron for all the world to see, and the pain of having fallen in love with someone who was using her to get to Myron she just wanted out of there.
She got up, put her bag on her shoulder, and started walking without a word, without looking back to anyone, hardly caring if Dagne followed her or not, not even looking at Ted, who smiled and pointed to the jet on the tarmac.
Rachel! Flynn called after her, but she did not turn around. When her foot hit the tarmac, she began to run, not caring that she looked like a fool, running across the tarmac. She just wanted to be gone.
She was already strapped into her seat by the time Dagne managed to get on. Holy shit ! Dagne exclaimed in awe. My God, this is your dads ? she said reverently, gaping in disbelief.
One, anyway, Rachel muttered miserably, and Dagne screeched her glee, then prattled on about the gold fixtures, the bed, and the leather seats and monogrammed towels, and on and on
Rachel said nothing. She couldnt speak. Tears were streaming down her face as she stared out the little portal window at Flynn. He was standing at the edge of the tarmac. His hair was all messed up, and she imagined he had dragged his fingers through it several times in the course of the day. With his weight braced on one leg, he had a hand on his waist and was staring at the Lear plane with an expression that Rachel could not quite make out.
BY the time Flynn and Joe arrived back in Providence the next afternoon, the press was all over the breaking story. They picked up the Providence Journal on the drive from Boston to Providence. The headline read:
BROWN UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR IS MASTERMIND BEHIND INSURANCE SCAM
Oh, Christ, Flynn muttered, and read the article aloud to Joe, who beamed like a bloody idiot. There were several quotes in the article. Myrons boss at the RIHPS claimed Myron had been a fringe employee for some time, often missing work or coming in late, and misplacing items in their catalog.
His dean at Brown University called him a mediocre professor whose path to tenure had never materialized.
And then, of course, was the paragraph about the girlfriend, naming Rachel, who, according to the paper, had not yet been charged, but in whose house the stolen goods had been stored.
Its a bloody circus, Flynn said.
Yeah. Joe beamed.
They arrived at police headquarters, and a dozen or more reporters were waiting for them, all anxious to have a word with them about their work on the case. They held a joint press conference, speaking on behalf of their respective organizations. Joe was a natural, parading around like a peacock, but Flynn stood back, let Joe have the spotlight, particularly when his higher-ups praised the work hed done.
They filed their joint reports and spoke with prosecutors, who assured them that while Myron and his accomplice faced extradition hearings from South Carolina, that a full range of theft and fraud charges would be brought against each of them, as well as a charge for possession of a significant amount of marijuana, guaranteeing at least twenty years behind bars before there was any hope of parole.
The media frenzy increased throughout the week as the national news media picked up the story. Images of items being carted out of Rachels house were broadcast over and over again.
With all the media attention, Flynn didnt want to go to her house and draw more. Nevertheless, he tried to ring Rachel, of course he triedbut she hung uprather, slammed the phone down each time, refusing to talk to him. And then she had her phone disconnected altogether.
Flynn busied himself with the smaller but important case details that had to be attended, biding his time until he could find a way to reach her.
His superiors hoped he might track down the things Dagne Delaney had sold on eBay, which took a bit of time. And there was the thorough examination of the contents of Rachels house. While Flynn did not attend the gutting of her house, he did examine the items in an RIHPS warehouse. He believed, as he told his superiors in London, that they would be able to recover most, if not all of the items.
There was the media, too, which had yet to complete their feeding on this particular story. It wasnt until the end of that extraordinary week that Flynn was certain no media was following him around and that things were secure enough to drive to Rachels house. He arrived on a gray Sunday afternoon, parked in the drive, just behind her car. He walked up the porch steps and knocked on her door.
Before she could possibly answer, her neighbor was instantly at the side of the yard. Are you a policeman? he called out to Flynn.
Flynn glanced impatiently at the man. Why do you ask?
Oh youre the Englishman! he said, smiling now. I hope a policeman comes, because I got more things to tell them.
Now Flynn turned fully and looked at him with all the disgust he felt. Do you, indeed? What sort of things might those be, mate?
Well, I am suing her because she wont move the tree, he said, gesturing wildly toward the back of her house. And she has this friend, and they do some strange things at night. Ive seen them.
Fascinating, Flynn said as he walked down the porch steps to where the man was standing. Go on.
I saw her carry some things to the garage, too. I think its stolen property.
Flynn stopped just inches from the worm. Whats your name?
Tony Valicielo.
Tony Valicielo, let me offer you a bit of friendly advice, if I may, he said pleasantly, then roughly grabbed him by the collar, hauled him up to his tiptoes.
Hey! Valicielo yelped.
I am still quite involved in this case, and if I hear you or hear of you saying even the slightest thing against Miss Lear, I will personally come to your house and beat the living shit out of you.
Tony Valicielo blinked.
Just so that we are perfectly clear, I do mean the living shit out of you. And furthermore, if you do not cease and
-desist in your spying on Miss Lear, I shall personally have you arrested and thrown into a jail cell where you will promptly be forgotten for all eternity.
Valicielo swallowed so hard that his Adams apple dipped almost to his waist.
There you are, you wretched little nancy boy. Now sod off and go tidy up your plastic zoo, will you?
Mr. Valicielo opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again and stomped back to his house.
Ridiculous, Flynn muttered, and turned around, and was startled by the sight of Rachel standing on the porch wrapped in her lavender shawl, her arms tightly around her, looking at him. Staring emptily, ratherhe instantly noticed the spark in her eyes was gone. Her gorgeous eyes had been replaced by eyes that were lifeless and dull.
Flynn forced a smile. Rachel, he said, walking toward her. I wasnt certain youd speak to me.
She said nothing, just kept staring at him with those wretched eyes. She looked drawn; there were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was wound in some sort of haphazard knot and secured with a pencil. She didnt seem to be the same Rachel, and it pained him.
Flynn stopped on the bottom step of the porch. Its ah its rather hard to know where to begin.
Then dont, she said. I dont want to talk to you.
I gathered as much, he said, putting his hands on his hips. But I rather hoped youd at least give me a chance to explain everything.
She gave a strange bark of laughter that sounded like a wounded dog. I dont need you to tell me what happened , she said. I know what happened . You used me. You suspected me of being part of some horrid insurance scam and you cozied up to me just so you could find out what Myron was doing, she said, her tone bitter. Even worse, a tear slipped from one eye.
That, he couldnt abide, and Flynn moved without thinking, but Rachel instantly shot up an arm. I dont want you near me, she breathed. And I dont want you to pretend that what you did doesnt matter, that you were on the side of good, or something asinine like that, she said, her voice shaking. Ive thought about this a lot, Flynn. I hate what Myron did to me! He betrayed me in the worst way, lying and stealing and using me! But that doesnt hurt nearly as much as your lies. And I know you will argue you had to do it, that it was your job, but I dont care! You lied to me, you used me, you played me for a fool and it hurts because I loved you! Your lies cut so deep that I keep thinking Im going to bleed to death.
A rash of tears erupted from her eyes, and Rachel gulped down a sob, pulled her shawl more tightly about her. I really loved you, Flynn. And that makes your cut the deepest.
Christ in heaven . He walked up the steps, reached out and touched her face, but Rachel recoiled, turning her head. Rachel, he said desperately. I love you, too , Rachel, thats just it, thats why I came here
I dont believe you! I cant believe anything between us was real! That night I told you I was falling in love with you, you might as well have crawled under a table! And there was always something you were going to tell me. Were you going to tell me there was another woman? Did you lie about that, too?
The question, flung out of the blue, startled him so badly that Flynn hesitated, if only for a fraction of a second, but in that fraction of a second, Rachel turned her back to him, walked to the door, and yanked it open. I dont ever want to speak to you again, I dont ever want to see you againI just want the whole nightmare to go away, she said, and walked through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Flynn stood on the lawn, his jaw aching with the clench of it.
All right. She was frightfully angry. He had no choice but to give her time to cool off. Hed be in the States a few more weeks, tracking down the last items. And as he hadnt the least bloody idea what to do, he turned away, lost in thought, walked to his car in the drive.
But he sat behind the wheel of that car, emotionally and mentally exhausted. Rachel was hurt, all right. But he felt himself sitting on the edge of a dreadful turmoil, bubbling up beneath the silence that had filled his heart and his mind since Hilton Head, a turmoil that was ready to break the surface and completely demoralize him.
But he could see Rachel at the upstairs window, staring down at him, her expression carved from stone.
Flynn made himself drive.
At the Corporate Suites, he grabbed his coat from the car and walked from the parking lot into the lobby and waved at the desk clerk. Ah, Mr. Flynn! the young man called as Flynn punched the button. I got a message for you.
Thats quite all rightIll pick it up later, he said, and stepped into the lift, smiled thinly as the clerk tried to speak while the lift doors were shutting, and fell against the wall, waiting for the interminable ride up to the fifth floor.
On the fifth floor, he exited the lift, walked slowly down the hallway to his flat and thought, strangely enough, that he could hear a telly blaring in his flat. As he haltingly neared the door, he was certain he did, and wondered if hed left it on all day. With a shrug, he unlocked the door, pushed it open, and walked in.
Flynn, darling! his mother cried happily, startling him out of his wits. We thought youd never return! she said as she hurried to embrace him. She threw her arms around him, went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then stood back, smiling. Oh dear, you look absolutely knackered , she exclaimed.
Mum, what are you doing here? he asked.
You missed the Farmington Fall gala, you know, she said. Your cousins were quite distraught.
Wheres Dad? I cant believe hed let you bring him all this way without some sort of protest.