Chapter 5
Morgan’s mind whirled. “The police are coming here to Easton Harbor Art Gallery to investigate?”
“They were leaving the mainland when I took the call,” Grady said. “It was about fifteen minutes ago.”
Morgan did a rough mental calculation. “Which means they’ll be here soon.”
“That would be my guess.”
“I’ll give Elizabeth a call to let her know.” Quinn left to track down her cell phone.
Grady waited until she was gone. “I’m sorry, Morgan.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I appreciate you warning us.”
“Do you want me to hang around?”
“No. I don’t think it will be necessary.”
He tapped the top of his radio. “I’ll keep an ear out in case you need me to come back by.”
“I appreciate it.” Morgan absentmindedly watched Grady make his way out of the gallery.
Quinn returned. “Elizabeth and Gerard are on their way.”
“Gerard is a retired Sotheby’s art dealer. It might be good to have him here.” Morgan paced, waiting for her grandmother, praying she showed up before the investigators did.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Burnie careening into an empty parking spot right next to her SUV. The couple hopped out and hurried inside. “No sign of the authorities?”
“Not yet, although according to Grady, they should be here any minute.”
“I knew Mr. Ryze was trouble,” Elizabeth fumed. “The more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to suspect he may have swapped out the original I sold him and is trying to pull a fast one.”
Quinn blinked rapidly. “I-I never would have thought of that, but you could be right. What about Marti…the gallery owner who loaned us the piece on consignment?”
“I spoke to her yesterday. She assured me she purchased it from a reputable gallery in Detroit and swears the artwork is authentic.”
“I see a car pulling up out front,” Gerard said.
The group grew quiet, watching as two men wearing dark suits exited a black sedan and made their way to the door.
They stepped inside and approached the counter. The one on the right, the taller of the two, flashed a badge. “I’m Investigator Curren with the RCMP. We’re here to speak with the owner. I believe her name is Elizabeth Easton.”
Elizabeth stepped forward. “I’m Elizabeth Easton.”
“We’ve received information from a man who purchased a piece of artwork from you last week. He claims the piece in question is fake.”
“Mr. Ryze. I gave him the papers at the time of purchase. It was in my gallery on consignment. The gallery we got it from assures me it’s authentic.”
“He also claims you refused to refund his money,” the second officer said. “The RCMP takes fraudulent activity seriously. We would like to review your records and see a copy of this transaction.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth led the men to the office in the back.
Morgan waited until they were gone. “I think Grandmother might be onto something about him swapping out the real deal for a fake to pull a fast one.”
“Mr. Ryze.” Gerard repeated his name. “His name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Maybe he’s tried ripping off other art galleries in the past.”
“I think the next move is to be proactive. I have friends in the art world and can make a few phone calls,” Gerard said. “What’s his full name?”
“I can print off a copy of his receipt.” Quinn hurried over to the computer and tapped the keyboard. The printer behind her whirred and spit out a single sheet of paper. She glanced at it before handing it to Gerard. “Here’s his information.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
Morgan watched Gerard step out of the gallery, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. “I think this Ryze guy is trouble.”
“It’s possible he recognized the Easton name.” Quinn rubbed her thumb against her index fingers. “He made a fake and is trying to squeeze big bucks out of Elizabeth and the gallery.”
“If so, I hope he’s caught.”
Gerard returned. “I don’t have all the information yet and would hate to jump the gun, but it appears there’s more to Mr. Ryze than meets the eye. I’m waiting for a call back.”
Elizabeth and the investigators returned. She escorted them to the front door, promising them her full cooperation before they left.
She made her way back to where Morgan, Gerard, and Quinn had gathered, noting the glum expression mirrored on each of their faces. “What did I miss?”
“I thought Mr. Ryze…Mr. Edward Ryze’s name sounded familiar.” Gerard filled Elizabeth in on what he’d discovered. “I don’t have all the details yet. My former colleague is looking into it. Hence, the reason I didn’t mention it while the investigators were still here.”
Gerard’s cell phone rang. “That’s him now. He’s calling back.” He strode out of the building and began pacing in front of the window while the women quietly waited.
Finally, he stepped back inside. “I was correct. I recognized Ryze’s name.”
“And?” Morgan prompted.
“At the risk of sounding crude, the man is a snake.”
“Great,” Quinn groaned. “Snake, as in trying to convince us he purchased a fake piece of art to collect big bucks?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately. A friend of mine, a dealer at a topnotch gallery in Toronto, crossed paths with Ryze earlier this year. He made a similar claim using the same strategy.”
“Which was?” Morgan asked.
“Contacting the authorities.”
“What happened? I mean, I’m sure your friend figured out what the guy was doing.”
“He settled with Ryze so he would go away.”
Morgan frowned. “He caved to his demands? I’m sure Ryze is thinking if it worked once, it will work a second time.”
“Unfortunately, Ryze may resort to some…shall we say…underhanded tactics?”
“Underhanded tactics?” Morgan’s scalp tingled. The man clearly made calculated moves. Purchase artwork and then return it, claiming fraud.
“Perhaps it would be best if I showed you.” Gerard motioned to the desktop computer. “May I?”
Quinn stepped aside. “Be my guest.”
Morgan darted around the desk, watching as Gerard opened a new search screen. He typed “ Toronto Renaissance Art Gallery” in the search bar. Several stories popped up.
He clicked on the one at the top. “I believe this sums up the events of what happened to my friend.”
Elizabeth leaned in, her eyes scanning the headline. “Toronto Renaissance Art Gallery embroiled in a fake artwork scheme.”
Morgan felt lightheaded. The customer was referenced as “Mr. R.” The story sounded the same. He purchased a high-end work of art, eventually returning to the gallery, claiming it was fake.
“This is awful,” she whispered. “He sounds like a horrible man.”
“A crook and a swindler,” Quinn added.
“Unfortunately, I believe what happened to him may be in store for Easton Harbor Art Gallery,” Gerard grimly replied.