Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
With both Gage and me frozen in shock and unable to function, Jack ran over to check Chloe’s vital signs.
“She’s not dead,” he said gently. “She has a big bump on her head and a bleeding cut on her temple.” He looked up at me. “Breathe, Simi. She’ll be okay. Someone hit her over the head and knocked her out. Look at her chest. It’s rising and falling.”
“I can’t…” I looked away and my vision blurred. “I can’t see her like that.”
“You need to see her breathing, so you know for yourself.” He grabbed Gage’s shoulder. “C’mon, bud. She’s okay, but we need to call an ambulance.”
I forced myself to look back and saw Chloe’s chest rise and fall, although her face was so white and her body so still, it took me a few long moments to shake the sense of panic.
Gage, on the other hand, was not okay. Let’s just say even the strongest man can be overcome with emotion.
I stroked my bestie’s cheek as I called 911. Jack was at the door to ensure no one else came inside.
“Someone needs to check the museum,” I said. “Although I’m pretty sure by now they’ve gotten away. Who kills someone at a celebration of life? It seems unnecessarily cruel.”
Jack looked back over his shoulder. “I don’t think someone who slits a dude’s throat, chops off his finger, and ruins a multimillion-dollar car cares about people’s feelings.”
“I need to let Olivia know. And the rest of the crew. I have a feeling the police won’t want anyone to leave, so I also need to talk to Vera’s security team.” Although it was the last thing I wanted to do, I forced myself to stand, leaving Chloe with Gage. Olivia was my goddaughter. This was my event. I had responsibilities. Someone had to take control and it had to be me.
“Gage…” He still had Chloe’s head in his lap, his big hand wrapped around her limp one.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Gage said. “Fuck the heist. Fuck the mob. Fuck Cristian. Fuck rich people and Bugattis and diamonds and missing treasures.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” I said. “I don’t want her to be alone.”
Jack came with me as I did the rounds. I stopped by Emma’s car to let Olivia know there had been an accident and the ambulance was coming for her mom. I let Vera know that Peter was, indeed, gone, and I asked her security team to keep people on-site until the police arrived and took charge of the scene. One of them checked the security system and confirmed that all the cameras and sensors had been turned off. I messaged the rest of the crew to tell them what had happened and asked them to circulate and keep their eyes open for suspicious behavior.
“We should check out the bunker,” Jack said quietly. “If something is missing, it will become part of the crime scene and we’ll lose access.”
“I’ll let the crew know where we are so they can warn us when the police arrive.”
We quickly made our way downstairs. Of course, the panic room was open, and the mirror door to the bunker was ajar, with a bloody fingerprint on the biometric panel on the wall.
We ran through the bunker toward the museum, stopping briefly in front of the closed vault door.
“Why didn’t they break into the vault?” I studied the large metal door and the untouched biometric panel beside it. “Vera told us that the paintings she had in there were priceless.”
“It’s got extra layers of security,” Jack said. “That’s a bank-level vault with both retinal and biometric scanners as well as a ten-digit lock code. It would take a professional hours to crack that safe and they would need some high-tech, specialized equipment, a finger, and an eyeball.”
We made our way to the museum. As I’d feared, the double doors were wide open, and everything was gone save for the empty display cases, the marble pillars, and the bare hooks on the walls.
“They took everything.” I stared in stunned disbelief. “Even the boxes and packing crates that were going to be used for shipping. Why would they take everything if they just wanted the diamond? Except for the erotic art, Vera said it was all fake.”
“The bigger question is how did they get it all out?”
“They would have had to use the escape tunnel,” I said. “There is no way they could have carried everything up the stairs and through the house without someone seeing them. But how did they get downstairs in the first place? Between you, Gage, and Vera’s security team, the entire area was being watched.”
“Gage and I were distracted for around ten minutes when someone knocked over one of the flaming desserts and started a kitchen fire,” Jack said. “It spread everywhere. We managed to put it out, but that would have given them a window to get down the stairs.”
We walked through the bunker, searching for a painting large enough to conceal the tunnel door.
“This must be it.” I stopped in front of a six-foot painting of a woman standing in front of a cauldron with a stick in her hand, all grays and browns save for the fire under the pot. “It’s pretty gloomy.”
“It’s The Magic Circle by John William Waterhouse,” Jack said. “It was painted in 1886. It’s worth close to half a million dollars, which isn’t gloomy at all.”
“Sometimes I forget you’re an art expert and not just an ordinary thief.” I pulled on the frame and the painting swung to the side. Behind it, a steel door opened into a tunnel and there was another bloody print on the biometric panel beside it.
Although hewn out of rock, the tunnel had been carefully crafted with smooth surfaces and carved edges. Motion-activated lights flickered on as we walked, filling the eight-foot-high space with an orange glow. Despite the fact the door had been open, a musty smell filled my nostrils. “I don’t think this tunnel was ever used until today.”
“And yet, there isn’t any dust.” Jack bent down to inspect the polished wood floor.
“There had to be at least two people involved,” I said as he squatted and pulled out his phone. “There wouldn’t have been enough time for just one person to pull this off.”
“They dragged the boxes.” Jack pointed to the long scuffs and scrapes leading down the tunnel, clearly visible under his phone light.
“That makes sense. Some of those fertility statues were made of stone. They would have been very heavy. Maybe the nephew wasn’t the only criminal in the family.”
“This was definitely a professional job,” Jack said. “They deactivated the entire security system, evaded two security teams, and they knew they would need Peter’s finger to open the biometric locks.”
“You’re missing the part where they were prepared to kill Peter to get his finger.” I unlocked the steel exit door at the end of the tunnel and pushed it open. I had expected something fancy, but it looked like an ordinary door save for the fact that it was at least ten inches thick. “Do professional thieves slit people’s throats?” I paused on the threshold. “Have you killed anyone, Jack?”
“This isn’t the time,” he said brusquely.
“Is that a ‘yes’?” I stared at him, aghast. “You killed someone?”
“It’s not that simple.”
It seemed simple to me, and I added it to my list of things I didn’t know about Jack that he was going to have to explain.
I stepped into the alley, blinking while my eyes acclimated to the bright light. “Where are we?”
“West edge of the property. They got special permission to build the tunnel to the alley.” He bent down and studied the dirt. “There are tire tracks here from a large vehicle—likely some kind of moving van or truck. If this is how they transported the goods, they have a big head start. We’ll need to ask around the neighborhood. Maybe someone saw something.”
“I’ll get the rest of the team on it.” I pulled out my phone, hesitating. “I could also call Garcia. Serious thefts are his thing. Once the police find out the contents of the museum have been stolen, he’ll be looped in anyway. He’ll be able to track them faster than us.”
“He’ll also confiscate the contents of the truck if he finds it first,” Jack warned. “It will be almost impossible to get to the diamond if it’s in police custody.”
“At least we’ll know where it is.” I sent the messages and made the call to Garcia. Judging by the tone of his voice, he wasn’t happy to hear that I was at another crime scene.
Simone met us at the top of the stairs. Her hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, and she appeared flustered. “I went straight to see Vera after I got your message. I can’t believe it. Poor Peter.”
I gave her a quick update about what we’d found, including the more gruesome details about Peter’s death, and assured her Chloe was going to be okay.
“Oh my.” Simone waved a hand in front of her face. “I feel like I’m in a game of Clue. Mystery person in the garage with a knife…”
“Simone…”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what to say. It’s just so terrible.”
“Do you mean the part where Peter was murdered in his Bugatti? The part where someone cut off his finger? Or the part where the diamond we were supposed to steal was stolen by someone who had not only the finger, but also the skills to override the rest of the security system and clear out the museum while we were all standing right here?”
“All the parts.” She smoothed down her hair, patting it into place. “What are we going to do?”
I had no idea what we were going to do. My mind was racing with a hundred things at once. I still had to deal with all my contractors, who were waiting to go home. I had to make sure that my crew didn’t give anything away during police questioning. I had to make sure Chloe was okay. I had to find the truck with the stolen treasures. And we were running out of time.
“You look surprised,” I said to Garcia when he walked into Vera’s kitchen, where I was impatiently waiting for my turn to talk to the homicide detective in charge of the case. Gage and Olivia had gone to the hospital in the ambulance with Chloe. Jack, Clare, and her team had disappeared as soon as the police arrived. Apparently, they didn’t “do” police. I’d sent Anil and Emma back to the warehouse with our heist supplies after the police had taken their statements. Simone had insisted on staying at the house in case Vera needed her and so I wouldn’t be alone.
“I am but I’m not,” he said. “You seem to be attracted to crime scenes like a bee to honey. I hoped we’d stop meeting like this, but it seems you just can’t stay out of trouble.”
“I’m an event coordinator. I’m in a lot of places at a lot of times. Vera hired me for her nephew’s celebration of life. That’s why I’m here.”
“Trust you to organize a funeral where someone gets murdered,” he said dryly.
“I didn’t plan it,” I said. “Murder doesn’t fit in with my circus theme.”
Garcia shook his head. “I talked to Detective Johnson. He briefed me about the death in the Bugatti and the theft of some artwork. Did you have a chance to speak to Vera? By the time he arrived, she’d already taken a sedative and her assistant said she won’t be available to talk to anyone until tomorrow morning.”
“I was with her,” Simone said. “She was in shock. She didn’t say anything about who could have murdered poor Peter, but he was not well liked in our circle. He was very charming, but a bit of a rogue, with a fondness for younger women and utterly no discretion. He was obsessed with his treasure-hunting hobby. When he did join her at social events, it was to solicit donations to fund his travels or offer dubious business opportunities connected with his archeological digs.”
“That’s very helpful.” Garcia pulled out his notebook and made a few notes. “You’re a friend?”
“Yes, indeed,” Simone said. “When her nephew got shanked in Sing Sing, she called me up, desperate for Simi’s number. She and Peter were about to set sail for their private island, and she needed someone to organize the funeral and celebration of life right away. I’d told her about Simi and how she organized a delightful circus-themed celebration of life for my dear friend Martha, so she wanted to hire her.”
I was worried Simone would get carried away, so I tried to divert the conversation with my theory about the case. “It looks like whoever killed Peter used his finger to get into the bunker and steal everything from the museum. Theft was clearly the motive for the murder.”
“Maybe.” Garcia looked up over his notebook. “Maybe not. Sometimes the obvious explanation isn’t always the right one. Where is the museum?”
“We can take you to it.” Simone and I led Garcia downstairs, stopping at the door to the panic room. “The finger would have been used three times,” I said. “First on the biometric lock to open the panic room, then the bunker, and a third time to access the museum.”
“How do you know everything wasn’t already open?”
“I had a security guy keeping watch downstairs and he said everything was locked. Also, there’s blood below all the biometric sensor panels.” I pointed to a smear on the wall. “I can’t imagine why else it would be there.”
“Hmmm.”
I didn’t like the way Garcia said, “Hmmm,” as if there were other possible explanations for the reason the thieves had cut off Peter’s finger. Time was ticking and the thieves were driving, and I needed him to come to the right conclusion so he would check any CCTV cameras in the area and tell me whether our theory about the thieves loading the stolen artwork onto a truck in the back alley was right, and if so, where that truck might be.
We stopped at the entrance to the bunker and then the museum. Garcia made some notes and called for a forensics team and police officers to secure the area as part of the crime scene.
“Our DNA will be in the museum because Vera took Simone and me to see it when we were planning the event,” I said. “She thought her husband might bring his friends or family down to see his collection of erotic art and treasures and I was concerned about security.”
“Is that what was in here?”
“Yes.” I waved vaguely at the bare walls. “There were lots of paintings of people going at it from back in the day. Over there was a glass case filled with sex toys dating from ancient times up to now. I didn’t even know what some of them were for and I have an excellent imagination.”
“I’m curious why you’re so invested in this robbery.” Garcia seemed as disinterested in the details of Peter’s erotic art collection as he was in my vivid imagination.
I stared at him, trying not to give any of the telltale signs of lying I’d seen in a psychology TikTok. “I feel responsible. This was my event. I had security people circulating and they didn’t see anything.”
“Didn’t Vera have her own security?”
“Yes. Two guards, plus twenty-four-hour camera surveillance, heat and motion detectors throughout the museum, plus the biometric access panels. The thieves must have found a way to bypass everything.”
“I’ll talk to the head of Vera’s security,” he said, moving to leave.
“Aren’t you wondering how they got everything out?” I tried to hide the desperation in my tone. “Vera and Peter have an escape tunnel in case they have to leave the bunker during an apocalypse. It leads to the alley on the west side of the property. That’s got to be how they got everything out without being seen.”
Garcia lifted a bushy eyebrow. “And you know about this tunnel…how?”
“Vera told us about it when she showed us the museum,” Simone blurted out when I went “deer in the headlights,” scrambling to think of a reason why I would know about a secret exit. “She mentioned it was behind a painting.”
“That’s right,” I said. “It’s over here.” I led Garcia through the bunker to the painting.
“Kinda gloomy,” he said.
“It’s The Magic Circle by John William Waterhouse. He painted it in 1886.” I silently thanked Jack for making me sound like I knew what I was talking about.
“I didn’t know you knew art,” Simone said, frowning.
“I have many special skills. Art appreciation is just one of them.”
Garcia shot me a look that could or could not have been disbelief, but he was curiously silent as I led him through the tunnel and out to the alley.
“Oh look!” I bent down where Jack had seen the tire tracks and pretended to study the sand and gravel at the edge of the paved road. “It looks like a large vehicle was parked here. Maybe they loaded the stolen art into a vehicle that they parked in this alley.”
Garcia walked up and down and checked the tire tracks before calling for uniformed officers to canvass the street. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said when he was done. “I know where to find you if I have any more questions.”
“But I want to help,” I protested. “I have some free time now that the event was cut short. Why don’t you let me know if anyone spotted a vehicle in the alley and I can go after it and save you some time?”
“You don’t have a car,” he pointed out.
“My friend drives for Uber. She always gives me a discount.”
“This is police business. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
“We would make a great team,” I insisted. “We could be like all the police shows where the police officer gets help from a quirky consultant: Bones , Lucifer , Castle , The Mentalist , Monk , Elementary , Carter …”
“You watch too much television,” he said, but his lips finally quirked in a smile. “What skills do you bring to the mix? You’re not a criminal psychologist, mystery writer, retired detective / CIA operative, or devil, as far as I know. And you don’t have any special psychic gifts.”
“I have a team of people with special skills,” I said. “You know Chloe is good with computers. My magician is a great with mechanical things and he’s in Mensa. And my fire eater has a PhD in chemistry. My tightrope walker is…um…very flexible and can get into tight spaces. I saw my security guy get stabbed in the shoulder and it didn’t even slow him down. We have a knife thrower who is good at distracting people, and my clown drives an Uber but she’s training for Formula One. She can get us places super-fast. It’s like the traffic doesn’t even exist.”
“Speeding?” His eyes narrowed.
“Of course not,” I said, backtracking quickly. “She is just very efficient.”
“Anyone else on your team I should know about? Maybe somebody who always seems to get you into trouble?” He stared at me intently and my skin prickled in warning. Did he know about Jack’s shadowy past? Somehow I didn’t think he would appreciate Jack’s thieving and lock-picking expertise, his knowledge of the criminal underground, or his association with nefarious individuals.
“Nobody with relevant skills.”
“Hmm.” Garcia gave me a lingering look and then shook his head. “I could never put you at risk, Simi.”
“Please.” I put a hand on his chest and gave him my best pleading expression. “My business is at risk. I could be ruined if Vera sues me. I feel crushed by guilt and the burden of responsibility. I failed her.”
“If anyone failed, it was her own security team.” Garcia’s eyes softened, and he gently moved my hand away. “If I have some information I can share, I’ll give you a call, but I won’t put you in any dangerous situations.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded through me, and I smiled. “You don’t have to worry. I am totally averse to dangerous situations. When I see a dangerous situation, I turn and run.”
“You didn’t run last time,” he pointed out.
“That was an exception.”
He gave me a look of disbelief. “I certainly hope so, Simi. For your sake and mine.”