Chapter 20
TWENTY
The three of us sat stunned for a long moment.
“Murder?” I finally repeated. Then the questions came fast. “Who? When? How? Why?”
Anton shook his head. “I don’t know the details, but my mother…
she said that she thinks someone on the inside is working against us—God, I swear, I mean against them—this weekend.
” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset.
“She said that one of the primary buyers on the black market sent her some kind of warning about a person in our family’s organization offering a piece at a discount to work directly with them, said something about taking down the Swansons from the inside this weekend.
The buyer didn’t like the idea, thought something sounded fishy, so he contacted my mother. ”
I tried to wrap my mind around this claim. Someone inside the Swansons’ art heist business was trying to break off, to do their own thing, to take money for themselves.
Anton continued to grip Lacy’s hand as he spoke. Buyer, black market, warning, taking down—these were not the words I’d expected to hear this weekend.
“If we’re dealing with the black market, does that we are in danger?” I asked.
Anton simply stared at me before swallowing hard and answering, “I assume anyone who gets in the way of the person who wants to sell the painting could be considered a problem.” He took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts.
“Do you know exactly who here this weekend is involved in your family’s business?” Charlie asked.
Anton lifted his shoulder. “They haven’t given me names, but I would suspect all of them.”
“I think I can narrow it down,” I said, beginning to list people on my fingers.
“We know Bella Rivera took a painting from this very room, and we strongly suspect that the priest isn’t actually a priest. He also somehow knows Will Hurt.
Anton’s mother and father are the ringleaders, but Charlotte Swanson seems to have some kind of heavy sway and she seems to know Will too—not to mention that Myrtis loves to gossip about the vagaries of the family business.
” I lifted my hands. “That’s at least seven people who are likely involved. ”
“Sounds like you know my family better than I ever have.” Anton stared at me, dumbfounded. “Speaking of which… I forgot about this.” He pulled out his phone, opened his camera, and passed it to Charlie.
Looking over his shoulder, I could see photos of a series of scrawled messages on torn paper, all in the same handwriting.
Take the Perry during the festivities, but watch your back.
Keep an eye on the sheriff. He’ll be around.
The gun is in your bag. Wait until the right time.
I’ll give the cue during the ceremony.
When you hear from me, pull the trigger.
“Who wrote these?” I asked.
“Mother found them in her boyfriend’s… ugh, I hate using that word,” Anton said, interrupting himself before regaining his footing. “They were in Todd Anderson’s things. She found them when she was in his room waiting for him to finish getting ready.”
I took the phone and studied the images myself.
“The Mob, the mafia, all of them at one time or another have been involved in art theft,” Charlie told us.
“Sometimes it’s one major piece—they get in, they get out.
Other times, it’s like an entire arm of their crime ring.
Because of the supplies, planning, and coordination necessary for this kind of theft—and later, the sale of such pieces—you often need connections that run deep.
Organized crime syndicates can provide those.
” He paused. “Not that I think anyone here’s mobbed up,” he added quickly.
“Just saying—it takes serious resources.”
I handed Anton his phone. “Is your family part of the Mob?”
“I don’t think so, but then they are full of surprises this weekend.” Anton hung his head, ashamed.
It was as if the wedding festivities had been a kind of pressure cooker for the Swanson family, and the situation had just happened to bring out the very worst in them.
It was probably a stretch, but it almost felt like someone on the inside was moving between criminal worlds—between the Swansons’ small-town, under-the-radar thieving, and the big boys who were considerably more dangerous.
“Can you text me the images of those notes?” Charlie asked. “And thank you for coming to me with all of this.”
“I didn’t have much choice.” Anton sighed. “Not that I wouldn’t have anyway, but now that I’ve brought all of this mess here, I just want to make sure Lacy—and everyone else—is safe.”
I caught Charlie’s eye. “You can’t move forward with questioning until we know more, right? It could interfere with possibly catching the bigger criminal—whoever is sending these notes, and directing everything behind the scenes.”
“It could also put people in unnecessary danger,” Charlie said, as he checked his watch. “We’ve got another thirty-four hours or so until the ceremony, which isn’t much time for us to investigate, but it will be enough time to contact the FBI and get them out here.”
“No. Please,” Anton said, his eyes plaintive.
“We’re talking about a sophisticated crime ring,” Charlie said. “I can’t just overlook that.”
Anton beat a rapid staccato against his leg and bit his lip as he thought. “Give us that thirty-four hours. Then you can have them swarm the headquarters back in Texas, and I’ll tell the FBI everything I know. They won’t find much evidence at The Rose anyway.”
“Impossible,” Charlie responded, his voice firm. “Someone appears to be planning a shoot-out at your wedding. We need to act now.”
“Just wait,” Anton said, putting out a hand as he began to pace, putting pieces together. “If you move in now, we will be letting a violent member of my very own family slink away into the shadows.”
I caught on to Anton’s logic. He made a good point.
“If we wait until the ceremony,” Anton added, “then we’ll have a controlled environment where we can catch the killer in the act.”
I paused, studying Anton and then Charlie, who was listening carefully. “Anton’s right. If we move in too early, the real murderer will likely escape.”
Charlie considered the idea. “I’m still making a call, but yeah, I can direct them to Swanson instead of here.”
Anton gave a curt nod as his jaw clenched. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to protect himself, his family, or Lacy. Probably all of the above.
“So what do we do here in the meantime?” Lacy asked, clearly horrified by the idea of doing nothing.
“Act normally,” Charlie answered.
“If that’s even possible,” I clarified. After all, we weren’t professionals at catching criminals—and I’d have preferred that neither my friend nor I were a sitting duck.
“We all need to sleep in order to think straight,” Charlie said. “Why don’t you three go back to your rooms, try to rest, and let me consult with the professionals about next steps? I have a feeling that not much else will happen until the actual day of the wedding.”
It was early Saturday morning now. Even if we managed to get in five or six hours of sleep, we’d be waking around noon.
Surely by then, Charlie would have some answers.
Maybe we would figure out how Will Hurt was involved in this mess.
Maybe we would find out who’d been sending notes to the priest—and what exactly this person wanted him to do.
As to that, I really hoped it was only stealing a piece of art, and not murdering in cold blood.
It was a long walk back to our rooms, and when Lacy and I arrived at the door to our guest suite, Charlie entered first, hand on his holster while he scoured the space, ensuring that no one was inside.
Once he was certain the room was clear, he planted a kiss on my forehead and gave me a look that said he would do everything possible to make this all go away as soon as possible.
I knew he wouldn’t sleep and that thought was comforting, even as I was concerned for him.
Anton considered staying behind with us, but Charlie reminded him that we needed to operate as normally as possible.
“That’s the safest way to behave right now,” Charlie reminded us.
“As if none of this is happening?” Lacy asked, for clarification.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Charlie met her eyes. “The less you know, the safer you are. Any criminal activity usually stays among criminals—unless bystanders get in the way.”
Lacy obviously didn’t like the answer, but she trusted Charlie. I did too.
The two men left us alone. Almost immediately, we crawled under the comforters in our separate beds, facing each other, our expressions mirrors of fear and uncertainty.
“My wedding wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Lacy whispered into the room, low-lit by the rising sunbeams streaming through the windows.
“I know,” I whispered back.
As the moon completely faded from the sky and the sun rose on the horizon, we fell into oblivion for a few blessed hours.