Chapter 7
Devyn glanced around Janice Willoughby’s studio apartment, relieved she’d been allowed inside so easily. The young woman had been unable to hide her surprise or the brief wariness that followed, but Devyn quickly put her at ease.
She’d learned much from Marlene through the years, including how to read people and reflect what they most wanted to hear.
A quick internet search had given her enough background on Janice’s undergraduate education, including the fact that she was the daughter of a professor. Once she had a few key details, Devyn was able to craft enough of a backstory to get in the door.
With part of her mind on the topic of art history, she wondered where the Sorenson was hiding. And how she might recover it for Marlene.
So far nothing about the young doctorate student screamed thief, and yet everything inside Devyn told her the painting was here. The source of her psychic gifts assured her she needed to stay here as long as possible to ensure Marlene didn’t suffer an irreversible loss.
A bit reserved at first, as soon as Devyn asked her about her thesis, Janice warmed up and chatted openly.
Devyn was confident that if she could steer Janice toward the topics of restoration or impressionism, she might find the clue she needed to recover the Sorenson outright.
Unfortunately, a knock on the door interrupted her progress.
“I’m so sorry,” Janice said, rising from the small table. “I never get company.”
Devyn smiled. Either the younger woman was an excellent actress, or she was confident she would get away with the theft. “No worries. I have plenty of time,” she said.
The door opened and Devyn knew who was on the other side by the abrupt tension snapping across Janice’s shoulders. Detective Hoffman’s voice solidified it.
“Janice Willoughby?”
“That’s right.”
“Chicago P.D. Detectives Hoffman and Laurier,” she said. “May we have a word?”
“Can it wait? I-I have company.”
“We’ll only be a minute,” Hoffman said too easily.
Hearing the stammer, Devyn almost smiled. The police were here. One of Marlene’s precious treasures would be saved. But her spark of relief was tempered as soon as Cade crossed the threshold.
Seeing her, he glared.
His reaction didn’t surprise her, but the sting she felt did. It left her exposed and uncertain, despite being the only one in the room who knew.
Why did it bother her? She didn’t need him to like her. His respect—no matter how grudgingly given—should be enough.
“Of course you’re here.” Cade stared her down. “Please step outside, Ms. Norris.”
“What? No,” Janice protested. “She’s my guest.” Her gaze darted from one detective to the other and back again. “My mother’s friend.”
Cade snorted as Hoffman handed over the warrant. “We’re here to conduct a search.”
“For what?”
Devyn slowly gathered her phone and purse. The young woman had some acting skills. That could complicate matters. “We’ll talk another time,” she offered innocently.
Cade got in her way at the door. “Wait outside, Ms. Norris. Please.”
Devyn only went so far as the doorway, forcing him to keep it open. She wanted to see when the painting was recovered.
“How do you know her? What is going on?”
“The warrant,” Hoffman began. “It allows us to search the premises as well as your vehicle for the painting that is missing from the college museum where you’ve been working.”
“If you’ll step back.” Cade gestured toward the kitchen that ran along one short wall. “Let us take a look around.”
“You don’t need to search,” Janice said. “It’s over there.” She pointed to a privacy screen blocking the end of the apartment Devyn assumed served as her bedroom. “On the easel.”
“Is anyone else here?” Hoffman asked.
“Just the two of us,” Devyn offered, earning another glare from Cade and a nod from Hoffman. Cautiously, Hoffman moved in that direction, one hand on her weapon. She cleared the space behind the screen, then shoved it aside.
For a moment, all four of them stared. Janice had placed the Sorenson on one easel and beside it, another canvas was prepped, with only the first sweep of color.
Cade pulled handcuffs from his belt. “Janice Willoughby, you are under arrest for the theft of this painting.” He continued to explain her rights over her protests.
With Cade distracted, Devyn stepped in and closed the door. She wanted to hear everything. Hoffman was making a call, reporting the find.
“I didn’t steal it,” Janice said again when Cade fell silent. “I didn’t!”
“Then why is it here instead of in proper storage?” Hoffman asked.
“Professor Garvey,” Janice replied. “He told me about the Monet in storage at the museum. He assigned me to paint a replica for his class. I only have two weeks.” Tears filled her eyes. “I couldn’t do it in that timeframe at the museum. The light in the basement is atrocious.”
“That’s not a Monet,” Hoffman said.
“What? It’s fake?” Willoughby stared at the Sorenson. “No way.”
“Way.” Cade, holding her elbow, led her closer. “Didn’t you notice the signature?”
“It’s blocked by the frame,” she complained. “But yes, taking a hard look, I can see the upper strokes aren’t quite right.”
“Sorenson or Monet, it’s grand theft.”
“It can’t be,” Janice said. “I had permission.”
Devyn stepped up. “When is Professor Garvey coming by?”
The detectives aimed hard looks at her, apparently having forgotten she was here.
“Tonight,” Janice replied. “To talk.” It seemed to dawn on her that Garvey might be coming by to take the painting. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” Garvey was the shadowy piece that hadn’t snapped into place until now. “He used you, Janice.” Sympathy washed through Devyn. Through the detectives too, she guessed.
“So take it,” Janice pleaded. She lurched away from Cade, staggering toward Hoffman. “I’m sorry. He told me he’d cleared everything.”
The two women spoke quietly, both of them focused on the easels.
“She’s not a co-conspirator,” Devyn murmured to Cade.
“Probably not,” he allowed. “Still have to work the case.”
“Don’t let Garvey get away with manipulating her.”
“We’ll work the case,” he repeated. “I hope we won’t see you at Garvey’s house next.”
“No need for that. You’re on the right track and the painting is safe.”
Cade folded his arms over his chest. “For a woman who lives in another state, you’re in my town quite a bit.”
“My friend was ill.” She appreciated the flare of concern in his eyes.
“A lingering cold, that’s all. I came up to check on her and during my visit, she had a, um.
..” Might as well just say it. “She had a vision that the painting was in danger.” She ignored Cade’s eyeroll.
“She asked me to get involved. And here we are.”
“Why didn’t you know about Garvey?”
Of course he wanted more details. “I’m not a machine, detective.” A machine wouldn’t be so relieved to have succeeded.
“No, you’re a counselor.”
“Among other things,” she agreed patiently.
“Look at you two getting along,” Hoffman said. “I’m taking Janice in. Has to be done,” she added when the younger woman sniffled.
“You’re in good hands,” Devyn assured her. “Cooperate. You can count on Detective Hoffman.”
“Thanks.” Hoffman beamed. “I’ll let the two of you get that painting back where it belongs.”
“It’s evidence,” Cade pointed out. “We need to take it in as evidence.”
Hoffman’s gaze darted to Devyn and back to him. “Show some compassion, Laurier. You can drive by Marlene’s place and give her a minute to see her mom’s famous work is safe.”
“She would appreciate that,” Devyn said.
“I’ll make the calls.” Cade sighed.
“W-will she let the museum keep it?” Janice asked. “I didn’t mean to wreck everything.”
Devyn patted the student’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll think it over. For decades, it’s been safer at the museum—between climate-controlled storage and security systems—than it would be in her home.”
“Home security systems have come a long way,” Cade said. “I can give her some advice on the best options, if you want.”
Devyn’s eyes softened, her heart too. “You mean that.”
He nodded. “I say what I mean.”
“Yes. I’ve noticed.” She frequently had to make an effort to not be offended by his candor.
“An evidence room is secure, but it won’t do the painting any favors,” Hoffman grumbled.
“Why don’t you take Janice in, Laurier.” Hoffman smiled at Devyn.
“I’ve got a better relationship with the state’s attorney right now,” she explained.
“Maybe I can pull some strings for Marlene. Give me a minute.” She moved away from the door to make the call.
Cade didn’t walk Janice out right away. “If there’s anything that can be done to protect that painting, she’ll do it,” he said to Devyn.
Her stomach fluttered. When the man was kind, she had a harder time keeping her thoughts straight. “Thanks. To you and Detective Hoffman.” She looked from him to Janice and back again. “Is there any way to keep my name out of the report?”
“Probably not.”
She accepted that with as much grace as possible. It was clear he’d leave out her name if he could. But he wouldn’t lie and put the investigation in jeopardy.
“Devyn?” Janice aimed a pleading look at Devyn. “You don’t have to press charges.”
“Not up to her,” Cade said, reaching for the door. “Charges are up to the state’s attorney and the victims. In this case, that’s the college museum as well as the rightful owner of this painting.”
Janice’s shoulders sagged and she seemed to shrink in on herself, fear filling her eyes. Devyn felt sorry for her, but there was nothing she could do.
Cade ushered Janice into the hallway and Devyn started to follow, but Hoffman asked her to wait. “It’s all set, Devyn. We’ll log the Sorensen into evidence, but it will be held at the museum under proper care to protect the painting.”
“Proper care and additional security?” Devyn asked.
“Yes, for sure.” Hoffman smiled.
“Thank you.” On impulse, Devyn hugged the slender detective.
“You’re welcome.” Hoffman stepped back and planted her hands on her hips. “It was easy really. Just had to remind the powers that be what it was worth and the claim the Sorenson heirs could file if we screwed up.”
“Is that all?”
Hoffman preened. “We’re here to serve and protect, right?”
Devyn smiled. “Marlene will be thrilled. You should probably expect a gift basket.”
“I’ll look for it,” Hoffman said. “Of course, if she wants to share winning lottery numbers, that’s fine too.”
Devyn laughed. “You looked her up?”
Hoffman shrugged.
“I’ll let her know she has options,” Devyn promised.
Once the painting was returned to the museum, she and Marlene would celebrate the recovery. Tomorrow, Devyn could get home and back to the work she enjoyed most: the day-to-day connection with her counseling clients.
“Think you’ll open up a new service?” Hoffman queried.
“Searching for lost art? Not a chance.” Devyn marveled at how easy it was to discuss her talents with a person who believed.
Talk about a precious gift. “For me, I see people far more clearly than objects.” In fact, she was sure her success here was more about tracing Marlene’s emotional connections than Devyn’s specific skillset.
“And the occasional search and rescue for people is more than enough adrenaline for me.”
“Fair enough,” Hoffman said. “But if there’s more trouble in Chicago, you can always reach out to me. You’ve got a friend in the CPD.”
“Not Cade?” That should not be disappointing.
“Oh, him too.” Hoffman flashed a grin. “Just don’t bother being subtle next time.”
“Noted. Thank you.”
A lightness flowed over Devyn. Friendship, she realized. It didn’t happen often, due to an abundance of caution. Still, new and fresh, making a friend was a wonderful balm to the soul.
***
Thank you for reading NO ARTFUL REFUSAL!