Stuart Woods - Quick & Dirty

“Which island?”

“Islesboro.”

“I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

“Then when the snow is gone, we’ll go up there together.”

“I’d love that.”

When Stone got home it was nearly six o’clock, and there was a package waiting for him in the front hallway. He set it on the hall table and opened it. The Reclining Nude greeted him with a little smile.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said. “How did you get here so fast?” He took it into the living room, got out the ladder, and cleared away two other paintings, then hung the nude and adjusted the ceiling spotlight to its best advantage. He put away everything, then stepped back and viewed her.

“You are gorgeous!” he said to her.

Stone had just sat down at his desk on Monday morning when Joan buzzed. “Art Masi on one,” she said.

Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Art. Did you get your work done?”

“We went over the place twice with a fine-toothed comb. All we found was a frame of about the right size, which the thief must have discarded. It’s in the hall coat closet.”

“That makes sense. Morgan said he had a canvas bag slung on his back.”

“Something else we found. There’s a back door to a service stairway with a broken mechanism. It couldn’t be locked from either the inside or outside.”

“So that’s how a thief could have gotten in and out, except Morgan says she saw him go over the parapet and rappel down.”

“He’d need a hundred and fifty feet of rope. I suppose he could carry that up the stairs. It would probably weigh fifty pounds or more.”

“Less, if it was something like nylon, and it wouldn’t be more than a quarter of an inch in diameter.”

“You have a point, Stone.”

“I spent the weekend at her house in the Hamptons, and although I had a good look around, I never spotted anything like a good hiding place.”

“The deskman at the building let us have a look around the basement, which is divided into storage areas, all of them padlocked. We checked the furnace room, too, and couldn’t find anything.”

“Maybe you should get a search warrant for the East Hampton house.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Do you have any grounds for a warrant for Angelo Farina’s house?”

“I’m not sure a judge would go for it, but it’s worth a try,” Art said.

“There are so many pictures there that it will take you a day just to get through his studio.”

“I’ll get on it.” Art said goodbye and hung up.

Stone called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“Good morning, Commissioner.”

“Where were you this weekend?”

“At Morgan Tillman’s house in East Hampton, and while I was gone, your art squad got a warrant and searched her apartment for the van Gogh. Twice. He also searched the basement and the furnace room.”

“And what did he find?”

“Zip.”

“Well, she’s had plenty of time to hide it by now.”

“He did find a frame, which a burglar could have discarded.”

“I’ll tell Art to search her East Hampton house.”

“He’s already on it, and Angelo Farina’s house and studio, too, but I’m beginning to get the feeling that we aren’t going to find it there, either.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh, one thing Art did find was a broken lock on a back door leading to a service stairway, a perfect entry for a burglar — the door couldn’t be locked from either side.”

“My nose still tells me,” Dino said.

“Maybe you’d better stop listening to your nose.”

“You like Mrs. Tillman, don’t you.” It was an accusation.

“Yes, I do. You’d like her, too, if you spent a little time in her company. Why don’t we all have dinner this week, and you can find out what Viv’s nose tells her?”

“Her nose will agree with mine.”

“We’ll see. Tomorrow at seven-thirty at Patroon?”

“All right.”

“Tell Viv to bring her nose.” Stone hung up and called Morgan.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“I certainly did. When I got home, Angelo’s gift was waiting for me. It looks wonderful in my living room.”

“Write him a note, he’ll love that. Angelo’s a stickler for the courtesies.”

“I have already done so,” Stone lied, taking a sheet of paper from his desk drawer. “How about dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Bacchetti tomorrow evening?”

“Love to.”

“I’ll pick you up a little after seven.”

“Wonderful. See you then.”

Stone composed a genuinely grateful thank-you note to Angelo Farina. It looks wonderful in my house. Give me a call the next time you’re coming to town, and come for a drink. I’ll show you some of my mother’s work, too. He signed it and gave it to Joan to mail.

Morgan and Viv got on as if they were old school friends, somewhat to Dino’s annoyance. When the women went to the ladies’, Stone said, “Well?”

“All right, Viv likes her,” Dino admitted.

“Could she like a murderer and art thief?”

“She could, if she didn’t know.”

“Surely she knows your theory.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think she buys it. You been talking to Viv?”

“Haven’t seen her since the last time.”

The two women came back from the restroom, and Morgan stopped at another table to visit with some people for a moment.

“That girl wouldn’t kill a fly,” Viv said to Dino, “let alone a husband. And why would she need to steal that painting? She would have inherited it anyway.”

“Touché,” Stone said.

“Oh, shut up,” Dino riposted. “You two are ganging up on me.”

Morgan joined them. “Old friends of Mark’s,” she said, indicating the other table with a nod.

“Why don’t you all come back for a nightcap?” Stone said. “I’ve got something to show you.”

They went back to Stone’s in Dino’s police car; Morgan asked to sit in the front. “May I turn on the siren?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Dino said. “I’d have to cite you under the noise ordinance.”

“Oh, come on, Dino,” Viv said.

“All right, just once.”

The driver pointed out the switch and she hit it, scattering a group of pedestrians crossing the street.

“That was fun,” Morgan said happily.

Stone switched on the living room lights. “My new companion,” he said.

“This can’t be true,” Viv said, clapping her hands together. “You’re not that rich, Stone.”

“You are correct. It’s by a forger, but a very fine one.”

Viv inspected it closely. “I don’t remember her eyes being closed.”

“That’s what makes it a copy instead of a forgery,” Stone explained.

The Bacchettis had their drinks and left Stone and Morgan sitting in his study.

“I love your house,” Morgan said.

“Would you like a tour of the master suite?” Stone asked.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

Later in the week Stone got a call from Arthur Steele.

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Good morning, Stone. Have you found the painting?”

“Not yet, Arthur, but I can tell you that the art squad of the NYPD obtained a search warrant for Mrs. Tillman’s apartment and went over it twice.”

“And found nothing?”

“They found a frame that the burglar probably discarded.”

“Nothing else?”

“They found a back door to a service stairway that has a broken lock, which gives the burglar a way in.”

“And supports Mrs. Tillman’s story,” Arthur said glumly.

“Cheer up, Arthur, they’re going to search her East Hampton house, too, and they’re trying for a warrant for Angelo Farina’s house and studio, too.”