Lev Rosen - Depth

“So, before we head over to the Four Seasons, you’re going to tell me everything,” Caroline said, leaning back on her desk and closing her arms. She was wearing a gray suit with a white collared shirt. Her mood wasn’t as good as Simone had hoped. She had thought—optimistically, apparently—that by telling Caroline about Danny’s gaffe, they’d be on the road to reconciliation. She wasn’t so sure now.

“Okay,” Simone said. “Can I sit?”

Caroline nodded at one of the chairs in front of her desk. “And if you leave anything out or lie, I will know, and that will be it. I am offering you a do-over. I’m letting you talk to me like you should have talked to me from day one.”

“Okay,” Simone said again, sitting gingerly.

“And you should say ‘thank you’ for that.”

“Thanks,” Simone said, somewhat flatly. Caroline raised her eyebrows, then spun around and went to sit behind her desk.

“From the beginning.”

Simone told her everything, from the case Linnea had hired her for, to the first murder, to Linnea’s body showing up in her office. She found it was easy once she got started—easier than her usual routine of glossing over the truths of her work, withholding information. Caroline watched and listened, her feet up on the desk, her face rarely betraying anything besides interest.

“A map.” Caroline said when Simone had finished. She stood and looked out her window. “I thought it was just some art for the foundation. I didn’t know… My parents are nuts, you know that, right?” She turned back and looked at Simone, and for a moment, Simone felt hopeful—Caroline was talking to her. Was complaining about her parents, like she used to. But then Caroline seemed to realize this too, and her mouth became a straight line again. She sat back down at her desk, her back straight, her movements all mathematical, hard geometry. “Why stay on the case?” Caroline asked, after a moment. “When Kluren told you to quit and your client disappeared? Why keep digging?”

“Kluren was fitting me for a prison jumpsuit.”

“Bullshit. Kluren may not like you, but she’s a good cop, religiously by the book, and you know it. She wouldn’t have locked you up without cause. Why did you keep digging?”

Simone looked down, and her hat fell off her head onto the floor. She stared at it a minute, her now loose hair partially obscuring her vision.

“You were involved,” she said after a minute.

“I was involved? So what, you wanted to make sure I wasn’t secretly a criminal mastermind?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” The hat had fallen at an angle, but with the rim up, so she could look into the hat and its black lining, where a few of her hairs had curled like red ink, words in calligraphy so fancy she couldn’t read it. She heard Caroline get up from behind her desk, and looked up at her. Caroline was looking out the window.

“Okay then,” Caroline said. “Let’s go see Marina. You can tell me your theory on the way.”

FORGERY. THAT WAS SIMONE’S theory. That, and Henry and Linnea were so busy looking at each other, expecting betrayal, they never counted on someone coming for the painting without paying. They’d been in over their heads before they even finished conceiving the plan.

“It’s the Mona Lisa con,” Simone explained as they stopped for pretzels. “They find a lost painting, maybe stolen, something, but they know it’s valuable. So instead of auctioning it off to just one buyer, they get greedy: forge a whole bunch of them and sell them to all the buyers.”

“Wouldn’t their buyers find out, eventually?” Caroline asked. Simone bit into her pretzel and started walking towards the Four Seasons, Caroline keeping pace beside her.

“That’s why you do this with a stolen painting,” Simone said between bites. “No one catches on because no one wants to admit they bought a painting they know was stolen. In this case, though, people aren’t really interested in the painting. They’re interested in the information contained in the painting. So when they sell the painting—no one admits to buying it, because then people will try to find out where the painting is and steal it, or at least the information. Everyone keeps the painting secret.”

“But won’t they all just end up meeting at the location on the painting?”

“I imagine Marina and the St. Michels were betting that the location is a dud.” Simone took another bite of her pretzel and swallowed before continuing. “Just some random apartment building, nothing special. That’s what I’d bet on.”

“So people buy the forgeries, check out the location, see it’s nothing, and then go back to their lives, having lost however much money they were willing to spend.”

“Which is why they hired Marina. She works people—she got you to pay exactly your maximum for the painting, didn’t she?”

“The maximum my parents told me to pay, but yeah.” Caroline rubbed the space between her eyebrows. “I can’t believe they got me mixed up in this.”

“Everyone knows the painting could be fool’s gold, your parents included. Everyone has a set amount they’re willing to risk and have it turn out to be worthless. And Marina works people to get to that price. It’s a great scheme. No one gives a fuck about the painting once they realize it hasn’t led them anywhere. And if they do find out someone else bought it, well, the St. Michels and Marina—and their forger, whoever he is—are long gone by then. Plus no one wants to admit they bought a treasure map that didn’t lead anywhere.” Simone swallowed the last bite of her pretzel and licked the salt from her hand.

“So who killed Henry? Was it Linnea?”

“No. Henry and Linnea were going to turn on each other, and each knew it—that’s why Linnea hired me in the first place. But neither was going to try that till after the paintings were sold. For them, it was about the money. Linnea was killed by Dash, I’m almost positive. Someone hired him to get the painting. But she didn’t have it, or wouldn’t give it up.” Simone put her hands in her pockets, remembering Linnea. “Probably wouldn’t give it up. I’d say Marina has it, but then she would’ve just given it to the highest bidder, given everyone else their money back, and acted as though it were a normal job. It wouldn’t have been as big a payday, but she wouldn’t have had to split it.”

“So who’s left?”

“The forger.”

“And who’s the forger?”

“That’s what we’re about to ask Marina.”

Simone stopped and stared up at the Four Seasons. They’d arrived, and she needed to prepare herself for what she had to do. She wasn’t going to torture Marina, the way Dash had done to Linnea, but she wasn’t above punching her in the jaw, either. Marina was smart, though, and her primary instinct would be survival. With Caroline there, Simone could make a compelling case for pinning the whole thing on Marina and sending her off to prison. Hopefully, Marina would talk to avoid that.

“Let me do most of the talking,” Simone said as they walked up to the door. “I’m going to use you—your position—to intimidate her. Make it seem the law has her and she’s about to get locked in the hull of some prison ship for the rest of her life if she doesn’t cooperate. Bring out the legalese to back me up, if you need to; otherwise, stay quiet and look angry.”

“I thought you said I could hit her.”

“If the opportunity presents itself.”

“Okay, but my interpretation of ‘presents itself’ may be looser than yours.” Caroline walked into the elevator and hit 30. “She’s in room 3003.”

“You should knock. That’ll be better,” Simone said. She took her gun out of her boot, checked it was loaded, and put it back while Caroline watched in silence. The elevator rang, and the door opened. Caroline led the way down the hall.