Kate James - A Priceless Find

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be right back.”

With the folder in one hand and a cup in the other, Chelsea rejoined Mr. Anderson a few minutes later. “Here you go,” she said, placing the cup and a napkin in front of him before sitting down in the opposite chair. She reviewed the documentation with him. Once he was satisfied that all seemed to be in order, he handed her his credit card for the deposit. While Tina ran the card, she made copies of the appraisal and authentication documents for Mr. Anderson’s insurance company.

“I’ll call you if my schedule changes,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll see you on Friday to pick up the painting.”

“We’ll have it packed and ready for you, Mr. Anderson.” She held out her hand. “Congratulations on adding another magnificent piece to your collection.”

He took her hand in his. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Chelsea.”

As soon as he was out the door, not only did Chelsea do that fist pump, she did a little dance. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks when she turned around and noticed Joel watching her. “I sold the Babineux,” she said, to explain her behavior.

“Good for you,” he responded, but his tone was incongruous with the congratulatory words.

* * *

“DO YOU HAVE a minute?” Sam asked Colin from the doorway to his captain’s office.

Colin dropped the report he’d been reading on his desk. “Sure. What’s up?”

Sam took a seat on the other side of Colin’s desk. “We still don’t have anything on the jewelry store robbery.”

“You’re not bringing me a problem without a solution, are you?”

Sam knew his boss was half joking. He was always on them not to just come forward with a problem but to bring the options to solve it. “I’m working out the alternatives. First of all, if we go with the theory that the break-in was to test our response time because there’s another target in the area, my bet would be the Sinclair Gallery.”

“Why?

“The value of some of the pieces in there could pay for a small house.”

Colin leaned back and crossed his arms. “No kidding?”

“Nope.”

“I can’t see how there’d be a market for that kind of art in Camden Falls.”

“Good point. What I learned is that the gallery’s clientele is from a much larger catchment area. It’s international, in fact. When you’re dealing with rare works and there’s only a limited number of people with deep enough pockets and a desire to spend that much money on art, it doesn’t matter where the gallery is situated. There isn’t a critical mass of potential clients in any one location. They go where the art is.”

Colin nodded thoughtfully. “Regardless of what we find on the jewelry store break-in, I’ll have to think about increasing patrols in the area on a permanent basis.”

“Not a bad idea. Now here’s another long shot. I discovered that the jewelry store owners’ sister-in-law is estranged from her kid, who’s been raised mostly by them, his aunt and uncle. She has addiction issues, and was recently released from a mental health institution. You’d mentioned the possibility of an addict looking for easy money. Her last known address was Springfield, but she hasn’t been there for a while. There’s no record of employment. What if she resents the Rochesters for what might, in her eyes, amount to taking her only child away from her? And what if she’s desperate for a quick fix? Would she consider the jewelry store as a means to an end?”

Colin was silent for a moment. “I agree it’s a long shot, but I have to say that between the two alternatives, I’d consider the sister-in-law breaking in more probable. Where do you go from here?”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll try to determine the sister-in-law’s whereabouts. Continue to pursue the other avenues of investigation and so on.”

“What about the young woman who showed up at the store? We know the stats on how often perps return to the scene of the crime.”

“Not possible.” Sam was startled by the vehemence of his response. Colin was, too, if the look on his face was any indication. “What I mean is that she was too caring about Rochester. I don’t believe she’d hurt him.” Or anyone.

“Okay. Keep me informed.”

“Will do,” Sam said and rose to go.

CHAPTER SIX

THURSDAY THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Chelsea was discussing the merits of a Keith Hamilton sculpture with a couple when she heard the gallery’s front door chime. Turning, she saw Mr. Anderson hurrying through the front foyer.

“Chelsea! This is outrageous!” he called to her the minute he stepped into the showroom.

Excusing herself, she left the couple she’d been with and hurried to Mr. Anderson. He hastened toward her, too, waving a document.

“This has never happened to me in all the years I’ve been collecting!” His face was flushed, and his nostrils flared with each rapid breath he took. “As soon as I got this, I drove straight here from Boston.”

Worried more about the fact that he seemed to be hyperventilating than what her potential new clients might think, Chelsea touched his arm placatingly. “Please calm down, Mr. Anderson. Why don’t we go into the office? You can explain to me what happened. Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to fix it.”

He let out a loud harrumphing sound.

Chelsea apologized to the couple she’d been with as she led Mr. Anderson past them, and signaled to Deborah to take over.

She got him seated in the sales office, but he declined refreshments.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Chelsea said.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He flapped the papers at her. “You sold me a forgery!”

Chelsea was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“Here,” he said and thrust the papers at her. “Have a look at that. I had the Babineux authenticated myself, as I always do, and as my insurance company requires. And that!” he said, motioning at the document. “That’s what I got back. You tell me how this could’ve happened!”

Chelsea quickly scanned the document and felt the blood drain from her face. “This...this can’t be right. There has to be a mistake.”

Mr. Anderson’s jaw jutted out. “Murphy & McGuire is one of the most reputable art authentication and valuation companies in the nation. Their people have never been wrong for me before. If there’s a mistake, it’s on your end.”

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she asked. “I’d like to get Mr. Hadley.”

“Go on. Go get him.”

She left the document on the table and rushed out. As she reached Mr. Hadley’s office, Joel grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I have to get Mr. Hadley.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “I’ll tell you later.”

Fortunately, Mr. Hadley was in his office. She explained what had happened and remembered to pull the file with their copies of the authentication and appraisal reports. When they entered the sales office, Chelsea let Mr. Hadley take the lead.

“I’m terribly sorry about this,” he said, his British accent more distinct than usual. “I can’t imagine how it might have happened, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, please bring the painting back. We’ll have it reauthenticated and I will in good faith refund the full purchase price until we sort everything out.”

Mr. Anderson’s color was returning to normal and his voice didn’t sound quite as shrill. “That’ll be fine. I’ll have the painting brought in tomorrow. I’ve spent enough of my time traveling back and forth from Boston.”

“I understand. Why don’t I make it easier for you and arrange to have it picked up?”