Kate James - A Priceless Find

Sinclair gave him the rundown. It was evident that he knew his facts, but he didn’t show any of the warmth or passion that Chelsea had. Sam deduced that for him it was a job. For Chelsea? More of a calling.

Sam decided to try another angle. “Chelsea mentioned your grandmother owns the gallery.”

“Yes. She does.”

Sam saw Joel glance around the room, his eyes resting briefly on the gray-haired woman dressed in a muted pink—he supposed it would be called rose—suit in the far corner of the room.

“Is that your grandmother?”

“What? Yes.”

“I’d like to meet her.”

“I don’t see why—”

“You never know when connections to the Camden Falls Police Department might come in handy,” Sam interrupted in a tone that deterred argument.

“Yes, of course,” Sinclair said curtly.

Sam followed him to the corner where his grandmother was. They waited until she’d finished her conversation with a distinguished-looking gentleman.

“Grandmother, I’d like to introduce you to Detective Sam Eldridge,” Joel said when she turned to them. “Detective, this is my grandmother Nadine Sinclair.”

Sam noticed the slight narrowing of her eyes before she offered him a bright smile and held out her hand. Her charisma was powerful. Joel Sinclair didn’t inherit his lack of charm from his grandmother.

“It’s always nice to have a Camden Falls police officer visit our establishment.” Her expression sobered. “Do you have news about the robbery next door? What happened to Arnold Rochester is simply horrible.”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t, but we’re doing our best.”

“I’m the one who needs to apologize. How rude of me to ask about such a terrible incident when you’re a guest at our little gallery. I imagine your line of work is often thankless, but I’m grateful for what you and your colleagues do to keep our community safe and free from crime. I trust the investigation is in good hands.” The glint in her eye made Sam think she would’ve been a force to reckon with in her younger days, and probably still was. Age hadn’t dulled her intelligence or her perception. Although she made him feel as if he was her focus, she kept a vigilant eye on the room behind him.

“No apology necessary. I’m never entirely off the clock.”

She angled her head. “As I said, we’re grateful for your service and dedication. I noticed Chelsea showing you around. You haven’t been in here before, have you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I hope you like our gallery and will visit us again.”

“Thank you. You have an impressive place. I expect you have a sophisticated security system, too.”

“We do, supplemented by security guards and patrols,” Joel responded, drawing his attention. “But it’s also something we avoid discussing in public. Part of the system’s effectiveness has to do with the fact that it’s unobtrusive. If would-be thieves were to know the details of the system, it would be that much easier for them to disable or circumvent it.”

Mrs. Sinclair patted her grandson’s arm. A subtle sign of admonition perhaps?

“Joel can get very protective of the gallery...and me. So, Detective Eldridge, can I interest you in any of our works of art?”

“You’d be the third one to try,” Sam said with a smile. “And the one most likely to succeed, but no. I came more out of general interest today.”

Activity in another part of the room had all three of them turning in that direction, and Sam guessed the auction was about to begin. It was time for him to go—before an innocent scratch of his head ended up costing him a year’s salary for something he didn’t need or want. He thanked both Sinclairs and started to navigate through the crowd toward the door.

He’d ascertained that the gallery would be a viable target, if his theory held. Whether related or not, his gut told him not to trust Joel Sinclair. The grandmother seemed nice enough, but there was something about Joel that rubbed him the wrong way.

Chelsea came to mind, and he nearly laughed at himself.

No, it wasn’t because Sinclair had a relationship with Chelsea.

Sam admitted to a certain fascination with her, but she wasn’t available and Sam never poached.

Still, he couldn’t resist pausing before he left the room to search her out. She was near the podium he assumed the auctioneer would use, in animated discussion with another young woman. When she glanced in his direction and smiled, he returned her smile and waved goodbye.

Wondering if he’d see her again, he astonished himself for the second time that evening with how much he wanted to.

Business. He had to focus on business, he reminded himself. And he had the answer to his question, he thought, as he pulled away from the curb a short while later. The gallery housed valuable art. The most expensive pieces on display far exceeded the highest-priced items in the jewelry store. But while jewelry and watches could be easily fenced, priceless and readily identifiable works of art could not. Private collectors with immense wealth, a disregard for the law and secret collections would be the only potential purchasers of stolen art, in Sam’s opinion. He presumed that was a very limited group.

Since he was here, he’d take a drive down Willowbrook Avenue to see if there were any other probable targets for a major heist.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he chuckled.

Major heist and the quaint, peaceful little town of Camden Falls was a contradiction in terms. He wondered if he was looking for something big he could sink his teeth into, because—admittedly—the job here didn’t present the challenges that being a cop in one of the seedier areas of Boston had. And without a personal life to speak of, the job was all he had, he mused as he drove slowly by a gift shop and a pet food store, neither of which he considered a viable target.

But then peaceful and crime free were two of the reasons he and Katherine had decided to relocate to Camden Falls when they’d learned Katherine was pregnant. They’d also wanted a strong sense of community, and Camden Falls offered that, too. They’d been ecstatic at the prospect of raising a family here.

Well, that didn’t turn out as planned, Sam thought ruefully as he passed a ladies’ clothing boutique and a shoe store. And the big city had lured Katherine back to reestablish her career as a financial planner, while he’d stayed right here in Camden Falls, consumed with grief. They hadn’t spoken since the divorce.

With their son, Nicolas, gone, there hadn’t been any reason.

By the time Sam reached the end of the retail section of Willowbrook Avenue, he’d narrowed potential targets down to the Sinclair Gallery and an electronics store—if his theory was correct. He would’ve put the gallery at the top of the list, except for the challenge of fencing stolen works of art. So, the jewelry store struck him as the best of the possibilities, after all. And that negated his response-time-testing theory.

Maybe he was grasping at straws.

This wasn’t Boston.

He thought about the people he’d met that evening and wondered if any of them could have been responsible for the jewelry store robbery.

Sam considered Joel Sinclair and his lack of passion for the business. He wondered how much Joel made from the gallery in comparison with his grandmother. Sam’s thoughts returned to Chelsea Owens as he took a right onto Cedar Lane to head home. There was an irresistible quality to the quirky, upbeat, high-spirited young woman. But was his interest professional? Was he drawn to her because his instincts told him she might have a connection to the robbery next door? Or was the attraction personal?

He had to be overtired if he was thinking along either of those lines.