Marilyn Pappano - Nights With A Thief

Recalling Padma’s camouflage remark, Lisette took another look at the plastic bag and saw that one roll of paper had a plastic cap covering its core. The design on the paper was happy and innocent—snowmen frolicking in a wintry landscape—and, if not for the cap, wouldn’t draw a second look from anyone. Even with the cap, no one would look at it and think mailing tube with stolen masterpiece.

Except Jack.

“So start talking, sweetie. You’ve got a lot to spill in the next seven miles.”

Lisette glanced out the side mirror, noting the cars behind them. She wasn’t usually antsy, but she’d never pulled a job in her own hometown, either. And she’d never had Jack on her trail. Which was really kind of a nice place to be, though it would be nicer if he didn’t think she was a thief. He was comfortable with people whispering that about him, but she’d never experienced the slightest suspicion from anyone, and she lacked the power and fortune behind his family name. No one but Padma and her parents would care if Lisette Malone was accused of art theft.

That fact made her uneasy, so she pushed it away and asked, “What do you want to hear about first—Jack or the restaurant?”

Padma chewed her bottom lip. It was a hard choice for her: handsome, sexy, single rich guy versus trendiest place in Denver. “Restaurant first,” she finally decided.

The car ahead of them came to a sudden stop at a yellow light, and Padma slammed on the brakes, then threw both hands into the air as if to ask What the hell? Bless her heart, she was so pretty, delicate and sweet, no one ever seemed to take offense at her actions.

After a glance around, Lisette launched into a detailed description of Fire. Padma responded with gasp after gasp. When Lisette couldn’t think of a single other thing to add, Padma’s mouth formed a thin line, accompanied by a sigh. “All that beautiful paneling and trim and flooring...gone. That’s depressing enough to make me do something crazy like ordering lehenga cholis online or, heaven forbid, answering emails from Raza’s incredibly annoying girlfriend.”

Grateful for a fresh topic, and having the same opinion of brother Raza’s girlfriend, Lisette considered the lehenga choli: a long skirt worn with a midriff-baring bodice. When it came to fashion, Padma was more assimilated than her mother would like, so it would thrill Dr. Mom to see her buying traditional Indian clothing. “Ooh, that pink one you showed me? Could you get it a size larger so I could wear it, too?”

“Or here’s an idea, I could buy one for you and one for me so they would both fit. Then we could wear them when we go clubbing and tell everyone we’re twins.”

“You’d get to be the Indian twin with the fabulous hair, and I’d be the island twin with the insane curls.” Island was the ethnicity Marley had given whenever Lisette asked. That doesn’t tell me anything, she protested, and Marley had responded, Get your DNA done if it bothers you.

“Here we are.” Padma turned into a narrow drive that ended in front of a tidy white house. The garage had been converted to a room, and fall flowers bloomed in planters on the porch. The blinds at the window beside the front door swayed, then the door was flung open.

“Lisette! Padma! It’s so good to see my pretty girls.” Mrs. Maier was old enough to be their grandmother, pure white hair framing a face that was always creased by a smile. Though she wore no makeup, her cheeks were rosy, and her blue eyes popped against her pale skin. She was average height, slender as a reed, and she smelled of exotic fragrances when she hugged them.

Standing on the porch, arms wrapped around the shopping bag, Padma said loudly, “We brought you some wrapping paper. You know, because the holidays are almost here.”

Lisette kept her eyes from rolling by squeezing them shut for a moment. Mrs. Maier, though, didn’t miss a beat, replying in an equally loud voice, “Oh, that’s so sweet. Yes, with my grandbabies, I’ll have a ton of gifts to wrap. Come in, and we’ll have tea.”

Padma flashed a grin at Lisette before following the old lady inside. Her own smile rueful, Lisette trailed after them and into the kitchen. They sat at the round table that overfilled the room, where a tea service and a plate of cookies waited.

Lisette and Padma chose tea bags from the bowl next to the pot, and Mrs. Maier poured steaming water over them in delicate porcelain cups. Next she passed around the cookies, then tended to her own tea before smiling at both of them. “You said you had news, Padma. Have you located my painting?”

Padma pulled the tube out of the plastic bag and offered it to Mrs. Maier. The older woman’s brow furrowed, then understanding appeared, and her hands began to shake. “This is...oh, my heavens...are you...?”

She began to unwrap the paper, but after a round or two, she ripped it like an excited child. The top popped off when she pulled, the canvas making a faint rubbing sound as she withdrew it. When she unrolled it, the feeling Lisette had experienced upon first seeing it swept over Mrs. Maier, too: goose bumps, taut muscles, a gasp of pure joy. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at it, her breathing rapid, her entire body trembling.

“Oh, my Lord... I thought I would never see...” Her gaze lifted to them. “You sweet, sweet girls! When I asked for your help, I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t think there was anything you could do. I thought you would try your best, and then I could accept that she was gone. I’m so sorry I doubted you and so, so grateful you proved me wrong.”

Padma patted her arm. “It’s okay, Mrs. M. We have enough faith in ourselves for ten people.”

Mrs. Maier beamed through her tears. “Marley was right to be so proud of you two.”

“She trained us well,” Lisette said before taking a sip of her tea.

Padma’s smile faltered. “Mrs. M, what are you going to do with it now? The man who had it stolen...if he finds out it was returned, he may hire someone to take it again.”

Carefully rerolling the canvas, Mrs. Maier returned it to its tube. “My sons and I have discussed that. They wanted me to get it out of the house years ago, but... Their father gave it to me when we got married. It hung in our bedroom for sixty years. I just couldn’t bear to not see it every day.” Sadness slipped into her expression, regret for the loss of her husband, the painting, the innocence.

Then she cheered up. “The Fenwick Center isn’t far from here. They’re small, but they have a lovely collection. My friends and I, we go there every week to see what’s new and admire what’s old. They would provide a nice home to her.” She patted the mailing tube as if comforting Shepherdess before turning to Lisette. “Unless you’d like me to contact the Candalaria.”

If she hadn’t just swallowed the mouthful of tea, Lisette would have choked on it. “No, no, not at all. The Fenwick is a wonderful place, and she’ll be the star of their collection. Until you transfer it, though, keep it someplace safe.”

“Not a problem. My sons come over every Friday evening. They’ll store it in their bank vault until I can talk to the museum on Monday.”

They spoke a few minutes more, finished their tea, got hugged again and finally left as the first son arrived. As she drove away, Padma muttered, “If she’d donated or loaned it to the Candalaria, we’d’ve had to steal it again.”

Absolutely. Or, simpler, tell Mrs. Maier that David Candalaria had commissioned the theft. It was their rule to keep the identity of their marks to themselves. After all, their job was to retrieve the goods, not gather evidence for prosecution. But sometimes they had to break their own rules. And though it was a totally wrong idea, she couldn’t help but think of Jack and wonder.