Suspicious (On the Run) (5 page)

She scanned the ceiling, saw the light fixture, and was up on the toilet lid before she’d had time to think it through. She couldn’t reach it. She hopped back down, frantically scanning the room. There had to be something—her gaze landed on the travel-size bottle of lotion.

The bracelet was still on the bathmat. She hesitated a second before picking it up. Touching it seemed like a commitment, a commitment to a path that put them in opposition to the police.

“Mrs. Andrews,” the tenor voice said, “we request you join us.”

“Yes. Of course. Sorry.” She quickly unscrewed the cap on the opaque bottle of lotion then used a tissue to pick up the bracelet. She didn’t want even the faintest trace of a fingerprint on the bracelet. It was much heavier than she’d expected. She transferred it to the lotion bottle and was relieved when all the stones slipped easily through the opening. A little lotion oozed over the side as the last diamond went in. Zoe wiped it off, capped the bottle, gave it a few shakes to make sure it was at the bottom and covered by lotion, and then tossed the tissue in the trash. The bottle felt a little heavy, but she couldn’t do anything about that. She tightened her grip around it for a second, wanting to put it in her pocket, but that would draw attention to it, especially if the police searched her pockets. No, better to leave it in plain sight. She shoved it into the line along the back of the counter with her makeup.

She massaged the rest of the lotion into her hands then opened the door, and a man nearly fell into the bathroom. He was about Zoe’s height, had a slight build, and his thick eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl that created wrinkles at the bridge of his nose. “Ah, Signora Andrews. Good of you to join us. I am Colonel Alessi.”

He didn’t extend his hand for Zoe to shake it, so she nodded and moved across the room to join Jack where he stood near the balcony. For someone who didn’t know him, his casual posture of crossed arms as he leaned against the balcony door might have looked relaxed, but Zoe could tell from the glowering look in his eyes that he was furious. “Did you hear what was said?” Jack asked, his voice tight.

“Enough.”

A second, younger man accompanied Alessi. He stood up from where he’d been peering under the bed and dusted off his pants. Alessi jerked his head toward the bath, and the young man disappeared through the door.

“It’s best to let them have their look around,” Jack said. “Then they’ll see we have nothing to hide.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Zoe said and sent him a warning glance.

Jack’s didn’t move, but his gaze sharpened on her. He pushed away from the wall. “Since you’ve already searched the balcony, you don’t have any objection to my wife sitting there, do you?” The sentence wasn’t phrased as a question, and Jack was already moving so that Zoe could step outside before Alessi gave a disinterested wave of the hand. He was focused on the award plaque that he’d picked up from the dresser.

“Do we have something to hide?” he asked in a low voice as she moved by him.

“Yes,” she breathed. She took a seat and sent a quick, pointed gaze to the bathroom. The shower door clicked as the officer open it, glanced inside, and then closed it. He moved out of their line of sight, and Zoe heard the ceramic toilet tank lid clink as he moved it. Good thing she hadn’t put it in there. More clinking as he replaced the lid. The young officer came into view again, his back to them, as he scanned the counter around the sink. Zoe forced herself to look away, even though she wanted to stare at the lotion bottle.

She looked at Alessi, who was turning the plaque slowly in his hand, examining each surface. He moved a few steps closer to them and angled it toward the light streaming in through the windows as he ran his thumbnail along the thick edge of the plaque. He glanced at them once, a long measuring glance, then removed a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, extended one of the blades, and inserted it into what looked like a dark thread in the grain of the wood.

The knife blade twisted, flashing in the sun, and the thin dark line widened into a gap. Alessi worked the knife blade back and forth a few more times, and the gap broadened until he was able to put his thumbs on the edges and pry. The plaque split into two pieces, exposing a foam center with cutouts for a necklace, a bracelet, and two earrings.

Gemma pulled into a slot along the curb across the street from Croftly Jewelers. A dark blue awning shaded the shop’s single front window, which held a display of diamond necklaces and earrings. When she’d met with the informant, he had pushed his long hair back off his face and said, “All I know is me mate said that the guy’s name is Terrance Croftly, and that he’s got a medieval cross that he’s pulling stones out of.”

A ninth-century jewel-encrusted cross had been stolen from Gilbrand House. Of course the informant hadn’t seen the cross himself and couldn’t describe it.

“And why would this Terrance Croftly flash around something as distinctive as a medieval cross?” Gemma had asked.

“He weren’t,” the informant had said. “Me mate, the one who told me about it, saw it by accident. He works the counter, doesn’t usually go in the back. Surprised ’em, I guess.”

Gemma doubted that was exactly the way it had happened, but regardless, they had the tip.

The shop looked like the other small-to-medium businesses in London’s diamond district. Gemma tapped the wheel, wishing she could go in as a customer for a quick browse, but that would be a mistake, if she had to go in later undercover.

She was good undercover. It was how she first connected with the Art Squad. They needed someone who didn’t look or sound like a cop and had pulled her from traffic duty to play the part of a dodgy American dealer anxious to buy a stolen painting. When she met the thieves, her accent and her gender, two things that had often been negatives in her career, worked as assets and had put the criminals at ease. The bust had gone like clockwork. Within a year, she was able to transfer to the Art Squad.

Gemma returned to the office and pulled everything she could find on Terrance Croftly.

***

Zoe leaned over the table, her gaze locked on Alessi’s face. “I don’t know anything about the plaque, except that Melissa Davray gave it to us at the opening of the exhibit.” The plaque, now encased in a transparent plastic bag, rested on the table between her and Alessi. They were in some sort of police station. Zoe wasn’t even sure if it was a police station or an office of the Carabinieri.

After Alessi discovered the interior compartment in the plaque, he’d called the younger officer out of the bathroom, which had been a relief for Zoe, but then Alessi had insisted Jack and Zoe come with him and give an official statement. Jack had objected, but Alessi had been firm. They could either come willingly or in handcuffs. Since they didn’t have a choice, they’d gone with him, but Jack had used the cell phone to find a phone number for the American Embassy and had called it while they were on the way. Alessi hadn’t liked that. His frown deepened, but he hadn’t stopped Jack either. Unfortunately, when Jack explained their situation, the American official took down the details and said he would get back to them soon.

They’d been separated, and Zoe had waited at least an hour in the stuffy room before Alessi threw open the door and placed the plastic bag on the table.

Zoe rubbed her forehead. “Look, my answers aren’t changing. Your questions aren’t changing. We’ve been over this—many times. We took the plaque back to our hotel room and put it on the dresser. We didn’t examine it or try to pry it open like you did. We just set it down and went on with our sightseeing. Instead of being so interested in Harrington, I’m surprised you’re not asking about Melissa Davray. She was the one who gave it to us.” She considered telling him about Harrington’s theory of a thief in the company, but Alessi’s questions hadn’t gone there yet, and the last thing she wanted to do was give him a new avenue to explore. So far, he was mostly interested in the plaque. And, Harrington himself had admitted that he had no proof of a thief within Millbank and Proust, only a theory.

She was sure Jack would stick as closely to the truth as possible, but given his recent run-ins with police when he’d been wrongly accused, Zoe was sure he wouldn’t give up the details about Harrington and the real reason for their trip to Rome. If she volunteered the info when Jack hadn’t, it wouldn’t look good for her or Jack. And considering she had stuffed several million dollars’ worth of diamonds into a lotion bottle back at the hotel, she wanted to keep this encounter as short as possible. The less said, the better.

Alessi said, “Every possibility will be considered, but at this point, you and your husband are a special case. This morning, we received information that you, your husband, and Harrington Throckmorton stole the diamonds. Signor Throckmorton cannot be found, and you and your husband had in your possession a plaque, which you obviously used to remove the diamonds from the exhibit last night, so I’m sure you can understand why we are so interested in you. Tell me, Signora Andrews, was it Signor Throckmorton’s idea? Did he come to you and your husband? Or have you perhaps done this before?”

Zoe closed her eyes for a second and fought off the sheer panic that rose inside her. “I’ve told you—there wasn’t any plan to steal anything. Harrington contacted Jack about the award. We didn’t know anything about the plaque being hollow. As I said, we didn’t see it or know about it until Mrs. Davray handed it to us. Harrington only said it was an award. I thought it would be a certificate or something like that.”

“Ah, but Signora Davray says it was Signor Throckmorton who coordinated everything involved with the plaque. How often were you in contact with him?”

“Me? Never. He contacted Jack.”

“And how many times did you meet with him to plan this robbery?”

Zoe muttered, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.” In her normal voice, she said, “We never met to talk about a robbery.”

Alessi jumped on her words. “But you said earlier that you met yesterday.”

“Yes, we met, but—as I also said earlier—we discussed the award.”

The scowl that seemed to be permanently etched between Alessi’s eyebrows deepened. “It was his suggestion for the company to give you the award and pay for your travel here to Rome. He arranged it all.”

“But that doesn’t mean he planned to replace the Flawless Set with fakes and smuggle the real ones out in the plaque.” Zoe tapped the plastic bag. “This could be a distraction.”

Alessi’s frown eased as he leaned back in his chair. “A red herring, you mean? As in a crime novel? No, I am afraid that thieves are rarely as clever in real life as they are in fiction.”

***

After two more rounds of the same questions, Alessi left and a paper with her statement was produced. She signed it and was escorted into a long hallway where a woman barreled out of one of the doors and plowed into Zoe. The woman looked familiar and amid the apologies, Zoe took a closer look and realized it was Melissa Davray. Without her hair coiffed around the diamond-studded combs, it fell flat and straight around her face, which looked plain without the dramatic makeup highlighting her eyes and lips. Her boxy gray suit and plain white shirt were about as far as you could get from the mermaid gown, stylistically speaking.

She apologized in Italian, then recognized Zoe. Her expression froze, and she broke off mid-sentence. Switching to English, she said, “So clever, turning one of our own against us. But I will not forget this. You have taken advantage of our gratitude and embarrassed us.”

“Wait a minute. We had nothing to do with—”

She stepped forward, forcing Zoe back against the wall. She was so close that Zoe could see the yellow flecks in her hazel eyes. “Alessi may not be able to prove what you did—yet.”

Zoe’s escort, a compact woman with her hair clipped back in a no-nonsense bun, stepped forward to intervene, but Melissa held out her hand and snapped a few words in Italian that made the woman pause.

Melissa turned back to Zoe, “Your business is built on the ‘help’ you gave us. I promise you that I will personally see to it that Safe Haven is completely dismantled. You will never have another client after I’m done.”

She turned and marched away, her sensible low-heeled pumps clacking on the tile floor.

***

Jack was waiting outside at the foot of the marble steps. Zoe’s police escort watched from the top of the steps as Zoe descended. Jack reached out, and Zoe threaded her fingers through his as they strode away from the building at a quick pace.

Jack leaned close. “Did you mention Harrington’s suspicion about the thefts?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

“Good. I knew you wouldn’t.”

He shot her a glance, his eyebrows raised as they navigated around tourists consulting a map.

“Don’t look surprised. I may not have you totally figured out, but I do know a few things about you. You’re quite skittish where the police are concerned.”

“With good reason.”

“Yes, I’ll give you that. So I knew you’d give the least complicated version of the truth and get out of there as soon as possible. I just hope Alessi didn’t send someone back to search our room again.”

“Why?”

“Because the bracelet from the Flawless Set was in my jewelry bag in the bathroom.”

Jack stumbled. “What?”

Zoe recounted how she’d found the bracelet and where she’d hidden it.

“You’re sure it was from the Flawless Set?”

“The clasp is broken, just like the one at the exhibit last night, and it had the mark, the
R
in the oval.”

“That sounds like the real deal.”

“I know. Did Alessi tell you that they got a tip this morning that you and I and Harrington stole the Flawless Set?”

“No, he didn’t. No wonder he’s leaning so hard on us.”

“It can’t be true,” Zoe said. It was impossible to imagine proper and buttoned-down Harrington stealing.

“No, of course not,” Jack said. “But I’m even more worried about him now.”

“I know,” Zoe said. “I can only think of a few reasons he’d go missing.”

“Yes, and none of them are good.”

“Maybe he’s hurt or sick. Or he could have been in an accident.” Zoe rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Listen to me. You know the situation is horrible when the thought of someone being hurt or sick is a positive.”

“We’ll find him,” Jack said confidently. “First, we have to get back to the hotel and take care of that thing you mentioned.”

“Where are we?” Zoe looked around for familiar streets or landmarks. They’d been moving along quickly and talking so intently that she hadn’t paid attention to where they were.

“We’re not far from the hotel, and we have a tail.” They stopped to cross a street, and Jack said, “Behind my right shoulder, about fifteen feet back. Receding hairline and a mustache. Gray shirt, black pants. See him?”

Zoe pretended to adjust the strap of her messenger bag as she glanced over Jack’s shoulder. She swallowed. “Yes. How long has he been following us?”

“He dropped onto us a block from the police station.” The light changed, and they joined a group crossing the street in front of a line of Smart cars and motor scooters. “I’m not sure about the woman with the blue backpack and sunglasses,” Jack said as they neared the other side of the street. “She could be following us, too. Looks like Alessi cut us free so he could keep an eye on us, see what we do.”

Zoe looked back in time to catch a glimpse of a woman much closer to them with dark hair caught up in a bun.

“I think she may have escorted me out of the police station.”

“Thought so,” Jack said.

“Should we try to lose them?”

“No, that would look odd.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go back to our hotel—that’s a perfectly normal thing to do, except for the checking on the priceless jewelry part.”

“Right. We’ll just keep that last thing to ourselves.”

They consulted their map and caught a bus that dropped them a few blocks from their hotel. They made their way through the bustling Campo de’ Fiori, passing the statue of the hooded philosopher—Zoe couldn’t remember his name—but she knew the somber figure had been burned in the campo for heresy during the Inquisition. The statue had always seemed such a sharp contrast to the busy market of vendors selling fruit and vegetables, spices, flowers, and specialty foods as well as the crowds gathering at open-air restaurants that ringed the square. The statue looked especially forbidding today.

Zoe tried to shake off the bleak feeling as they moved into the street off the campo and paused at the hotel’s front desk. The desk clerk was away, so Jack stepped around the counter and removed their key from its pigeonhole in the wall.

They climbed the steps to their room, and Zoe went directly to the bath. The little bottle was still there, and it still felt slightly heavier than a normal bottle of lotion. She turned toward Jack to tell him, but he was near the window, positioned with his back to the wall so that it would be difficult for someone outside to see him.

Zoe crossed the room. “Are they there?”

“Yes, one of them, anyway. Mustache Guy is waiting at the corner.”

She raised the bottle. “Still here.”

“Did you check?” Jack asked softly.

“No.” Zoe moved to the bathroom and he followed. Zoe unfolded a towel on the counter, then working over the towel, she unscrewed the lid and banged the bottle on her palm a few times until she felt the first stone. The bracelet slipped into her hand covered in globs of lotion. She used the back of her fingers to wipe away some of the lotion, which revealed the facets of the diamonds, their sharp angles catching the light. She found the stone on the end and rubbed away the lotion, revealing the broken clasp.

Jack wiped his hand over his mouth. “That’s real. That’s it.”

“I know,” Zoe said with a sigh. “I hoped I was wrong—that I’d made a mistake, and it would look like an imitation. But this is it.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

“What are we going to do? Someone tried to frame us.”

Still staring at the bracelet, Jack said, “I don’t know, but I think the best thing would be to get you to the airport right away.”

“Why? Can you think of someone I could take this to? Someone who’d help us out?”

“No, to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going to go off and leave you here to sort this out on your own.”