Page 72 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“Yes.”

“Is Winters one of those types of collectors?”

“Yes.”

“And you stole it back?”

“My ability to figure out any lock and my light fingers have come in handy. I was approached years ago by someone who ran an organization that helped people who have suffered losses because of people like Winters.”

I leaned forward. “You’re like a spy?”

He chuckled. “No, I’m just a thief. Our organization is known as the Robin Hood Society.”

“Because you rob from the rich and give it back to the rightful owner.”

“Yes. But I’m not a hero, Bee. I get paid well for my time and effort.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“If I were caught. Or my identity compromised.”

“Winters knows?”

“He suspects a lot of people. We’ve always disliked each other. The business he runs is shady at best. He has a huge collection that he has acquired through dubious sources. He has no boundaries. He takes priceless artifacts that should be in a museum and squirrels them away. He steals paintings that should be with the family that purchased them. He buys forgeries and passes them off as original works of art and sells them to unsuspecting clients. He is the lowest of the low.”

“I am surprised you even associate with him.”

“He wasn’t always such a lowlife. He started out much the way I did. But he took a different road, choosing to lie and cheat rather than learn and build his reputation. He got involved with forgeries and the darker side of the art world. His reputation became tarnished, but he has enough of a hold not to be ostracized completely. Yet. That is coming.”

“What did you steal?”

“A small Ming dynasty bowl.” He laughed. “I stood beside him with it in my pocket, and he had no idea.” He took another sip of wine. “To his own detriment, Winters is a braggart. He had the audacity to show part of his collection to a select group. I was among them. The piece was there, and I recognized it as stolen.”

“Why didn’t you just report it to the police?”

“Many people who experience losses like that do nothing about it publicly. The insurance rates are off the charts, and knowing their collection is susceptible to theft invites more robberies. But the art world is small, and news gets out. That is why we exist. The services are offered if desired. How, I don’t know. All I get are the details and am paid when the job is done. All very hush-hush. They have no idea who the people are who get their valuables back. They deal with the higher-ups. It gives us all a layer of safety.”

“How did you do it?” I asked.

“Right under his nose. I got myself invited to another event, and I was provided with a forgery to take with me. I swapped it out when someone else caused a distraction. The original was returned to its rightful owners. He didn’t know it was a forgery for ages. When he discovered it, he went crazy and accused a lot of people. Me included since I had seen it. It caused a great stir, and his business and reputation suffered even more. He insisted he had bought it and had no idea it was stolen, but we had proof he was responsible.”

“Do you do this a lot?”

“Only when my skills fit the job. I don’t break in to someone’s home and abscond with a painting or a massive statue. I’m good with sleight of hand and getting into locks.” He winked. “Like the one to your apartment. That was a five-second job.”

I was about to tell him off when he spoke again.

“And I got the most valuable treasure on earth for my trouble.”

“Jerk,” I mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Winters focused on me for some reason after the forgery was discovered, so I have been laying low. But stay away from him. I don’t trust him, and I hate the fact that he was ever close to you for a moment.”

“I have no intention of going anywhere near him. I didn’t like him then, and I dislike him even more now.”

“Good.” He regarded me, his gaze never wavering. “Aside from my brother, one other person, and the society, I’ve never told anyone else.”

“Why are you trusting me?”