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“And what do those two companies have in common?” I ask.
“No clue,” Sammas replies, shaking his head. “But I’m going to find out.”
While scanning the photos for what seems the hundredth time, I notice a spot on the wall at the front entrance behind the reception desk. When I enlarge the photo, it becomes clear as day.
“Christ! Look at this!” I point to the plaque. “It’s small, I know. But I swear that says The House.”
“No way. Let me see that.” Damian takes the photo out of my hand and studies it, with Sammas looking over his shoulder. “Can’t be sure.”
“Let’s get it blown up,” Sammas says.
“I’ll scan it and send it to Zeke.” Damian sends it off immediately, and we continue to go through the rest.
Caleb is back from his trip to the morgue. He’s been gone for hours. “What the hell were you doing down there for so long?” I ask.
“After not coming up with anything new with the body, I wanted to go through every item of clothing. It was worth it. The assault was made to look like a robbery gone bad, but he still has his watch. And in the inside of his jacket, he had a coin. I thought that was weird. Looks like a half dollar, but when you look closer, it seems like something more. Long story short, I called in an expert.” He pauses and takes out a piece of paper with a picture of the coin. “It’s worth over ten thousand dollars. It was one of twelve, and they were all stolen from the Chapman Art Gallery.”
Sammas stands up and indicates the picture I was examining earlier. “That’s the Chapman Gallery.”
Caleb looks confused, but Damian smiles. “I think we’re finally hitting the right trail,” he says. He fills Caleb in on what we’ve discovered, just in time, as Zeke calls.
“Hey, did what you asked. The House was the original name of the gallery in 1962. It was sold three years ago to Randall and Associates. The curator, Hans Spelding, has been on leave for the last six months. Acting in his absence is Ivan Mallovich,” Zeke tells us.
“Does he have a rap sheet?” Caleb asks.
“A mile long,” comes over the phone. “Juvie and into his late twenties, then nothing for the last five years.”
“Thanks, man. We’ll get back to you,” Caleb tells Zeke.
“Right, and Bri says hello.” Zeke closes off before I can answer.
“He could have gone straight,” Sammas says.
I got a feeling in my gut, and if there’s one thing I learned while undercover, it’s to trust my instincts. “Doesn’t feel right,” I mutter. Damian and Caleb know me well, and when they look over, I can see they’re thinking the same.
“Can we get a man on him?” Caleb directs his question to Sammas.
“Yeah. Let me make some calls,” he replies, moving to the far end of the room and pulling out his phone.
Caleb wastes no time and asks, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that Randall and Associates and the Duke Organization are part of the same conglomerate. I don’t think this is just theft. I bet you anything that there have been a hell of a lot more ‘robberies,’” I use air quotes, “in places these companies own. Could be insurance fraud.”
“And Tursk?” Damian asks.
“Could be he got in the way? Double-crossed them in some way? Maybe he was becoming a liability. It could be anything at this point,” I say.
Sammas comes back to us. “Got a man on his way to track him down. He’ll stay on him.”
“Great. Thanks for all your help, Sammas.” Caleb extends a hand, and Sammas takes it.
“You’d do the same for me.”
“We’ve got these pieces. We just gotta find a way to connect them all,” Damian says, distracted by the photos once again.
“Puzzle pieces. Every case starts with clues, and the clues all have to fit together.” This comes from Caleb, who moves to join him at the array of spread-out papers.
“Yeah, but until we get this figured out, there’s no telling if the asshole who took Sabrina will come back, and I’m not leaving it to chance that this guy forgets about her,” I say.
