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“He’s not. He’s alert as hell, but being bored is a good way to distract the sellers. He’s done this for years, remember. Or his cover has. As transactions go, four million is a small one. We’ve orchestrated individual fake buys of well over ten million.”
“Does he have other covers?” Connor asked.
“Yep. At least four others. Part of being a UC is developing the backstory of your covers. Every one of his covers looks different. He once walked past his own mother in disguise and she didn’t notice him. Perry Dunst is very good at this.”
“And if Roxanne brings backup, your sharpshooters will neutralize them,” Kit said, because she had a bad feeling about this situation. Roxanne was late.
If Kit had been selling four million dollars’ worth of stolen coins, she’d have had someone watching the area for just this scenario—cops posing as real buyers. But this was Goddard’s area of expertise, so she kept her concerns to herself.
Goddard grimaced. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but yeah. They will. They’ve had to do it before, but it’s more likely that we’ll make the arrest before they start shooting. But if bullets start flying, the sharpshooters’ mission is to protect Dunst and to keep the targets from escaping.”
“Did you expect Roxanne to be so late?” Connor asked. “And are we even sure the coins Dunst is buying are the ones stolen from Benny Dreyfus?”
“They’re the same. Dunst got the documentation on all of the coins. Your killer took photos on a black background. No identifying characteristics that way. This bitch is smart, but she’s off her normal MO.”
“Selling the merchandise right away,” Kit said.
Goddard nodded. “Exactly. If your theory holds—and it sounds right to me—she’s always waited at least a year before selling the stolen items. But now we know she’s stolen Dreyfus’s coins, so she has to get rid of them quickly. Plus, if what she did with William Freeman’s Dutch Master painting is her norm, she has paperwork proving she was the actual owner by way of donation. We’ll have to find out if those donation documents are legit. I have a feeling she forged most, if not all, of them. How did the family not know Freeman had donated the painting?”
“I called William Freeman’s son,” Connor said, “to get the full background.”
Connor had made the call when Kit had been asleep and while she wished she’d heard the conversation, she was grateful for being able to get some rest. She was truly alert. For now. She’d crash later.
“His son confirmed that William was independent about his charitable giving,” Connor went on. “His family tried to stop him, but William found ways to do what he wanted. He also wasn’t happy that they’d put him in a home. He wanted to be in his own home, but his son had a limited power of attorney that William had signed when he was going in for quadruple bypass surgery. The son didn’t want William living alone after the surgery, so he sold William’s house, and William was forced into a retirement home when he got out of the hospital. He was angry and determined to leave his family with as little as possible.”
“I’d be pissed off, too,” Goddard said, sounding horrified.
Connor sighed. “Same. William was also very passionate about supporting veterans. His oldest son had come back from Vietnam with critical injuries. Lost both legs. Had terrible PTSD. He took his own life, and William never recovered.”
“So appealing to William’s need to help vets was a good way to get him to agree to donate something valuable,” Kit murmured. “Roxanne did her homework. Just like with Benny’s coins. She might have waited to sell Benny’s coins for another year had Frankie Flynn not become involved. She killed Frankie, then had to kill Benny before he could say whatever it was that he knew. She called in sick today, so I think she knows we suspect her.”
“Do you know how Frankie knew about her?” Goddard asked.
“Not yet, but we’ll figure it out,” Kit vowed. “Frank had to have suspected something because he’s dead.”
“What about Roxanne’s sister?” Goddard asked.
“We’re looking for her,” Connor said. “Jackie Beaton’s address is in Tennessee, just outside Knoxville. We requested that local law enforcement check her house, but she wasn’t home. The neighbors said that Jackie lives there with her boyfriend, Neil Fogarty, but they haven’t seen them in a day or two. She’s an accountant who works out of her home, so she’s usually there. Knoxville PD offered to keep an eye on her property, doing drive-bys until Jackie comes back. We have no idea if Jackie has anything to do with Roxanne’s crimes, but she lives in the same town where Warriors with Wounds is based. If Jackie isn’t involved, she might know where her sister would run to.”
“Who owns this fake charity?” Goddard asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Connor said with a frustrated edge to his voice. “I started checking this afternoon, but so far all I’ve found is a tangle of shell companies.”
“We can help with that—”
“Guys,” Kit interrupted, pointing to the Chevy SUV slowly approaching the Bentley in the parking lot across the street. She peered through her binoculars to get a good look at the license plates. She read out the plate numbers and Connor called it in.
The Chevy continued its slow approach, driving in a circle around the Bentley. “There’s a man in the passenger seat,” Kit said. “A woman in the driver’s seat.” Disappointment lanced through her, because the woman appeared petite, sitting low behind the steering wheel. Roxanne was five-eight at least. “It’s not Roxanne Beaton.”
Connor put his cell phone on speaker and used his own binoculars. “That,” he said with satisfaction, “is Jackie Beaton.”
Connor’s cell phone crackled when Dispatch came back on the line. “Detective Robinson? The vehicle is a rental from Endeavor Rental Cars.”
“Thank you.” Connor ended the call just as Jackie stopped her SUV next to the Bentley. The man in the passenger seat got out.
“That looks like Jackie’s boyfriend, Neil Fogarty,” Connor commented.
Kit noted the bulge at the man’s back. “He’s got a gun.”
