Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure, Page 2

  Chris was frozen. He didn’t know how to feel or what to think. He was angry, disappointed, surprised, and mostly…relieved. It was the relief that shocked him. I took that as a good sign.

  “Well…are you going to say something?” I asked.

  “Why should I?”

  That hurt, and my stomach clenched, but I guess I deserved it. “Okay. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be in our room.” I pulled the door shut before I heard his thoughts, and hurried to the bedroom. What had I done? Would he ever trust me again?

  I took solace in the fact that he had felt relief from my confession. That had to mean he had been at least a little suspicious, and that maybe deep down he knew all along. When I thought about it, I realized that we were both protecting each other from unhappy things. That meant we loved each other, right? Even if we were stupid about how we showed it.

  I waited for ten minutes thinking he’d come in. After twenty, and no sign of him, I climbed into bed and picked up the book I was reading. At nine-thirty I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The door to his study was shut and I paused to listen. I was just about to knock when Savannah and her friends came downstairs. I followed them into the kitchen and broke out the cookies and milk, talking to them until her friends left. Joshua walked in as they were leaving, and Chris finally joined us. With him near, my heart did little happy thumps in my chest.

  Watching him eat cookies and milk with Josh brought a sense of normalcy I’d been missing, so I did my best to block his thoughts. It worked because I was surprised when he got up and said goodnight to us, explaining that he still had a lot of work to do. He glanced my way with an apologetic smile and disappeared down the hall.

  I went to bed hopeful that he’d soon join me, but after eleven I fell asleep. I tossed and turned all night and when I woke the next morning, Chris was already gone. I realized he’d never come to bed and my heart broke a little. Why wouldn’t he talk to me?

  I stumbled into the kitchen and sighed with relief to find a note on the table. It wasn’t much, but he said we would talk tonight, and he was sorry he hadn’t come to bed. The case he was working on took most of the night, and he didn’t want to disturb me so he got a couple of hours sleep on the couch in his study.

  He’d done this before, so I wasn’t too worried, and he didn’t seem unreasonably upset last night. Now that I didn’t have to keep secrets, things were bound to get better. From now on, I decided I wouldn’t tell any more lies. I’d stick to the truth as much as possible. I could tell him about the five million dollars in my account, and we could decide what to do about it.

  Five million dollars. Just thinking about having that much money made my head spin. Too bad it wasn’t really mine. What about the interest? Even if I only had the money for a short time, maybe I could keep the interest it was bound to make. I should probably put it in a higher yielding money market account while I still had the chance. How much interest could that much money make in a day? I had no idea, but probably a lot. I smiled. There was a bright side to this after all. One that even Chris couldn’t disagree with.

  Feeling relieved and less stressed, I made breakfast for my kids. They hurried to the kitchen, surprised and bewildered since I never made breakfast on a school day. Usually it was cereal or toast.

  “What’s going on?” Josh asked. “Did somebody die?”

  “Don’t be a smart-aleck,” I said. “I can make breakfast for you if I want.”

  He shrugged like he didn’t care, but I knew he was grateful, especially since he had a hollow stomach. Savannah didn’t care about the food, only how she looked. I noticed the touch of eye shadow and lipstick with surprise. She’d never worn makeup before. Having this boy in her life must be serious. At least she wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup, then I’d have to say something for sure. They ate quickly, and as usual, it was a rush to get them out the door in time for their rides.

  After they left, I cleaned up and put the dishes away. The phone rang, and the caller ID said it was the police. For a second, my heart sped up. Was I in trouble? Had somebody died?

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Shelby, it’s Detective Harris. How’re you doing?”

  Relief swept through me. It was Dimples. “Pretty good,” I answered. “How about you?”

  “I’m good, thanks. How’s that bump on your forehead?”

  “It’s gone, and I don’t have to wear my dark glasses anymore. So I guess I’m back to normal,” I paused. “Well, almost normal.” There, I hadn’t lied. I could do this.

  “That’s great. The reason I’m calling is because I was wondering if you could come down to the station and help me out. You know…with your premonition thing? I haven’t asked since all that went down with Joe Manetto…to give you some time to recover. But this case I have is important and I would like to get your input. I know it’s short notice, but could you come down sometime today, maybe even this morning?”

  “Sure, that will work. I’ll get ready and come right in.”

  “Great! I’ll see you soon.”

  We said goodbye and disconnected. This was perfect. Once I helped him, I could ask about being a paid consultant, just to see if it was a possibility. Things were falling into place and looking up. It was amazing how liberating doing the right thing could be.

  I pulled into the police station an hour and a half later. Confidence radiated through me. I had a mission and a purpose, which didn’t conflict with my ‘ability’ any more. This was the real me, not the scared, stay-at-home me, who was afraid to hear something she didn’t want to.

  Inside the station, I told them Dimples was expecting me, and they let me go back to his desk. He was on the phone, and motioned me to sit down. I didn’t think I should listen to his thoughts, but that didn’t fit with the new me. Now I realized my dilemma. To listen or not to listen, that was the question, plus this was a moral issue. I used to pride myself on not being nosey, but with my newfound powers, it was hard to stop. Like telling someone not to look at something was always a sure way to make them look.

  Certainly I had more self-control than that. This was important if I was to manage around Chris and prove myself. I clamped down my senses just to see if I could do it. The whisper of voices receded and I opened my eyes.

  “Shelby?”

  I glanced at Dimples. His eyebrows were drawn together and he studied me with concern. He was thinking that maybe I wasn’t ready to do this, and he’d pushed me too fast.

  “I’m fine,” I said, answering his unspoken question. I pursed my lips…so much for my resolve. Pulling myself together, I gave Dimples the smile he wanted. Reassured, he relaxed back in his chair. He thought I looked much better than the last time he’d seen me. The bruises were gone, and my forehead wasn’t sticking out so much.

  “Thanks for coming.” He smiled back at me, and his dimples deepened into little tornados. “I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

  This time, my grin was genuine. “Sure. Glad to help.” Watching his dimples wobble always made me happy, and I realized I’d missed them.

  “Good. Let me tell you about this case. There was a burglary from the Museum of Fine Arts. They just moved their entire inventory to a new building and that’s when it happened. With so many people and volunteers helping, we can’t even pinpoint the time it occurred, because the burglary happened during the move, and was only discovered once the museum re-opened. I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Wow. That’s big.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got the Mayor on my back to get some results. You can see why I’m a little desperate.”

  He certainly was, and that desperation could get me a paying job as a consultant if I could prove my worth to the department, especially with the Mayor looking on. “What have you done so far?”

  “Talked to the Museum curator and her assistant, plus I have a list of everyone who was there helping during the move.”

  I nodded. This was going to take some digging. “I will need to ta
lk to the curator myself and all those who work at the museum. If I don’t get any vibes from them, I’ll have to talk to everyone on the list.” Something occurred to me. “What was stolen?”

  “Three paintings that were in the same crate. The curator, Jessica Palmer, said that although all of them were valuable, the Van Gogh was the museum’s most valuable piece. They’re all insured of course, but the members of the board are pretty upset.” He glanced at the paperwork on his desk. “The total value is listed at around fifty million dollars.”

  “Whoa,” I exclaimed. “That’s huge.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  I could feel the nervous energy radiating from Dimples. This was his case, and he needed all the help he could get. Even if asking me was a long shot, he was willing to take the chance.

  My heart warmed. I understood his pain and the pressure he was under to solve the case. I wanted to prove that his trust wasn’t misplaced, and that I could make a difference. “I’ll do my best to help you. Where should we start?”

  “Could you go to the museum with me?” he asked. “We could start there.”

  “Sure.”

  Chapter 2

  The museum wasn’t far from the police station, and we arrived just as it was opening. The curator wasn’t in yet, so the receptionist had us wait while she tracked the curator down. The receptionist seemed nervous, but her thoughts were only about doing her job right and not getting into trouble. The curator, Jessica, intimidated her, and had a low tolerance for mistakes. Jessica liked things ship-shape and running smoothly.

  That was interesting. If Jessica was so conscientious, how had the robbers managed to take the museum’s most prized possession? A few minutes later the curator walked in carrying a briefcase and wearing a navy skirt suit. Tall and thin, with long black hair and glasses, she was surprised to see us, but it didn’t show on her face.

  “Detective,” she said politely. “How is the investigation coming?”

  “We’re working on it,” Dimples said. “This is Shelby Nichols, Shelby this is Jessica Palmer.” We shook hands and Dimples continued. “Shelby is consulting on this case with me, and we’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course,” she smiled and ushered us into her office. The smile was all for show, underneath, she was rattled and worried. This had happened on her watch and was almost more than she could handle. She took her seat behind the desk and we sat in chairs across from her. “How can I help?” she asked.

  Dimples glanced at me, not sure how to continue. I took the lead. “We’d like to go over the staff and volunteer list with you,” I said. “Anything you can tell us about these people before we question them would be great.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…how long they’ve worked here. If you noticed any unusual behavior on the day of the move, that sort of thing.”

  “Okay,” she answered, dubious that we’d find anything she hadn’t already thought of.

  We started at the top of the staff list and nothing popped out. Moving to the volunteer list was the same, until we came to the name of Greg Bowman. She didn’t say it, but I got the distinct impression that there was something going on between them.

  “Excuse me,” I stopped her. “Is Greg Bowman one of the regular volunteers?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. Then she decided she might as well tell us the truth. “He’s a personal friend. He came because I asked him if he could help with the move.” She was thinking that she couldn’t have made it through this ordeal without him.

  “So, he’s your boyfriend?” I blurted.

  She was surprised at how quickly I figured it out. “Well, yes, but I trust him completely. I’m sure he’s not involved.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that he was,” I said. “Let’s continue with the list.”

  We finished up and Jessica admitted that she couldn’t see any of the people on the list involved in the theft.

  “How long have you been the curator here?” I asked.

  “I got the position about a year ago. Most everyone on the staff was here before me, but we’ve had a few newcomers. I still can’t imagine it was any of them.”

  “But it has to be an inside job, right?” I asked

  “It sure looks that way.” She hated to admit that someone she knew could have done this.

  We went over everything that happened on the day of the move. There were at least two people who attended the crates with double checklists. She supervised everything, and even watched the paintings that were stolen get loaded into the crate. That crate had a time stamp and a taped seal that went over it. The seal was unbroken when they opened the crate, but the paintings were gone. “I don’t know how they did it,” she exclaimed. “It’s like a magic trick. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Dimples stood. “We’d better get started with questioning the staff.”

  “Sure,” she answered. “Most everyone should be here, and I’ll have the phone numbers for all the volunteers ready with the list by the time you’re done.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jessica set us up in a small office and we began our questioning with her assistant. He was polite, but not as forthcoming as I would like. It didn’t take long to realize he had a grudge against Jessica because he had been passed over for the curator’s position. He wouldn’t mind if she failed, but he hated the fact that the paintings had been stolen. If he had been in charge, it never would have happened.

  I scratched him off the list and we continued through the staff, ending with the security guards. It had taken about two hours, and I was starting to get a headache. “I’m not getting any vibes from these people,” I told Dimples. “It must be one of the volunteers.”

  “All right,” Dimples said. He tried to hide his discouragement with a smile. “Let’s get the phone numbers and I’ll set up another time we can meet with them.”

  The receptionist had the list ready for us. We were thanking her when a man came in wearing a big grin and strutting like he was on top of the world. He noticed us, and nodded dismissively before leaning on the receptionist’s desk. “Is Jessica in her office?”

  The receptionist smiled flirtatiously. “I think so. Do you want me to call?”

  “No. I’d rather surprise her.” He straightened and started toward her office, but there was something about him that caught my interest, and I couldn’t let him get away.

  “Excuse me, but you must be Greg Bowman?”

  “That’s right. ” He turned back toward me, his eyes narrowed.

  I held out my hand and smiled. “I’m Shelby Nichols.” He clasped my hand firmly, and I continued. “And this is Detective Harris. We’re working on the recent theft. Do you have a minute? We’re going through the list to question all the staff and volunteers, and your name is on the list. It would save us a lot of time in tracking you down if we could just talk to you now.”

  “Um…sure, if it doesn’t take too long. I was going to surprise Jessica and take her out to lunch.”

  “This will only take a minute and then we won’t have to bother you again.”

  “All right. What do you want to know?”

  “Just if you noticed anything out of the ordinary that day, and what your duties were. Let’s go to the office we’ve been using and chat there. It’s right through here.” I led him back down the hallway, and nearly missed the correct office because I was listening so intently to his thoughts. He’d expected the questioning, but had hoped to put it off for at least another week. Maybe it was better this way. Now when he left in two weeks, no one would put it together.

  My heart started to pound. This was the guy. “What kind of work do you do Greg?” I asked, motioning him to take a seat.

  “Insurance, mostly disaster and homeowners. I’m an investigator. I look at the damage and then determine how much our company will pay based on the bids we get from the contractors.”

  “Oh, that sounds interesting.”


  “Yes. I’m not chained to a desk, so to speak. And I do a lot of traveling for the company.” He was thinking that was a perfect cover for when he left, and even though he wasn’t really an insurance investigator, he knew enough to know what he was talking about.

  A chill went up my spine, but I kept an interested smile. He was the guy. Now all I had to do was prove it. “How long have you and Jessica been together?”

  Greg narrowed his eyes again. “I fail to see what that has to do with your investigation.” Why was I questioning his personal life? It wasn’t any of my business, and he’d been more than cooperative already.

  “Oh, you’re right of course. I’m just a hopeless romantic,” I smiled. “Didn’t mean to pry, it just seems like you’d make a cute couple. Well, I guess that about does it for now.” I stood. “If we think of anything else, can we give you a call? I know Jessica is frantic to find the thief.”

  “Yes. That would be fine. Glad to help.” He stood, worried that he’d missed something, but couldn’t figure out what. “Are you a detective with the police?”

  “She’s a consultant helping with the case,” Dimples answered.

  “So, you’re a PI?” He couldn’t let it go.

  “No,” I gave a small laugh. “Although I do have my own consulting agency.” I heard Dimples think ‘you do?’ at the same time as Greg. “Well, at least in my mind. I haven’t formally opened for business, but I have helped the police a time or two, and I’m pretty good at what I do.”

  “Which is?” Greg asked. He wanted to know exactly what my place was in all this. Could I be an undercover agent with Interpol?

  “I haven’t decided which direction to focus on yet, but I guess what I do is more like a detective or private investigator. Wouldn’t you agree with that, Detective Harris?”

  I almost called him Dimples, but caught myself in time.

  “Um…sure,” he answered. He wasn’t about to tell the guy I had premonitions, and that was why he’d called me. He stood, wanting to put an end to the questions. “That about sums it up Mr. Bowman. Thanks for your time. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”