He considered the possibilities. The easy option, the smart option, would be to excuse themselves back to the “office” and then have Ravi retrieve the painting later. They knew precisely where it was, and security appeared to be minimal. Or Alaric could call in real FBI agents. If they didn’t dither around, they could rescue Red before the senator breathed his last. So what was the problem? Well, neither of those alternatives got Alaric any closer to Emerald.
Which left option three.
“If that’s true, then Devane’s committed more than one crime. Handling stolen goods, bribery… President Harrison wants to stamp out corruption in politics, and if you helped to expose—”
Harriet cut Alaric off with a laugh. “You think Kyla got her hands dirty? Of course she didn’t. She may be a monster, but she’s not dumb.”
Emmy slid a cup of tea in front of Harriet, and no surprises, she’d managed to find cookies somewhere.
“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience. You’ve met Kyla?”
“Met her? I went to school with her. Ever seen the movie Mean Girls?”
Alaric hadn’t, but he could imagine what it was about. Fifty bucks said Emmy hadn’t watched it either.
But she nodded. “Kyla was one of them?”
“The queen bee. She always had to be the centre of attention, and if you crossed her, you’d pay. Senators are meant to be public servants. Kyla only serves herself.”
“I see.”
“Do you? If Kyla wins that senate seat, she’ll spend her entire term pushing legislation for her own benefit. Or perhaps for her friends, if she has any left.”
Carnes had resigned with almost five years remaining on his term. That gave Devane scope to do plenty of damage, and it wasn’t easy to oust a senator once they’d been elected. Like that guy from Vermont who’d won by a handful of votes in a low-turnout year, for example. He’d gone on vacation to California—with a twenty-year-old blonde who wasn’t his wife—and spawned a thousand internet memes when he punched a journalist in the face on Rodeo Drive. Still he refused to vacate his seat.
“Nobody commits a crime without a trace,” Emmy told Harriet. “If we follow the trail…”
“Oh, please. Kyla swept up afterwards, trust me on that. And even if she did miss a few breadcrumbs, the elections take place in two weeks. I’ve seen how slowly the FBI moves. Remember that psycho sending letter bombs to politicians nine years ago? Our housekeeper died, and you people took nearly a year to catch him.”
Hmm… How should they play this? Their FBI badges had opened the door, but now they were stuck in mud on the other side of the threshold. They needed to demonstrate they were on the same wavelength as Harriet. Convince her that they could work fast. The old man had to know something about Red’s origins, and if they caught him during one of his lucid periods…
Alaric opened his mouth to speak, but Emmy got in before him.
“Yeah, we’re not FBI agents.” Shit. What was she playing at? Her American accent had fallen by the wayside too. “We’re private investigators.”
Hegler spat out his tea. “But you said…”
“Actually, I never did.”
He pointed at Alaric. “He has a badge.”
“Five bucks on the internet. Pretty convincing, huh? I think they make them in China.”
Tea slopped into Harriet’s saucer as she pushed back her chair and stood, arms akimbo. “Get out of my house.”
Emmy sat down instead, nonchalant as she sipped her tea with one pinky extended. “Let’s talk instead.”
Alaric put his head in his hands and groaned. Emmy had that devious glint in her eye, and he realised she hadn’t mellowed with age, not one bit. This wasn’t going to be good.
CHAPTER 7 - ALARIC
“WHY ON EARTH would I want to continue this conversation? You just admitted you’ve lied to me.” Harriet glanced at her watch. “And I have a TV crew due here in half an hour. Somebody has to try and undo the damage my father did.”
Emmy dodged the question. “Kyla’s a devious bitch, yeah?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Tell me, whose chances would you rate against her? The FBI? Or another devious bitch?”
Harriet didn’t answer, but she did drop her arms to her sides.
“The way I see it, you’re fucked. Rumour says your father’s made bad business decision after bad business decision, and now he can’t leverage his senate position to borrow more money. How much does this place cost to run? Ten thousand a month? Fifteen? When will the cash run out? If you sell many more horses, you won’t have enough breeding stock left for next year.”
Oh, shit. Was Emmy right? The pieces all fit, although Alaric would never have put it quite so bluntly.
Hegler’s mouth dropped open. “No, that’s not right. Tell her, Harry.”
Harriet didn’t so much sit back down as collapse into the chair. “I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I can’t. Stéphane, I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you, but…”
“How bad is it?” he whispered.
“Daddy borrowed against this place. If I don’t find a hundred thousand dollars by the end of June, then the bank wants to foreclose. Until he got sick and I started going through his paperwork, I had no idea. I mean, I should have guessed when he wouldn’t replace Julio after he left last year, or Austin, but… I don’t know what to do. I’ve been paying people out of my savings for the last two months, but they’re almost gone. And now Kyla’s back, trying to ruin my life.”
“We’ll be homeless?”
“I’m doing my best to prevent that. Or at least to delay things. If Daddy has to leave this place before his time, it’ll kill him. He’s living in the past now. Every time I go into his room, he’s talking to Dominique.” She met Emmy’s gaze. “Please, I know you have to take the painting back, but is there any way you could wait until…until he’s gone?”
They’d broken her. Harriet had gone from strong to sobbing in the space of ten minutes. Dammit, Alaric hated this part of the job. Bringing down people who deserved it was satisfying; ruining a woman trying to hold her family’s life together hurt.
“I might have a solution.”
Everyone looked at him.
“There’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward on offer from the Becker Museum. When we return Red, the cash is yours.”
Harriet’s glimmer of hope turned to confusion.
“But I don’t understand. Why would you give up your money?”
“Maybe we’re just Good Samaritans.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Alaric’s turn to sigh. “It’s a long story, but Red After Dark wasn’t the only painting stolen from the museum that day, and it’s not the main target of our investigation. Have you heard of The Girl with the Emerald Ring?”
Hegler nodded. “When we realised what Irvine had done, we looked up the details of the robbery. The Girl with the Emerald Ring was the most valuable painting taken, wasn’t it?”