“I’m glad I got here before you left so I had a chance to meet you,” Alan said. “I need to go downstairs to verify which of the paintings stolen from the Thompson Museum are here. We’ll have our experts authenticate them, but based on the information I’ve been given, there’s no doubt in my mind that we have some of our treasures back. I look forward to seeing you both again,” he concluded before heading toward the basement.
It was the middle of the afternoon before Chelsea went home. Sam had explained that he had to meet with Colin, the FBI special agents and Alan Lancaster at the police station, and then deal with report writing.
Chelsea felt terrible for Mrs. Sinclair and for Joel, but she still couldn’t believe what she’d been part of. For more than a quarter of a century those paintings had been missing, eluding the FBI and the museum’s security personnel, and she’d been the one to start the process of their recovery!
The thought of those paintings being back on the walls of the Thompson Museum, replacing the empty frames that had been in their place for more than twenty-five years—as a symbol of hope, awaiting the paintings’ return—made her giddy with excitement.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Sam when he walked her to her car. “You have no idea how much it meant to me to see those paintings.”
“I might not appreciate art, but I do have a pretty good idea what it means to you,” he said, almost echoing her thoughts from earlier that day. He traced a fingertip gently along her cheek and touched his lips to hers.
“Thank you,” she repeated in a whisper.
“You’re welcome. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can.”
* * *
SAM ARRIVED AT Chelsea’s apartment shortly after nine. The moment he stepped inside, she threw herself into his arms.
“How could this have happened?” she asked. “I’ve been sitting here, trying to make sense of it.” She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t get my mind around it. I can’t even believe that all this is real. That it’s not just a foolish dream and I’ll wake up any minute!”
“I can assure you, it’s not.” He dropped a kiss on her temple. “We’ve got a confession from Nadine Sinclair.”
“A confession? To what? Did she... Was she...”
Sam laughed. “Chels, if you want me to answer a question, you have to at least finish it.”
She liked the familiar way he said her name. It implied intimacy and gave her hope. She took three deep breaths. “Okay, let me take your coat and make some coffee first.”
While she hung up Sam’s coat, Mindy strolled over to him. He picked up the cat, stroking her head as he followed Chelsea into the kitchen.
Chelsea did her best to contain her curiosity until the coffee was made and they were sitting in the living room, Mindy curled up on Sam’s lap. Taking another deep breath, she willed herself to slow down and ask the questions one at a time. She started with the most burning and improbable question first. “Was Mrs. Sinclair involved in the Thompson heist?” She’d done the math in her head, and knew that Mrs. Sinclair would have been fifty-one when the theft had occurred.
Sam ran a finger across Chelsea’s forehead.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to smooth the worry lines.”
“I can’t help it. I’m upset about what’s happening to Mrs. Sinclair. How did she get the paintings? Was she involved in the heist? What did she confess to?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” he said. “You have to promise not to say anything about any of this to anyone.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes, but it was more about form than irritation. “Here we go again. Yes, I promise.”
“The Thompson Museum heist remains the biggest robbery of its kind to date, has stumped the FBI for decades and was perpetrated by a grandmother.” Sam laughed, not with humor but with astonishment.
Chelsea leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “So, Mrs. Sinclair did do it? She stole the art from the museum?”
“Not on her own, no. But she was instrumental in it. She was in her early fifties at the time. Recently widowed after her husband, son and daughter-in-law died when the small plane they were taking for a ski trip crashed. She was already looking after Joel, as she was his only remaining family.”
Chelsea nodded. Neither Mrs. Sinclair nor Joel liked to talk about the accident—understandably—but she knew about it, because Joel had shared the sad story with her.
“According to her, she came into some insurance money, but not enough to support a young boy and put him through college. She’d been working part-time at the Thompson Museum in their public relations department. After the accident, she accepted a full-time job as head of public relations and fund-raising. That allowed her to gain insight into the inner workings of the museum...including some of its vulnerabilities.”
“She has a degree in fine art, and she’d always had a passion for art,” Chelsea murmured. “Joel said that in her youth, she’d dreamed of being an artist.”
Sam nodded. “Through one of the museum events she organized, she met a wealthy Saudi prince. He was very urbane, Americanized, as she described it. I expect she was still a very beautiful woman, and he wooed her...that was her word for it. She arranged for a private tour in exchange for a sizable donation to the museum. The prince, reportedly, had an extensive private collection in his home in the United Arab Emirates, but he developed a fascination with some of the works at the museum. When he asked if it would be possible to purchase those pieces, Mrs. Sinclair remembered that she’d laughed at his audacity. He was very accustomed to having anything he wanted. In retrospect, she believes that her response fueled his desire for the pieces he coveted. By then, she was completely enthralled by the prince. They started seeing each other, and he lavished her with attention and gifts.”
“This all sounds like a fairy tale. Joel never mentioned anything about his grandmother dating a prince. In fact, he’d always wondered why she never married again.” Chelsea felt sad. “I thought it was because Joel’s grandfather was her one great love.”
“Obviously, that wasn’t the case. I don’t think Joel knew about it. He was young and likely still struggling with the grief over the loss of his family. Anyway, Mrs. Sinclair came up with the plan. The prince provided two of his trusted men to execute it. They were part of his personal security team. Americans, but handpicked to ensure loyalty and discretion. And extremely well paid for their services. When they had the paintings, the prince let her choose four pieces as a reward. Those are the other ones we saw in her basement. Once he had what he wanted, he broke off the relationship.”
“He used her!” Chelsea exclaimed, indignant on Mrs. Sinclair’s behalf.
“That’s her take on it. She had her art but, of course, couldn’t share it with anyone. As much as she regretted her actions afterward, she couldn’t go to the authorities because she was fully culpable. She could no longer work at the museum for fear of inadvertently revealing her role in what had happened. To further ensure her silence, the prince gave her a large sum of money, which she used to leave Cambridge and open her gallery here.”
“So why the forged paintings? How do they figure into all of this, and what’s Adam Rochester’s role in it?”
“She had these priceless works of art, but she couldn’t share them with anyone nor could she sell them. The Manet was her favorite. She liked it so much that she wasn’t satisfied with seeing it only occasionally when she indulged herself by spending time in her private vault. She commissioned a replica. Through her connections, she found an artist who’s highly skilled and was known not to be too scrupulous about the assignments he accepted, if he was well paid. He replicated the painting for her. He worked from high resolution photographs.”
“That’s how it started?”
Sam nodded.
“How
on earth did she and Adam get together, and why involve the gallery?”
“When the gallery began to flounder and not turn the profit it had in its earlier years, she was having trouble supporting herself, the large house she had, and the lifestyle and charitable giving she’d grown accustomed to while the prince’s money lasted. I gather that having a lot of money had become integral to her sense of self-worth. She had in her possession stolen art worth tens of millions of dollars that she couldn’t sell, even if she wanted to. The pieces she’d acquired through legal means she couldn’t bear to part with, either.
“When Joel confided in her about Adam’s drug problem, and his concern that he couldn’t get him to seek help, Mrs. Sinclair offered to see what she could do. It was through her discussions with Adam that she discovered how severe his addiction was, and that he’d been stealing and selling items from his uncle’s store to support his habit. But he always ensured that his aunt and uncle recouped the amounts from their insurance company. Adam didn’t want to see them hurt. He also realized that he couldn’t keep doing what he was because, sooner rather than later, the insurance company would catch on.”
“And what about the forgeries?”
“It was Mrs. Sinclair who came up with the idea of selling originals on the black market and the forgeries through the gallery, thereby doubling the take on the paintings. She preyed on Adam’s addiction to ensnare him, to force him to help her. The artist she’d used to replicate the Manet was more than willing to join in. He was also able to replicate some of the jewelry from All That Glitters and Shines, so the replicas could be sold in the store and the originals fenced.”
“But art can’t be fenced the way jewelry can, am I right?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes, you are. Which explains why the private show space was created in the warehouse. That’s where they’d show the original pieces to black-market buyers.”
“But how could they get away with that?”
“Until the Babineux, they’d gone for more moderately priced pieces. Ones for which insurance companies wouldn’t require authentication.”
“Why didn’t they stay with that if it was working?” Chelsea still couldn’t believe she wasn’t in the middle of a bad nightmare.
“Mrs. Sinclair needed money and so did Adam. She wasn’t willing to part with her works of art. In fact, if I read her correctly, her collection had become an obsession and she wanted to add to it. As for Adam, his addiction drove him. Out of desperation, Mrs. Sinclair reached out to the prince to see if he’d give her more money, but he categorically refused. More than twenty years had passed since she’d last spoken to him. He saw her as ancient history and no longer of interest. To him, she was an old woman with no value. When she threatened to go to the police, despite her own role in the Thompson heist—telling him she’d claim that she’d been coerced—he still refused to give her cash. But to ensure her ongoing silence, he offered her one of the Thompson paintings that he personally had grown tired of.”
“The Tempest on the Ocean?”
“That’s right.”
“Why was it shipped to the warehouse, instead of her home?”
“Good question. She wanted to have it replicated, so she could have the original in her vault but the replica on her walls for others to admire.”
“And I found the painting before it had been transferred to her private collection.”
“So it seems. And after it had been replicated.”
“What happened to everything else I’d seen in the warehouse?”
“That first night you entered, Adam was there. He’d recognized your car and had seen you inside, too, through the window.”
“The footprints I saw in the snow were his?”
“Correct. Mrs. Sinclair instructed him and the artist, who was using the space to replicate the works, to empty the warehouse. I caught Adam when he was there to move everything out of the warehouse, which is why he needed Joel’s SUV. The crates wouldn’t fit in his car. But I interrupted him and he was spooked. He was afraid to come back the same evening, worried about possible surveillance, but he did return in the middle of the following night.”
“After I left?”
“Yes. A couple of hours later.”
Chelsea nodded slowly, trying to absorb everything she’d heard.
“Occasionally they received legitimate shipments there, so Adam rekeyed the warehouse at Mrs. Sinclair’s behest, to prevent Joel from accidently discovering what they were doing.”
“But Mr. Hadley had the new key, too. Is he part of all this?”
Sam shook his head. “No, he isn’t. Mrs. Sinclair had to give him a key for those times when the warehouse had to be accessed for legitimate purposes. She trusted he wouldn’t use it unless she asked him to. And they could ensure that there was nothing amiss anytime she needed him to go there. When I asked how they would have handled it if Joel had confronted them about the lock having been rekeyed, she admitted that they hadn’t thought that through, but would have come up with something, if the need arose. Fortunately for them, he hadn’t and they were looking for a new place from which to operate.”
“They could have gotten away with what they were doing, but ultimately greed got the better of them.”
“Perhaps,” Sam acknowledged.
“Now what? I mean, what about the rest of the stolen pieces, the ones that are still in the prince’s possession?”
“The FBI is working on it. They’ll have to jump through some international hoops, but my bet is they’ll get the paintings back.”
“And the prince? What about him?”
Sam shrugged. “I doubt they’ll be able to extradite him, since he’s part of the royal family. He’ll never be able to set foot on US soil again, but there likely won’t be major consequences for him.”
“And how does any of this connect with the robbery at All That Glitters and Shines?”
“Good question. I’d originally thought that the break-in was intended to test police-response times for a more significant robbery. That’s what got me looking at the gallery to begin with. But that’s not what was going on at all. The morning of the robbery, Adam had been out all night. He was low on money and needed a fix. He simply wanted to steal a few pieces of jewelry that he could quickly fence, which is why he didn’t take any of the most valuable pieces. He also figured his uncle would recover the cost from the insurance company.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Adam hurt his uncle?”
Sam nodded. “He said he didn’t intend to. When he found his uncle there, Adam claims he panicked. Quite likely, as he hadn’t used for a while. He said hitting his uncle was an accident, and when he realized what he’d done, he tripped the panic alarm. He said he wanted to make sure his uncle would get medical help fast. My opinion is that it wasn’t accidental, but it wasn’t premeditated, either. It was impulsive, and it was rage and disgust at himself for hurting his uncle that then drove him to cause such extensive damage in the store.”
Chelsea shook her head. “I can’t believe all this. I never would have thought it possible of Adam or Mrs. Sinclair.”
Sam looked sheepish. “I briefly wondered if you could’ve been responsible for the jewelry store robbery, because of the way you burst onto the crime scene. There are many documented cases of perpetrators returning to the scene, and...well...it seemed so unusual for you to storm into the store the way you did...”
Chelsea couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m glad you only wondered about that for a brief time. But Adam came to the store, too!”
“Yes, he did,” Sam acknowledged. “But we contacted him at his uncle’s behest.”
“It’s all very distressing,” Chelsea murmured. Her heart broke for Mrs. Sinclair, in particular. Had she done what she did for the love of a man or had it been about greed all along? Love must have bee
n the original motivation, Chelsea decided, and how sad for Mrs. Sinclair to discover that her love was unrequited.
“Well, it’s over,” he said, obviously trying to draw her out of her melancholy mood.
She forced a smile. “I know. Believe me, I’m glad. And relieved.”
“Then what’s wrong? Talk to me,” he encouraged, when she remained silent.
“I feel sorry for Mrs. Sinclair.” She raised one hand before he could respond. “I know what she did was illegal, but I can’t help feeling sorry for her. She’s seventy-eight. The thought of her going to jail at that age... She’s always been kind and considerate to me. She gave me an opportunity at the gallery when I had no experience.”
“You have a soft heart, Chelsea.” He leaned closer and brushed his lips gently across hers. “There’s a line between right and wrong. When someone steps over it, there have to be consequences.”
“Wouldn’t it be enough for her to give the paintings back? Perhaps make a donation to the museum?” Chelsea scratched at the handle of her coffee mug. “Yeah. I know that won’t do it,” she said grudgingly.
“There’s something else bothering you. I can see it. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I suppose I’m feeling lost. Rudderless, so to speak.” She smiled weakly. “You know how I’ve been working toward being the next curator of the gallery?”
He nodded.
“That’s how I’ve always lived my life. I set a goal and work toward it. It’s always been important to me to be goal-oriented.” She sighed heavily. “I loved the Sinclair Gallery. From the day I started there, I dreamed of being its curator. I’ve worked hard to prove myself. Mr. Hadley was supportive and encouraging. With less than two years to his retirement, I was sure I’d be ready and the gallery would be mine to run.” She lifted her hands, let them drop into her lap again. “Now? I have no idea what’ll happen to the gallery. Joel called me after he left Mrs. Sinclair’s house. He’s heartbroken about his grandmother.” She angled her head. “He isn’t involved, is he? I don’t think he knew what his grandmother was doing.”