Restoreth My Soul (Psalm 23 Mysteries)

  The rabbi nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything.

  “Now that we have her in custody and she’s facing a very long prison sentence for murder, kidnapping, and anything else we can make stick, I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to cooperate with us and tell us where she has stashed the Rubens she stole.”

  Katrina snarled, all defiance, but Mark was pretty sure she would cave once Albert got her to Germany. That is, if he was allowed to leave with her. She had committed the murders and the kidnapping here in this country. At least that was something he didn’t have to sort out. It was above his pay grade and he was glad of it.

  “We do have another Rubens that we found. Heinrich clearly realized someone was about to kill him when he got rid of it,” Jeremiah said.

  “That is a wonderful thing then,” Albert said.

  Mark noticed Jeremiah left out the fact that he’d had it hidden in the closet of his office when Albert had paid him his little visit.

  “Why did she kill Heinrich? She and her partner were desperate to figure out where he stashed his stuff. They’d been clearly following him for a while. Why not wait a little longer?” Cindy asked.

  “That’s a question for her,” Albert said. “What happened, Katrina. Did you grow tired of waiting for the old man to lead you to his treasures?”

  “I didn’t kill him,” she hissed.

  “So, your partner then?”

  “No. He would have led us to the art eventually. All we had to do was wait and we were prepared to wait as long as we had to.”

  “So, you deny killing him but not the art restorer? Interesting,” Mark said. “Strange, but interesting.”

  “I didn’t kill Heinrich,” she insisted.

  “If not you, then who?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “She’s lying,” Albert said. “No matter. We will soon find out all we need to from her, including who tipped her off about the painting in the first place.”

  “Heinrich kills Haverston because of the painting. Katrina kills the art restorer and steals the painting. Presumably she or her partner killed Heinrich as well.

  “And then someone shot and killed her partner,” Albert said.

  “That would be me,” Jeremiah said.

  Mark saw Cindy jerk and turn to stare at Jeremiah. She had to have guessed that already, though.

  “I guess it’s all over then,” Liam said.

  Mark started to nod.

  Cindy blinked at him. “Nothing’s over. We still don’t know where any of the rest of the art, if there is any, might be. And then there’s the Amber Room.”

  Albert held up his hand. “Better you leave that to the authorities, the experts, ja?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll leave it alone if you can tell me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Who shot Jeremiah?”

  Cindy continued to stare at Albert, but he just looked at her with a blank expression. “When was he shot?” he finally asked.

  She turned and stared at Katrina who shook her head. “I do not know who shot him.”

  Cindy looked at Mark whose brow was furrowed. Next she turned to Jeremiah whose face was like a mask.

  She cleared her throat. “You see, this isn’t over yet. There’s someone else out there and they’re willing to kill to protect their identity.”

  “At least two people,” Jeremiah said quietly. “The shooter wasn’t the one driving the car.”

  Cindy set her jaw. “Until they’re brought to justice this is anything but over and we are all still in danger.”

  Everyone just sat, staring around the room at each other. “Don’t you see?” she demanded. “We’re only partway there. And Katrina here has at least one other partner. There was a third man wherever it was they were holding me. Just who was he?”

  “My bodyguard,” Katrina spoke up.

  “Where is he now?” Albert demanded.

  Jeremiah’s eyes shot to the door. Cindy saw something arcing through the air and a moment later there was a brilliant burst of light accompanied by a deafening explosion.

  19

  Mark’s head felt like it was going to explode. Pain seared through him but he couldn’t see or hear anything. He felt like he was tilting to the side, dizzy like he’d just got off the teacup ride at Disneyland that Traci loved so much.

  Traci.

  He was never going to see her again. He struggled to push himself up to a standing position, but he wasn’t sure he was succeeding. Something slammed into him and he toppled farther over, falling endlessly, until it seemed like he’d been falling forever.

  He hit the ground hard, striking his head a moment after his shoulder, and he was sure he cried out, but he couldn’t hear anything. Something kicked his leg and then a moment later something heavy landed on top of him. He felt something hot and warm spilling all over the back of his shirt.

  He tried to sit up, but whatever was on top of him was pressing him down. He shouted, but still couldn’t hear a thing.

  Then, suddenly, his vision and hearing returned, flooding him with sensory input. He was laying on the floor, his head an inch away from the leg of the table. He could hear shouting around him, a high pitched scream that he was guessing was Cindy.

  He struggled to sit up, still dizzy and disoriented. He turned to see what it was that had fallen on him and realized that it was Daniels. He had been stabbed in the throat. It had been his blood that he’d felt running down his shirt. His eyes were frozen open in death.

  Mark shouted and scrambled out from underneath him. The man’s body flopped onto the ground. He looked around frantically. Liam and Albert were slowly sitting up. Cindy was on her knees, swaying slightly. Both Katrina and Jeremiah were gone.

  He heard a roar coming from the back of the house and a minute later a streak of fur and fangs went hurtling past him and out the front door.

  “Captain!” Cindy shrieked and grabbing the edge of the table hauled herself to her feet. She tried to chase after the dog, staggered, hit the wall, bounced off it and kept going to the front door.

  Liam reached out to stop her, but she brushed him off and made it outside.

  “Flashbang grenade,” Albert said, hauling himself to his feet.

  “I bet you didn’t see that coming,” Mark said, even more angry at the German than he was at himself. “Now our killer is gone, two civilians, too, and a good officer is dead.

  “No, you are right. This took me by surprise as much as it did you,” Albert said shrewdly.

  It was official. Mark hated the man. He reached for his phone and swore when he realized that Katrina’s was missing.

  “Liam, call it in,” he said.

  “Where are you going?” Liam asked as Mark weaved his way toward the door.

  “To find Cindy and Jeremiah, what else do I ever do?”

  As it turned out he didn’t have far to go. Cindy was standing at the edge of the lawn staring up the street. There, walking toward them was Jeremiah, with the dog at his side.

  “What happened?” Mark questioned when Jeremiah reached them.

  “I lost them. I got a license plate, but I’m guessing the car was stolen,” Jeremiah said.

  And just his luck the one guy that had a chance of tracking down the car was dead.

  “How did you get on your feet so fast compared to the rest of us?”

  “It was only a second, it probably just felt like longer,” Jeremiah said, heading into the house.

  As soon as they were all inside Mark made a point of closing the door behind them. He turned and saw Jeremiah staring down at Daniels, his face inscrutable.

  “Sorry,” he said finally.

  “He was a good man,” Mark said with a growl.

  Within minutes there were police crawling all over Jeremiah’s home. It was more than irritating, but he sat on the couch next to Cindy, his arm around her, and watched the proceedings.

  “I’m so tired,” she w
hispered.

  “I know.”

  His arm felt like it was on fire. He refused to take any medication for it because he had started using the pain to help remain alert and focused.

  “I still think there’s someone else out there we don’t know about,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  “What are we supposed to do about that?”

  He sighed. “We should probably let the police handle it.”

  “Yes, because they’ve been doing such a good job so far,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything, just rubbed her shoulder. She leaned her head against him and he could feel her relax ever so slightly.

  “There’s no way I’m going into work tomorrow,” she said.

  “There’s no way I can’t,” he sighed.

  Finally Mark came over and sat down on Cindy’s other side. “So, the three of us agree this isn’t over,” he said very softly.

  Jeremiah nodded.

  “Right, there are a couple of killers on the loose. I want both of you to stay somewhere else until this is resolved.”

  “Like where?” Cindy murmured.

  “I’ve already worked it out. I’m going to send you to stay at Joseph’s. Your roommate, too, until this is done. He upgraded his security system last year. That entire place is probably safer than Fort Knox at this point. I’ve got a couple of officers to volunteer to stand guard as well.”

  “I have to go to the synagogue tomorrow,” Jeremiah said.

  “And since I knew you were going to be stubborn about that, I’ve got one who’s going to be hanging around the synagogue tomorrow.”

  “Great, a babysitter,” Jeremiah muttered. “No way to keep that secret from the congregation.”

  “Better than them finding out the hard way, like you getting killed in the middle of services. Now, grab what you need. I’m going to personally drive you both up there so I know you’re safe.”

  A few minutes later they were settled in the back of Mark’s car with Captain laying on the seat between them, his head on Jeremiah’s leg. Cindy was asleep within a couple of minutes, but Jeremiah stared out the windows the entire drive, making sure that no one was following them.

  When they finally turned up the hill to Joseph’s estate he was satisfied that no one had been watching them. They pulled up out front and Geanie ran outside and practically pulled Cindy out of the car. The two women embraced tightly as Jeremiah shook Joseph’s hand and Captain stood by his side.

  “Thanks for this.”

  “No problem. The three of you are more than welcome,” Joseph said as he bent down to scratch Captain behind the ears. “The guest rooms are all ready and you can stay as long as you need to.”

  Jeremiah just hoped that their presence didn’t put Joseph in danger, too.

  It was almost noon when Cindy woke up. She rolled over and looked at the clock, blinking in shock as she saw the time. She stretched and got out of bed. She brushed her teeth and got dressed. She opened her bedroom door to find Captain laying outside it. He looked up at her and whined. She reached down and scratched his chin.

  “Rough night, boy?” she asked.

  She headed down the long hallway, marveling as she always did, at Joseph’s family mansion. She finally made it to the stairs and Captain followed her down. She found Geanie and Joseph in the kitchen making lunch.

  “There you are!” Geanie said brightly.

  “I guess I was really out of it,” Cindy said sheepishly.

  “We all were. It was a long, stressful night for everyone,” Joseph said. “I didn’t get up until around ten.”

  “I was up even later,” Geanie said. “I’m in the room with that beautiful red canopy bed. The mattress was so soft I didn’t want to ever get up.”

  Cindy smiled to herself. Geanie was marrying Joseph in a few short months but it hadn’t yet hit her that this was going to be her mansion, too, when that happened.

  “Yeah, Jeremiah was the only one up early. The officer outside told me that his partner drove him in to work just before eight.”

  “He must be about to collapse,” Cindy murmured, feeling sorry for him. He had to get through today and tomorrow full of services before he’d catch a break for a day or two.

  “I called in to work for you,” Cindy said. “Sylvia said to take as much time as you need.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, she tried talking me into coming back to work,” Geanie said, wrinkling her nose up. “I told her no, but I did agree to go in after this is all over and do an exit interview, fill out some paperwork and stuff.”

  An exit interview, that should be interesting, Cindy thought, wondering what exactly Geanie would say.

  Mark was not having a good morning. He had done his best to get some sleep, but he kept waking up screaming and seeing Daniels’ face. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t help but think that he’d gotten the other man killed by involving him in everything.

  He had finally given up around six in the morning and driven into the precinct. He had pored over all his notes again, struggling to figure out who Jeremiah’s assailant had been.

  Albert had said the night before that it was clear that somebody had tipped off Katrina about the painting, either someone in his organization or someone connected to Haverston. Whoever that was, they might be behind Jeremiah’s shooting.

  He thought of what Katrina had said about Haverston’s father having been involved with the black market. He and Paul had heard that rumor back when they were investigating Haverston’s murder. There had been allegations, but never any proof. Whoever the old man had been connected to had been very discrete and it was equally clear that his son had worked to distance himself from those connections when he took over the business. Given that he’d called the authorities over the painting it was unlikely that he’d had a change of heart and also called in his father’s black market contacts.

  But it was entirely possible that someone else had known what he’d found or overheard him talking to the Germans and taken matters into their own hands. Possibly an employee, or a son who thought the grandfather’s way of doing business had been better.

  Mark blinked. He didn’t like Trevor. Was he jumping to him because it was the right conclusion or because it was the satisfying one? He started in on his sixth pot of coffee and contemplated the facts as he knew them.

  Whoever had shot Jeremiah had been in a car with diplomatic plates. Since Albert claimed it wasn’t him or anyone at the German consulate, that meant there were other international players involved. That screamed black market and high end merchandise to him. Was that who Trevor’s grandfather could have worked with? It was easier for diplomats to smuggle things out of the country than it was for U.S. citizens. If that was the case, though, was Katrina, herself Russian, working with the others or were they competitors? She had genuinely seemed to have no knowledge regarding Jeremiah’s being shot. That didn’t mean, though, that her confederates hadn’t just left her in the dark on that.

  He called Liam from his desk phone. When the other officer answered he said, “Yeah, can you meet me downtown at Haverston & Sons art gallery right now?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “Perfect. Stay outside, don’t go in without me unless you see something strange.”

  “Understood.”

  Mark took another swallow of coffee and then headed for the door.

  Jeremiah staggered into his office. There had finally been a break in the services, which was a blessing because he was just about to drop. He closed his eyes and tried to still his mind. He had to pay such close attention during the service that he hadn’t had a chance to really focus on G-d, particularly since he’d been paranoid that he would mess up because he was so tired.

  He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled his gun out. He slid it into the back of his waistband. He had brought it with him, aware that killers were still on the loose, but he hadn’t been able
to bring himself to take it into the synagogue.

  He glanced at the clock. He was expecting Albert any minute. He’d made arrangements with him the night before to surrender the Rubens he had to him. Frankly he’d feel a lot better when it was out of his hands and no longer his responsibility.

  He would be lying to himself, though, if he didn’t admit to having mixed emotions. His mother carried a hatred for the German people still for what the Nazis had done. She understood intellectually that the people who had done those terrible things were for the most part dead and gone and that the younger generations couldn’t be blamed for the sins of their elders. Still, he understood where the anger came from.

  And given all the art treasures stolen from the Jews by the Nazis, hundreds of thousands of which were still missing, it was indeed bitter sweet that the one he had found legitimately belonged to the German museum and wasn’t something that would be restored to one of his people.

  Restoration.

  That was the word Heinrich had written in his own blood with his dying breath. Had he known that the paintings didn’t belong to the Jewish people? Had he wanted them returned to their proper owners whoever those turned out to be?

  And why was it he had come to services that day and so urgently wanted to talk to him? Had the presence of Katrina or others in town prevented him from ever trying to connect again?

  Jeremiah pressed his fingers against his head. There were too many questions still, ones that would likely never be answered. Life was like that, though. One rarely got answers wrapped in neat little bundles with all the loose ends tied in bows. Life was messy and complicated and left all sorts of unresolved issues.

  Like what he was going to do about Cindy.

  He sighed, got up and retrieved the painting from where he had hidden it underneath the couch. It hadn’t been the world’s greatest hiding place, but he hadn’t had time to do better.

  He propped it up face first against the couch so that the back was facing him. He stared again at the second string of numbers, wondering what exactly they meant. Had Heinrich put them there or some museum cataloguer?