Three_Deception Love Murder Page 7

  “These are blood diamonds,” Aunt Mary said with great authority.

  “You don’t know that!” I snapped.

  “I watch PBS, NOVA, and saw that movie with Leonardo DiCaprio. Blood Diamonds.” She banged the table hard for emphasis and I nearly peed my pants from nerves.

  “Jesus, what should I do. Do I tell them what’s in here? Should I turn all this money over and sign it away? Or will they think I only cooperated because the jig was up and I’d been caught red-handed? You think they will arrest me on the spot? How will I make bail?” The questions were coming out rapid-fire. I pointed at the pile of currency and diamonds on the table. “Oh my God, whatever I do, this looks bad, Aunt Mary. Beyond bad.”

  “Pack it up. Put it in your bag. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  “W-what?” I yelled. “Are you nuts? This money isn’t mine, and I don’t want anything to do with it. What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled barely holding on by a thread.

  “Relax. Why are you worried? Even if it was yours, they can’t arrest you for keeping money in a box, Em,” she replied.

  “What if it’s stolen? What if it’s from an illegal enterprise? And I’m sure whoever put it here didn’t pay taxes on it, isn’t that how they caught Al Capone? Jesus, what should I do?” I clasped my heart and prayed for divine intervention.

  Aunt Mary hit the table with her hand causing me to jump. “Call Eloise. She’s a lawyer.”

  “No, I’m not getting her involved in this mess. Besides, she’s not a criminal lawyer. Let me think,” I said as I paced the room while I chewed my nail. “The lawyer I went to about the domestic partnership . . . they had someone on the sign that practiced criminal law. Here, give me my bag. Gimme, gimme.”

  She passed me my bag. I rummaged through it frantically and finally fished out the card Margaret had given me when I’d left her office.

  “My phone, damn it. Where is it?” Now in absolute panic mode I turned my bag out onto the floor. All the contents spilled out: comb, powder, everything. With quivering hands, I shoved everything around until I caught sight of my phone.

  After three failed attempts dialing the number, the call connected. A pleasant voice announced the law office. I caught my breath and stilled my mind quickly, then explained to the receptionist I had an emergency. She had the temerity to ask me what kind of emergency I had. I responded it was a federal prison kind of emergency. She put me on a brief hold which only heightened my anxiety. After what felt like hours, Margaret answered.

  Babbling led to rambling, and rambling led to crying, but Margaret could decipher enough of what was going on at the bank. She told me to calm down. I waited while she fetched Alexi Morgan, a criminal defense attorney, to join our conversation.

  Although I waited barely five minutes, it was enough time to work myself up into a total panic. This was not good at all. Aunt Mary grabbed the phone from me and asked Alexi to wait while I gathered myself.

  Finally, my lips moved without effort. Alexi introduced herself and informed me she had us on speaker while Margaret took notes. Waiting for me to start, she asked me to relay everything in sequence, and I did. I described what had occurred, whom I had spoken to, and to the best of my recollection what was said to whom. Aunt Mary included that someone had stolen my wallet yesterday.

  Alexi told me to take photographs of what we had arranged on the table, gave me an email address to send the pictures, and then waited.

  I heard the ping as the computer received the photos and a clicking of buttons as she opened the email. The sound of Alexi and Margaret letting out two long exhales on the other end was heard next. Right, I knew the feeling well.

  We heard a dull tap at the door of the bank’s private viewing room, and I jumped from my seat. It was Mr. Buren. “Dr. Collier, you have been in there a while. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said quickly to disguise the quiver in my voice.

  “Alert me when you are finished,” he said.

  “Will do,” I responded.

  I listened for him to shuffle away. When I was satisfied he’d left, I resumed my conversation. “What should I do? Should I turn the contents of the box over to them?”

  “Let me handle everything. Leave everything where it is and buzz the manager to come and make certain the FBI agent is with him when he returns,” she said.

  I pressed the button next to the door longer than I should, and within minutes a soft knock alerted me someone had heard my signal.

  “It’s Mr. Buren. Dr. Collier, are you finished?”

  I cracked the door open with Aunt Mary behind me to shield him from what was on the table. I asked him to get Agent Thomas and to return with him. Looking at me with millions of questions in his eyes he turned away and left. I promptly closed the door. Alexi then announced from the telephone that was on speakerphone on the table, “When they come in, tell them your attorney is on the phone. Ask them to address questions or requests to me, and you say nothing more.”

  Aunt Mary inquired, “Is she a skel?”

  I looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

  There was silence from the phone.

  Then, “Pardon?” Alexi asked.

  “You know, a perp?” Aunt Mary replied.

  There was a muffled laugh, the phone was muted shortly, and then noise could be heard again. “Oh, you mean a person of interest. We don’t know yet. I need to find that out when Agent Thomas returns. Mary, the instructions for silence includes you.”

  A rapid, loud knock on the door interrupted the conversation. I opened the door and invited Mr. Buren and Agent Thomas to enter. I had expected a serious surprise to register on Agent Thomas’s face. But his expression was unreadable as he looked first at me and then Aunt Mary.

  Alexi’s voice emanated from my phone on the table and gave him a start.

  “Gentlemen, good morning. My name is Alexi Morgan. I am an attorney here in Maine. After my client opened the safe deposit box and examined the contents you see on the table, Dr. Collier called our office for instructions. She has retained our firm to represent her so we can work through this matter expeditiously and efficiently with you. Although she intends to cooperate with you fully and completely, for now, I am advising her to make no statements. Your comments and questions will be directed to me. The contents speak for themselves. She has removed all items from the box and has not retained any of the property. We want you to take possession of the box and its contents and maintain whatever chain of custody you need for evidence. But, I want each item inventoried while she is there and before you take possession of it. You can either wait for me to drive there to witness the cataloguing of the box, or we can do so by video conference immediately.” Alexi’s voice was full of authority and command.

  “I have equipment in my car which will meet your requirement. If you give me a moment, I’ll send you the link if you have a secure server,” Agent Thomas said as he tapped his index finger on the table.

  “Agent, my practice is federal and state criminal law and I assure you I have a top-notch secure server,” she said.

  We waited while Agent Thomas placed a call. Within fifteen minutes, several people had set up the equipment in the room. A little while longer and we could see Alexi and Margaret on the video cam, and they could see us.

  Everyone introduced themselves for the record. Mr. Buren had retrieved a machine to count the currency. As the machine spat the money out twice, Agent Thomas put a paper band around each bundle and signed his initials. He placed each bundle of currency in separate bags and sealed it with thick blue tape. Then Agent Thomas, Mr. Buren, and I initialed each bag.

  Next, he identified and described the gold bars as yellow metal bars and then placed a number on a piece of tape on each bar. He weighed each, recorded the weight in kilograms, and put each in a separate bag. The three of us initialed each bag again. Stones counted and labeled, placed in a bag, and Agent Thomas alone initialed and taped the bag. As we watched, he record
ed each bag on an inventory sheet in triplicate and signed next to each item.

  As a witness, Mr. Buren initialed, and as box assignee, I initialed the sheet and a scanned copy was emailed to Alexi. As part of the inventory, Agent Thomas took photos and sent copies to Alexi. Aunt Mary and I signed a document to indicate we used the gloves provided and touched nothing with our hands. The gloves were marked as evidence and placed in a bag.

  The currency tallied, and the euros and pesos converted from the foreign currency to the US amount. Based on today’s market value the total cash amounted to $812,000.

  The gold bars were assigned a value of $126,000. Determination of the value of the stones remained an unknown until a gemologist appraised them. On the inventory paper, he described the stones as believed to be uncut diamonds worth approximately $100,000 after they were cut and polished.

  This would not be an in-and-out day as I had hoped. We agreed to meet at Alexi’s office tomorrow where Agent Thomas could get a full statement from me with my attorney present. She advised Aunt Mary and me to be there at nine, and Agent Thomas at ten which was agreeable to everyone.

  Because of the questionable nature of the box contents and we were all unsure what we had stepped into, Agent Thomas offered law enforcement protection. He called the Maine police to coordinate with Detectives Marino and Chavez to pick us up when we hit Maine, we gratefully accepted the protection.

  Detectives Marino and Chavez coordinated with Agent Thomas to meet us at the state line and escort us home. Marvelous. I was sure Marino was ecstatic over that news.

  As we headed out, Aunt Mary turned to me and deadpanned, “Now you will doubtlessly be considered a criminal. Can we officially go on the lam?”

  “Jesus, you want me to have a nervous breakdown, don’t you? You know I had entirely forgotten about Jude,” I said, looking at my phone for missed messages.

  “Good riddance,” she retorted.

  “No, Mary. That’s not good. This behavior is unusual for him. When we get home, I’ll talk to Detective Marino about this and see what he says,” I told her although it probably was best he was spared this chaos.

  “Chavez,” she suggested.

  I blew out a frustrated breath and asked, “Chavez what?”

  “Talk to Chavez. He’s the good cop to Marino’s bad cop. Marino wants to play the prick. Let him. Sidle up to Chavez. That will piss Marino off and mess with his control-freak head,” she said, pleased with herself.

  My response was an upward hand motion and a one-word response. “Whatever.”

  Marino and Chavez met us at the state line, and we said goodbye to our federal escorts. As predicted by Aunt Mary, Detective Marino looked as if he just had finished sucking on sour lemons.

  Chavez walked to Aunt Mary’s side of the car and gestured her to drop the window, and she obliged.

  “Ladies, we have you from here, and we want to take the back roads, so follow us and stay close,” he said.

  “Detective Chavez, I would feel safer if I rode in the car with you.” Aunt Mary winked at me.

  “Follow us, and you’ll be fine,” he chuckled and shook his head.

  “You going to say anything about the painting?” Mary whispered to me.

  “Let me talk to Alexi about it tomorrow first,” I responded as if I didn’t have enough on my plate.

  An hour and a half later, we pulled into the driveway and parked my car in the garage. Marino and Chavez walked around the house perimeter while we waited outside the garage bay for them to return.

  When Marino walked around the side of the house, he motioned for us to meet them at the door. I disabled the alarm, and we walked inside together.

  Marino went from room to room, securing the house. When he came back, he asked us to have a seat at the dining room table so he could make one final check of the downstairs area. Darkness engulfed the room. I opened the curtains to let what daylight was left to illuminate the room, which triggered Marino to close them at once without an explanation.

  “Ladies, I have pizza on the way courtesy of Maine State Police,” Chavez offered.

  “Well, Detective. If you are trying to win my heart, consider it done. Now, I like you a bunch, but I’m not much taken with that one,” Aunt Mary said looking at Marino who had taken Lucy out for a quick run. “We are going to make you our confidant. My niece needs to talk to you, so bring out that pen and pad of yours.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “Mary, call me Mary,” she said. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary—”

  “Mary, we aren’t allowed to take any statements about today from you. That is a federal matter,” he said.

  “This isn’t about the box,” Mary said, looking at me to continue.

  “Okay, what’s on your mind?” he said with raised brows. I noticed a heavier shadow on his face that had developed into more of a beard than scruff.

  I looked at him and then at Aunt Mary. “Jude, my boyfriend, partner, whatever you want to call him, left two days ago to pick up a painting at a gallery in Boston. He was to stop by the museum to take photos of a canvas they wanted him to restore and collect research material for me. I expected him home that night, and he hasn’t returned. I have texted, called and emailed. The calls go to voicemail, and my texts don’t show as being delivered or read.”

  “Do you have a Find Your Phone app activated on your phone?” Chavez asked.

  “We use different carriers. Also, I have an iPhone, and he has a Samsung. So, no,” I said.

  “Can you activate OnStar to locate his car?” he asked.

  “His name is on his car registration, so no, I have no way to track it,” I said.

  Now Chavez’s pad came out, and the click of the pen indicated he was ready to record information. At the same moment, Detective Marino walked back into the room.

  “What’s up?” Marino asked. His dark hair that was typically spiked and in place looked good after it was wind-blown.

  “Mr. White has been missing for at least a day almost two, and I’m taking down some information,” Chavez said and continued. “Who did he meet? Any address and phone number would be helpful.”

  “I have the name of the gallery, but will have to use Google for the address and phone number. And I’m sorry I don’t have his contact person at the gallery,” I said and gave him the name of the gallery. Marino googled it and then he stepped from the room to call the place.

  “What about the museum?” he asked.

  I offered him detailed information as I had occasionally visited with Jude when he did some restoration at the museum’s conservation room and knew the director.

  “As soon as Nick finishes on the phone with the gallery, I will give him these details and he can call the director and figure out a timeline,” he said. “Do you know what he was picking up at the gallery?”

  “No, his business with galleries is his business. Any discussions about the gallery and what he does have become don’t ask because he won’t tell. However, I am sure he had plans to pick something up because he left right from the house and not the studio,” I said.

  “The pieces in your home, are they from the gallery?” He wanted to know. I had a suspicion where this might lead but needed Alexi’s advice before I said what I thought.

  “I honestly don’t know. I know he does business with that gallery and several auction houses. The pieces and sculptures in here are from there. They stay for a while, and then he sells them, and new ones replace them,” I said.

  Detective Marino motioned for Chavez to leave the room with him. They went out on the back deck where they made and received calls from their phones and wrote on their notepads.

  The doorbell rang. I answered the door and collected the pizzas.

  A while later, Detective Marino and Chavez came back inside. As Marino sat and continued to text somebody, Chavez flipped the pizza boxes open and offered us slices. With no further invitation needed, Aunt Mary dove into the pizza box eliciting a head shake and laugh from Chavez.<
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  Marino finished texting and turned to us. “He picked up several paintings from the gallery. But they were very sketchy about what he picked up and what time he left. We might have to have a uniform follow up, but if Boston says it’s okay, I’ll head there myself. Dr. Dobson at the museum was helpful. He confirmed Mr. White stayed about an hour and a half taking photos of the painting. He discussed the restoration and a timeline for repair and ordered the paints he would need to work on the canvas. The director said he gave Mr. White a small box with research material for you. The museum director said he left at about eleven thirty for home. We’ve issued an all-points bulletin with Jude listed as a missing person,” Marino advised.

  “We will get a warrant to track his phone and his vehicle through OnStar. Next, do you have a recent picture?” he asked

  Pointing at a table behind him with several pictures I remarked, “The left one was from two years ago when we were in London. The Paris one is the most recent, but it’s tiny. And his hair is shaggier now with more blond highlights.”

  “This one will do if you don’t mind, I will snap it with my phone and send it off,” he said as he picked up the more recent photo. I agreed. He took the photo and then sat again to send the photo by email.

  “Now I need specific information,” he said as he glanced at the paintings in the room.

  “Even Steven. We’ll tell you something about dickhead, and you tell us something about yourselves,” Aunt Mary offered.

  Both detectives swiveled to look at her as if she had six heads.

  “Gentlemen, hold on one minute. It’s time for Mary’s medication. Excuse us while we get her that from her room. It will only take a moment.” I looked at Aunt Mary with a saccharine sweet smile and said, “Aunt Mary, please join me.”

  She turned and gave them the I’m watching you signal and then said, “I know exactly how many pieces are left and I call another sausage.”