“You’re sure the bill came from her and not someone else?”
“Positive. I stopped at the market on the way home. I don’t usually carry hundreds. The money was in an envelope I put in my shoulder bag, and I spent it within the hour. While we’re on the subject, I’ve already done the job and put my report in the mail, if it’s relevant. You think this same woman stole the painting?”
“Possible,” he said. He squinted at me in delayed disbelief. “You did a job for a hundred bucks?”
“Oh, sorry. She offered five, but that was too much, given what I’d been asked to do. I suggested two, and that’s what she ended up paying me.”
“Still sounds like a bargain.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I hesitated and then said, “Crap. I guess you might as well have the other hundred. You’ll ask for it anyway.”
I reached into my shoulder bag and removed the envelope from the outer pocket, holding it by one corner. “My prints are on this, but so are hers. Run ’em and you might get a hit in case she turns out to be a criminal mastermind.”
He smiled. “I’ll mention that to the techs. Chances are she came by the cash the same way you did, but maybe we can track it back to the source.”
“Meanwhile, what? I’m out the money?”
“I’m afraid so. The supermarket lost out, too, if you want to get right down to it. The bill you passed, they turned over to us without recompense. At least you got groceries out of the deal.”
“I hope they don’t take it out of Suzanne’s pay,” I said.
“Depends on store policy. I’m guessing not.”
I thought about his story. “You said this was two years ago. I wonder why the money’s showing up now?”
“No idea.”
“But clearly someone’s been sitting on it, right?”
“Theoretically, yes. Some of it could have been circulated in other parts of the country. We have no way of knowing that.”
“Bad paper’s a bitch,” I said. “You need anything else?”
“Nope. What about you? Any questions?”
“I’d like a receipt for that bill, which I’m assuming will be booked in as evidence.”
“Oh, right.”
I watched while he fashioned a receipt, writing down the date and serial number before he passed it across the desk to me. “I hope your client makes good on the loss,” he said.
“Hey, me too, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Probably smart. In the meantime, this is a sensitive operation, so steer clear if you would.” He stirred and stood up.
I stood at the same time.
He said, “We appreciate your cooperation. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Not your fault. If I hear from her again, I’ll be happy to let you know.”
He pointed to the phone number on his business card. “That’s my private line. You need me, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. I’m currently on loan to an FBI/ATF task force. Technically, the PD’s not involved, and they want to keep it that way. You call the department looking for me, they’re going to play dumb.”
“Got it,” I said. We shook hands again, as though closing a deal. “Thanks for the backstory. You didn’t have to put me in the loop on this.”
“We’d be grateful for any help.”
The minute I heard the door close behind him, I opened Hallie’s file again and tried her home phone in Malibu.
After three rings, I got a message saying the number was not in service. Odd. I tried her husband’s two office numbers with the same result. I could feel the mental punctuation form above my head: a question mark and an exclamation point.
10
I leaned back in my swivel chair and put my feet on the desk while I did a quick assessment. Hallie didn’t strike me as a high-end art thief, but what did I know? She’d told me her husband didn’t have a job, so maybe this was his way of generating income—stealing art and trading it back to the rightful owner in exchange for a “reward.” Detective Nash had suggested I leave the matter to law enforcement, but he hadn’t forbidden me to do anything. Not that a clever course of action occurred to me. For now, the situation was irksome, but not pressing. True, I’d done the work and shipped off my report. Also true, groceries aside, I was no longer in possession of the cash I’d been paid. Added to that annoyance was the fact that the phone numbers she’d given me were duds. On the plus side, I knew where she lived, so she’d have a tough time dodging me once she returned in June. Worst-case scenario, I’d wait until then, explain the difficulty, and ask to be reimbursed. If she’d been the inadvertent recipient of marked bills, she’d be as irritated as I was to hear the cash was now evidence in a criminal case. Even if she felt no obligation to make good, I was only out a hundred bucks. I wanted what I was due, but with a shitload of money in the bank, I wasn’t desperate.