Chapter 13

Tom felt out his depth…which was not a good feeling for a cop to have.

It was this case. As odd as it may seem, he preferred dealing with the lowlifes and scum of human society. Those assholes he could figure out, which meant he could decipher any clues they left behind at a crime scene and use them to make a collar. It meant he could rely on his network of CIs—criminal informants—to be his eyes and ears on the street, and provide him information about who might have done what. It also meant that—being smarter than the average criminal—he always found his perps, and was able to have one of the highest case clearance rates in the department.

But this case…?

He felt like a novice swimmer who had just dived into the deep end of the pool.

Some rich woman decided she wanted to pull off an art heist, and now he had to find her! Which meant dealing with two things he had very little understanding about: rich people, and women.

And then there was how the mystery woman had set the whole thing up. Very clandestine, very shadowy…using high-tech gadgets that were untraceable, never actually meeting with her patsies, and obviously having the resources and connections needed to not only find those five guys she hired, but to learn everything there was about the San Diego Museum of Art in order to pull the caper off.

To Tom, it was like something out of a James Bond movie. And he would be the first to admit that he was just a simple cop who liked beer and hot dogs, and who needed his ten-year-old nephew to help him change the ringtone on his phone. In other words, he didn't deal with James Bond-type shit. In those movies, guys like him either didn't exist or got blown away by the evil mastermind criminal within the first ten minutes.

Finally, there was Emily…the non-cop he was stuck with who had somehow been able to see things about this case all the real cops hadn't been able to see. It was a little disheartening, quite frankly, not to mention somewhat emasculating—especially since Emily acted as if every point she made should have been clearly obvious to everyone else.

He might feel a little better about that if he had been able to sleep with her, but apparently that was an impossibility, given her predilections.

Not that he would have had much of a chance if she was straight, anyway, he knew. He was beer and hot dogs; Emily was Champagne and caviar. Her agreeing to sleep with him would be like when idiot rich people pretend to be homeless for a night as part of one of those ridiculous charity stunts…

Slumming it.

He and Emily were back at the museum, in the security command center. Emily had suggested they return here because they had better video equipment than the station house.

The museum was closed to the public until further notice, which was good because technically it was still a crime scene. Nonetheless, Tom knew his lieutenant had been getting questions from the big muckety-mucks here about when they would be allowed to reopen it.

That poor schlub Erwin—head of security—was with them. Tom wondered if Erwin's head was on the block…if after the investigation, he was going to get the axe. Granted, the guy had been fooled by some sophisticated criminals, but still…the theft had happened on his watch. While Erwin had been sitting in this room on his fat ass, thieves had been ripping off his museum under (or rather above) his nose.

Also in the room with them was Lydia Gennaro, the director of the museum. She was about sixty, Tom guessed, thin, well-dressed in an elegant suit, and wasn't afraid to show the gray in her hair, which he respected.

On the monitors in the room was all the available footage from yesterday, going back an hour before the five patsy robbers showed up. Each camera's footage was on a separate monitor, labeled with that camera's location…Lobby, Gallery 12 North, Rotunda Lower Level, etc.

Emily was in charge—never mind the fact that Tom was the one who had the badge. She was sitting next to Erwin at the command console, instructing him on which camera's footage to play, and when. Tom, meanwhile, had a list provided by Lydia of the names of all the women who had gained entry into the museum yesterday, prior to the robbery, using a card or membership pass. He had already faxed the list to the station house. Andie had gotten back there by now, and she was going to run criminal checks on all of the names. Hopefully, Known Art Thief would come back on one of them…but Tom knew that would only happen if his luck—over his entire life—changed.

He was watching the current footage playing—from a camera in Gallery 18—while standing behind Emily.

Suddenly…

"Is there a camera with another angle on this woman?" Emily asked Erwin.

She tapped the screen of the largest monitor, right on the image of a red-haired woman who was sitting on a bench, looking at a painting. Whoever it was had been sitting there for a while, Tom had noticed.

Erwin pressed some buttons on his console. Soon the footage on the monitor changed, and they were now able to make out the woman's face.

"See something?" Tom asked.

"Can you freeze it, Erwin?" Emily said to the security chief.

Erwin complied, and the playback was paused. Emily tapped the screen again.

"That's Priscilla Kroyn, isn't it?" she asked.

Lydia leaned closer to the screen.

"Indeed," she said. "Ms. Kroyn is a frequent patron of the museum…not to mention one of our greatest benefactors. She comes in at least twice a week when she's in San Diego."

"I don't know why I didn't notice her before in any of the other footage…" Emily said thoughtfully.

"Because we're looking for an art thief," Tom cracked.

Even he knew who Priscilla Kroyn was…and she was no art thief.

In this internet/social media age, gazillionaires like that were all celebrities in their own right, especially when they looked like Priscilla Kroyn, whom Tom always thought was a babe. What's more, this was San Diego, and the Kroyn name was huge here because this was where she ran her empire. She and Angela Claus—another female bazillionaire in this city—were practically idols to this town's women, and together had more clout than the mayor.

And there was more…

Off-duty cops often took on private security gigs in their spare time to supplement their incomes. This usually took the form of bodyguard work for high-value clients, or organizing security for the type of hoity-toity parties rich people threw. As such, Tom had actually met Priscilla Kroyn before, when he had been part of a supplemental protection detail for a party at her mansion.

He pointed at the monitor screen…

"What does she do, just sit there?" he asked Gennaro.

The museum director nodded.

"That painting is The Rialto Bridge, by Guardi," Gennaro answered. "Ms. Kroyn has a particular fondness for it."

Tom rolled his eyes. He wasn't what one would call a big museumgoer, but he knew if he was, he wouldn't just sit in front of one painting the entire time.

"Her name wasn't on that list you provided us, though," Emily pointed out.

Lydia Gennaro gave a soft chuckle.

"We tend to let Ms. Kroyn walk right in," she said. "I don't think you understand how important she is to this museum. She's on the board of directors, she donates a lot of money to us, and there are currently seven paintings in this building on loan from her. Her face is enough to grant her admission."

"Totally understand," Emily said.

"In fact, I received a phone call from her today." Gennaro said. "She has generously offered to donate another painting from her collection to the museum until we get The Young Shepherdess back."

"Is that so?" Emily said, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Yes," Gennaro replied. "A splendid Corot portrait. We're having a hastily put-together party in the auditorium Sunday night to celebrate it. Kind of a way to ease the sting of our loss."

"Any chance I can get an invitation to that party, Lydia?" Emily asked. "The company I work for insures a lot of Ms. Kroyn's collection. Also, she's a major player in the art world. It might be useful for me to talk to her and ask if she could make use of her contacts to keep an ear out for news about your missing painting."

"I don't see why not," Gennaro replied. "That's a very good idea. I happen to know The Young Shepherdess is one of Ms. Kroyn's favorite works of art. She must be devastated that it's been stolen—as we all are. I'll add your name to the list right now."

Tom wanted a beer.

Great!

Another civilian mixed up in this investigation! And with Priscilla Kroyn's pull in this town, it wouldn't surprise him if the mayor appointed her temporary police chief until the case was cleared.

Of course, thinking about it now, he considered that might not be such a bad idea.

At least it would get him off the case…