CHAPTER 29

For all of Cassie’searlier bravado, she could feel her pulse racing as she pulled into Olga’s driveway. It was nearly nine-thirty now. The night sky was almost completely dark, with a few stars beginning to make their appearance alongside a sliver of moon.

Cassie parked and took several deep breaths to steady herself. She slipped her fingertips beneath the collar of her black polo shirt to touch the microphone wire that lay taped with white medical tape just below her collarbone.

She’d gone home to quickly change into the shirt along with a pair of jeans and sneakers, because she needed clothing to effectively hide the wire she was now wearing.

The synthesized audio transmitter, a small, thin black box—hardly bigger than a paperclip—was tucked inside the waistband of her jeans. Its antenna and the microphone wire ran vertically up her torso for optimum reception.

Wade had ridden with Cassie back to her place to change. On the way, he’d called Hugo as the chief had requested. Hugo happened to be with Ani for a movie night, and from Hugo’s side of the conversation, Ani soon figured out what was going on. Wade and Hugo switched to speakerphones, and Cassie could clearly hear Ani whining in the background. “Can’t I do a ride-along when you guys bust Olga? Puh-leeeze!”

“No, Ani,” Wade had been firm.

“Hey, Ani,” Cassie called out. “How about if Hugo drops you off at my place? Then I’ll tell you everything as soon as we get back. Mark and Rachel are out of town, so you can babysit Angel for me while I do this. She’d love the company.”

“Oh, fine,” Ani grumbled. “No offense, Angel!” she’d added. The little dog had cocked her head and barked at the sound of her name.

Now, Cassie was here at Olga’s, while Wade, Hugo, and Zack sat in a car less than a quarter of a mile up the road, listening in.

She still couldn’t believe that sweet old Olga was an integral part of a national art smuggling ring. But she had to put this fact out of her mind. For the plan to work, it was imperative that Cassie act as natural as possible. She had to make sure she didn’t treat Olga any differently than she always did.

“Okay, guys, I’m going in,” she said in a low voice, and got out of her car. She moved to the back and opened the trunk. The painting was not large, measuring less than three feet wide and a little more than two feet tall. Zack had repackaged everything back inside the wooden crate.

Cassie pulled it out and slammed the trunk shut, then carried it to the front door and knocked. She had called Olga a short while ago to let her know she was coming, and within moments Cassie heard the sound of the walker rolling toward the front entrance.

The door swung wide and Olga stood there, looking as chic as ever. Her soft silver hair swept into its usual neat French twist. She wore a pale blue silk blouse that accentuated the color of her eyes, along with a pair of flowy, cream-colored pants.

“Wow, you look pretty tonight, Olga,” Cassie said, stepping inside. “Have you got a hot date or something?”

Olga laughed. “Not tonight, beautiful! Sometimes it’s just nice to wear the clothes that I can’t wear when I’m painting. Plus, I’m celebrating the return of the painting. Come join me for a glass of champagne.”

Cassie held up the crate. “Where would you like me to put it?”

“Carry it to my studio worktable, please. I want to check that it hasn’t been damaged.” She led the way back to her studio, and turned on bright standing floor lights, aiming them at the easel in front of her chair.

Cassie set the crate on the nearby worktable while Olga moved into the kitchen area and pulled out a second champagne glass from her cupboard. She poured the bubbly, golden liquid into a glass to match her own and handed it to Cassie.

“Here’s to a job well done, Cassandra!” Olga said, raising her glass toward Cassie. “I’m so grateful for your tenacity. You’ve literally saved my reputation!” Cassie smiled, clinking her glass against Olga’s before they each took a sip.

“Now, tell me all about how you found my painting,” Olga said. “I want all the details.” She’d picked up a small hammer and laid it on the seat of her walker before rolling herself over to the worktable where the crate sat.

Cassie shared the details of spotting Brett at the park with the package and the ensuing car chase. But she carefully left out any of Wade’s involvement. While she spoke, she watched Olga use the claw side of the hammer to remove the nails holding the crate together. Cassie watched her remove the protective foam padding and fought to keep her voice calm as Olga carefully lifted out the painting and set it on the easel. Olga put on her magnifying eyeglasses and began examining it.

Cassie tried to act casual. Dropping into a chair at the kitchen table, she took another small sip of her champagne. “The police have a “Be On the Lookout” order for Brett now. And I’m sure they’ll catch him, Olga.”

“That’s good to hear,” Olga murmured, her gaze moving over the painting, inch by inch. “It appears to be fine. But I’ll keep it overnight and do a more thorough inspection in the morning. I think—” Suddenly she stopped talking.

Cassie glanced over and saw that she was inspecting the bottom right-hand corner of the painting. She looked at where Olga’s eyes were focused and saw that the upper painting had shifted slightly, a miniscule section of The Concert that was hidden underneath was showing.

Cassie’s heart began to pound as she watched Olga straighten and move back over to the disassembled wooden crate. She examined it closely, then turned to Cassie with an odd expression on her face. “Tell me something, beautiful,” she said slowly. “Who re-crated the painting after you found it?”

Cassie could tell there was no point in denying it, and she also knew she couldn’t tell the truth, that Zack had done it. So she said, “I did,” and sat up straighter in her chair, readying herself to press on with the plan. “I could tell the crate had been tampered with. I’m guessing Brett must have opened it up to look at the painting. So, after I picked it up from the station, I resecured it for you.”

Cassie continued. “Also, I wanted to make you an offer, Olga. After everything that’s happened, I would like to personally hand deliver this package to your client for you. I’ll do it on the side so there won’t be any PCS record of it. That way, nobody but you and I know I’m delivering it. And there’s no chance that Brett or anyone else will try to steal it.”

Olga was silent, but a strange light glimmered in the depths of her blue eyes.

“You know how important it is for me to do a good job for you, Olga,” she continued, feeling like she was starting to babble. “I feel responsible for all of this, and I’d like to make it up to you by—”

“Cut the crap.” Olga’s icy words sliced like a knife blade through Cassie’s chatter. Olga waved one hand toward the painting. “It’s clearly been tampered with.” She moved closer to Cassie, who resisted the urge to stand up and back away.

“I know you’ve seen it.” Olga’s eyes were hard now, glinting like blue ice chips.

Even though Cassie now knew the truth about Olga, the sudden change in her usual warm and friendly demeanor was shocking. Cassie’s mind whirred as blood rushed to her head. She forced herself to breathe slower. To think. Then she made a quick decision. Change of plan, boys.

She got up from her chair and walked over to the painting, staring at it for a long moment before turning to face Olga. “Yes, I have seen it,” her voice was hard, confident. “And I can’t believe you would ever have allowed an idiot like Brett to pressure you into letting him in on your deal.”

Olga narrowed her eyes, but Cassie powered on. “He was bragging about it, Olga. He talked all about a special art delivery job he had going on the side. He said it would bring him a boatload of money—that he’d probably be quitting his job at PCS in the very near future.

Olga turned her head aside and made a small sound of exasperation.

“Since I knew that Brett had stolen this painting, I was suspicious. So, after the police released it to me, before I brought it here, I took it home and examined it. And that’s how I found The Concert underneath it,” she said, her voice getting stronger as the lies flowed from her lips. “And remember when I told you that I caught him researching art thefts at work? Well, I saw a photograph of The Concert on his phone. A quick Google search, and it didn’t take me long to put two and two together—to realize that this was the secret art delivery Brett was bragging about.”

Olga’s face was pale and her lips were tight as she sank into the chair that Cassie had vacated. “Yes, somehow the fool figured out my entire plan. And I was forced to cut him in on the deal.” She sat in silence for a long moment while Cassie held her breath. Finally, she said, “Well, Cassandra, what do you plan to do about this?”

Cassie crossed the room to stand in front of Olga. “Exactly what I just told you. Brett tried to steal this from you, Olga. And he really screwed up everything. He can’t be trusted. Let me take his place. Let me hand deliver it to your client. All I ask is that you give me Brett’s cut.” She went on, “And like I said before, we’ll keep this a completely private deal between you and me. You know me, Olga. And you know my work. You know you can trust me to get this done right. I can leave now and drive straight through the night to wherever your client is located. Just give me the address and I’ll make certain the painting gets directly to whomever it is.”

Cassie waited, hoping she was playing it well enough that Olga was buying all of this.

She was silent for several long moments. Then Olga suddenly smacked a hand hard against the table, making her jump. “This has gotten totally out of hand,” she hissed. She looked up at Cassie, her eyes tight. “All right, Cassandra. We’ll do it your way. But we have one problem that needs to be resolved first.”

“What is it?”

Olga got up and rolled over to the kitchen counter and pulled open a drawer. “This is my retirement plan that you’re messing with. And Brett still knows about everything. I’m not willing to split my cut from this deal any more than I already have. So, if you want Brett’s share, Cassandra, you’re going to have to do something for me.” Olga reached inside the drawer, but just then, there was a soft tap at the sliding glass door opposite Olga’s easel. The two women looked over to see Brett standing there, staring at them through the glass.