Derek gave a tight nod. “Burbank’s not rich. He is an art dealer, so it stands to reason that he has a few decent pieces in his place. But Eric Hu never set foot in that apartment, and his company never serviced Burbank’s computers. So how would they know?”
“Let’s play devil’s advocate. Let’s say they read or overheard something that made them think Burbank had more than he did, and that they tipped off Xiao Long, who had his gang break in and rob the place.”
“Fine. So they saw the Monet and ripped it off. Makes sense. Monet’s famous, even though you said it wasn’t one of his well-known works. But they’re not connoisseurs. So they grabbed it, along with a bunch of other pieces that had more sentimental than actual value. In addition to that…” For the tenth time, Derek studied the list of stolen items the cops provided. “We’re talking standard household stuff—a flat-screen TV, a couple laptops, a set of silverware, a pair of diamond studs, and a gold necklace. Nothing close to the haul they got from the other thefts. And what bugs me most is that the rest of what they took smacks of camouflage—a DVD player they could get for seventy-five bucks at Best Buy, a hundred-dollar men’s watch they could buy on the Internet for less, and a whole slew of knickknacks. They spent more time trashing the place than robbing it.”
“You think they were looking for something else.”
“Yeah. And I think they were disguising that search as a burglary. Why else would our wiretap catch Xiao Long getting word about finalizing a deal with an old art dealer on East Eighty-second?”
“Could be payback for anything,” Rich suggested.
“Right,” Derek returned drily. “And it could be coincidence that the very next morning you had an appointment to interview Burbank about a dirty art deal.”
“Which we have no reason to believe he was involved in.” Rich pursed his lips. “Look, Derek, I understand how frustrated you are. But I haven’t found the connection you’re looking for. The painting Burbank sold was genuine. As for a link between Burbank and Xiao Long, when I slipped in Xiao Long’s name during the Hong Kong portion of our interview, there wasn’t a flicker of recognition. Burbank’s a lousy actor, and I’m a great reader of body language. I’d know if he was hiding something.”
“Unless he doesn’t know what he’s hiding.”
Rich shrugged. “We can speculate all day. All I can say is that, if Burbank’s sale of Dead or Alive to Cai Wen, or if Cai Wen’s murder itself, is in any way tied to your investigation of Xiao Long, I can’t see it. Then again, a killer and a thief isn’t about to leave a sales receipt. So the gaping hole in our provenance certainly leaves room for a variety of possibilities.”
“All the more reason to keep digging into Burbank’s art investment group and the timing of their sale. Please, Rich. I’d consider it a personal favor.”
“Fine,” Rich agreed, eyeing Derek quizzically as he spoke. “I’ll review each of their interviews. But, just to clarify, are you leaning toward Burbank being a pawn or a criminal? I’m getting mixed signals.”
“That’s because Derek’s giving them off.” Tony leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on his desk. “Rich, would you excuse us for a minute?”
“Not a problem. Actually, I’ve got to run anyway.” Rich got to his feet. “I’m waiting for a call from Interpol.”
“That museum heist in Munich earlier today?” Tony asked.
“Yup. Bloody and profitable. Five dead guards. And a haul including a Van Gogh worth about forty million.”
Tony whistled. “You’ve got your hands full.”
“Always.” Rich headed for the door. “I’ll let you know if I find anything in those interviews.”
“Thanks,” Derek replied.
He waited until he and Tony were alone. Then, he got right into it. “You want to discuss my objectivity where it comes to this case.”
“Do you blame me?”
“Not a bit. And you’re right. I’ve got a personal stake in this. But my loyalty is to Sloane, not her father. Which is all the more reason I want to get at the truth—whatever it is. Sloane believes her father’s innocent of whatever wrongdoing he presented to her, be it real or fabricated. She also believes he’s in danger. She’s hired security to watch both her parents. I checked that out. And if Burbank’s lying, if he is involved with the Red Dragons, then it’s not just him and his wife who are in danger. It’s Sloane, too. So I might not be objective, but I’ve got a hell of an incentive. Which makes me the best lead agent on this case.”
Tony contemplated Derek’s argument, then nodded. “If I didn’t know Sloane so well professionally, I’d say your argument’s thin. I’d say she’s an attorney acting in the best interests of her client, and that that client happens to be her father—which gives her twice the motivation to protect him from prosecution if he committed murder. But I do know Sloane. I mentored her during her hostage negotiation training in Quantico. I know how ethical she is. And, coming from me, that’s objective. I’m not the one who’s in love with her. So, fine, you’re the lead agent on the case. Now solve it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The one thing Derek hadn’t approached Tony with was how much of the FBI’s need-to-know policy still applied to Sloane. She wasn’t currently a Bureau employee, but she had been and she would be again. She also consulted for them on a case-by-case basis, and had retained all her old contacts.
Talk about a gray area.
Derek leaned back against the cushion of the living room sofa in Sloane’s cottage, and contemplated that delicate matter, rolling his goblet of merlot between his palms.
Being here alone felt more comfortable than he’d expected. Not that he was really alone, he noted with a grin, glancing down at the three hounds who were sprawled around him, snoozing. He’d picked them up, along with the last of his bags, around six and driven straight to the cottage. Sloane was finishing up with a midtown client, dropping by her parents’ apartment, and then heading home.
That had given Derek time to grab a snack, run the hounds, and do a little unpacking. Now he was relaxing with a glass of wine and a couple of takeout menus. Even though he was still mulling over the day’s events, he could do so in a quieter, less frenetic manner while deciding between Chinese and Thai food. Sloane loved both.
Half and half, he decided. An eclectic Asian meal for their first night officially living together.