The Spy (King’s Security #3)

Chapter 7

7

FIONA

“Who else could it possibly be?” I demanded, glancing along the corridor to make sure no one could overhear us. “The painting was replaced with a forgery. The similarities were enough for the police to think it was me. It must be him.”

Bergen was a devious toad. He’d manipulated me, stolen from me, and let me down in every conceivable way. He had to be responsible for my current problems. He’d used me as a patsy once, so it made sense he’d do it again.

“Let’s just look at this as if we’re impartial observers,” Zeke said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. As if that really calmed anyone. “You can’t be one hundred percent certain he stole those paintings from the Black Swan Gallery four years ago. Sure, the fact he disappeared out of your life that day looks guilty, but you don’t have irrefutable proof.”

I folded my arms over my chest defensively but I couldn’t contradict him .

“On the slight chance he didn’t do it, then someone else could be behind both crimes,” he said. “We should look for other connections between them.”

“You mean like someone who worked at both places?”

“Yes, or someone else who had access. An artist, contractor, even the janitor.”

I nodded briskly and stalked down the corridor toward the stairs. Logically, I could see that his idea had merit, but I couldn’t help feeling like he was just another person who didn’t believe me. Emotion thickened the back of my throat and I was glad Zeke had stopped trying to talk to me for a few seconds because if I had to speak, he’d no doubt hear how upset I was, and I didn’t like being vulnerable with him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure that Zeke was the kind of person anyone ever wanted to be vulnerable with.

Once I’d managed to get my breathing under control, I slowed until we were walking together.

“I hear you,” I said. “I’m willing to look into other possibilities, but I still think Bergen did it and whether or not you agree, I’m not going to stop trying to chase him down.”

To my surprise, he smiled. “I didn’t expect anything else. I just don’t want you to have blinders on when it comes to him.”

“I’ll try not to.” I started down the stairs, taking them quickly and enjoying the faint burn in my legs. I was grateful he hadn’t completely dismissed my concerns about Bergen, although I did feel a bit called out by the fact he obviously thought I was obsessed with Bergen’s guilt. Yes, I had a one-track mind, but if Zeke had been through what I had—the hours of interrogation, the way nobody I knew trusted me anymore, and having to dig myself out of a financial hole I hadn’t caused—he’d feel the same way.

“Why don’t we start with Andrew?” he suggested as we reached the ground floor .

“Actually…” I bit my lip, silently weighing our options. “I have another idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Yesterday, while I was waiting for you and Patience to finish doing whatever you were doing, I noticed a painting by an acquaintance of mine on the gallery wall. He also sold artwork through the Black Swan Gallery, so if you’re looking for connections, he might be a good place to start.”

I didn’t think for a second that Denny had anything to do with the thefts, but he was a gossip, so he might have useful information. He was also a friendly face—one of only few of my old colleagues who had stood by me—and I could really do with one of his hugs right about now.

Zeke shrugged. “If you think it’s worthwhile. Do you know where we can find this acquaintance of yours?”

“I do.” I gave him the address and climbed into his car. I could still hardly believe he drove a hatchback. I’d been sure he was a sports car guy.

He drove us to Denny’s home in a trendy upscale neighborhood. He was only able to afford the house because he shared it with several other artists. They claimed being so near to the park helped fill their creative wells. I’d never had the same affinity for nature, but they all did beautiful work, so there was no arguing with their process.

“It’s this one.” I pointed to the building and Zeke parked on the roadside opposite. I got out of the car and waited for him to join me. Together, we crossed the road and climbed three stairs to the door. I knocked and stepped back.

A moment later, the door flew open and Denny beamed out at me.

“Fiona!” He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. I buried my face in his shoulder, soaking up the human contact. I got far too little of it. “It’s so good to see you, darling. What brings you here?”

ZEKE

My eyes narrowed at the familiar way the man in the hipster glasses held onto Fiona. I hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to her, and I didn’t like being caught off guard. She hadn’t mentioned being friends with this guy—just acquaintances—and it made me wonder what else she might not have mentioned. My gaze lingered on his hand where it rested on her mid-back. At least it hadn’t sank any lower. If he’d touched her too intimately, I might have had to remove his hand from her body, and I doubt either of them would like my methods.

I took the opportunity to assess him while he was preoccupied with my beautiful partner. He was a little taller than Fiona, but shorter than me. Slender but athletic, with tidy facial hair and vivid blue eyes. He was good-looking, if you liked the cute nerd type. Based on the fact Fiona had dated Bergen, I had assumed she preferred her men tattooed and rugged, but maybe she didn’t have a type at all. It wasn’t as if I had a physical type. I liked all women—the more fiery, the better.

“We have something to talk to you about,” Fiona said in answer to the guy’s question. She looked around. “In private.”

“Oh, sure.” He sounded intrigued. “Come in. Can I get you a coffee? I remember how much you love your skinny caramel lattes.”

“Maybe just a little one.” She flashed him a smile. “I’ve already had one coffee this morning.”

He beamed. “One latte, heavy on the caramel, light on the coffee, coming right up.” He turned to me and his eyes widened. He scanned me up and down, blatant appreciation in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”

Fiona sighed. “This is Zeke. He’s helping me out with a problem I’m having.”

“Oh, sweetie.” He cringed. “Another problem?”

Fiona’s face scrunched. “Yup.” She met my eyes. “Zeke, this charmer is Denny. He’s a fabulous watercolor artist.”

Denny preened. “I try.” He moved to the side and waved us in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zeke. Can I get you a coffee?”

“No, thanks.” I had a strict limit on how much caffeine I consumed each day. Too much made me jittery. I’d prefer to wait until later, when I really needed a boost.

“Suit yourself.” Denny closed the door behind us and led us down a hallway to an airy living area that was awash with natural light. Fiona sat on one of four armchairs positioned around a coffee table and crossed her legs. I took another of the seats while Denny fussed with coffee in the attached open-plan kitchen. When he returned, he passed Fiona a mug of frothy milk and placed a small cup of espresso in front of himself.

“So, what’s the drama?” he asked.

I glanced at Fiona, wondering how much she’d divulge. While the police hadn’t told us to keep quiet about the theft, it hadn’t hit the papers yet so I couldn’t imagine they’d want it being widely shared.

“Another painting has been stolen,” she said. “From the Windy City Gallery. The police think I took it.”

I watched Denny’s reaction carefully. He rolled his eyes and made a scoffing sound, seeming to immediately dismiss the possibility. Because he trusted her, or because he knew who’d actually done it ?

“You haven’t had anything to do with art for years,” Denny said. “What ridiculous reason could they possibly have to think you were involved?”

“We don’t know.”

I was impressed by how little her expression gave away. Once again, I couldn’t help wondering if Fiona had plenty of practice at lying. Although I supposed it wasn’t technically a lie. We may have suspected why the police had come to her, but we didn’t know for certain.

“You poor darling. I’m so sorry they’re putting you through this.” His eyes were soft with sympathy, and his tone sounded genuine. “What can I do to help? Do you need another one of my famous hugs?”

Fiona laughed. “There’s no such thing as too many hugs, but actually, I thought we’d come to you since you have art at both the Black Swan Gallery and the Windy City Gallery. I thought if anyone had any idea who might have done something like that, it would be you.”

Denny looked pleased, and I sent Fiona an approving look. She clearly knew how to butter the guy up.

“Honestly, Fi, I hate to dwell on thoughts of who might have done something this awful. Not only the crimes but to set you up too.” He shook his head. “Despicable.”

I hid a grin. He was saying all the right things, but he sounded a little too delighted for his regret to be genuine. I knew the type. He thrived on gossip.

“Who do you think it could have been?” Fiona persisted. “Has Patience had a falling-out with anyone?”

Denny pulled a face. “Patience is so wonderfully tepid that nobody could hate her enough to want to mess with her career. No, it’s more likely that someone needed the cash.” He rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Andrew never has enough money, and sweet Sandra has been known to gamble online a bit too much. ”

My eyebrows flew up. Sandra, the elderly lady with the clean record, was a secret gambler?

“But Sandra wouldn’t go into debt, would she?” Fiona asked, as if she knew the woman.

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Denny agreed. “But you can never know for sure these days. The skeletons some people hide in their closets. Dear God.”

I clasped my hands together on my lap, wondering what he’d think if he could see all the skeletons in my closet. There were many. I’d done bad things in my former career. Always for the right reason—or so I was told—but I hadn’t been surprised when life gave me a karmic kick up the ass. I’d probably deserved it. Not that that meant I’d ever forgive the people responsible.

“What about Sam?” Fiona asked.

“Hmm. Sam.” Denny sipped his coffee. “He’s off the hard stuff these days and I don’t think he’d risk doing something stupid when he’s worked hard to turn things around.”

Fiona tasted her latte, then licked her lips. My gut tightened with the longing to taste them.

She raised the mug again. “Have you seen Bergen around at all?”

Denny’s eyes lit with mischief. “I wondered when we’d get to him.”

She lifted one shoulder and dropped it. “Yeah, well. You know me. I always thought Bergen was the person who’d done it.”

“So you did. As a matter of fact, I do think I saw Bergen outside the gallery recently, but it was only for a few seconds, and I couldn’t be sure it was him.”

Fiona tensed. She turned to me, victory in her eyes. I let her have the moment. For all we knew, Denny was stretching the truth. He seemed like the kind of guy who enjoyed a good story, and being the source of this scandalous tidbit obviously pleased him. We still had to check out other possibilities.

“Where were you two nights ago?” I asked, speaking for the first time since we’d sat down.

Denny’s mouth fell open. “I… You…” He sputtered. “I was here, playing video games with three of my roommates. We were here all night. I can wake one of them up if you need to verify, officer.”

His snarky tone made me smile. I could see why he and Fiona got along.

“No need for that. And I’m not an officer.”

“Oh.” He looked intrigued. “I should have known. You don’t carry yourself like one. What are you then?”

“He can’t tell you that or he’d have to kill you,” Fiona teased.

I forced myself to smile even though the comment hit too close to home. There had been a time, when I was deeply embedded in an international cyber terrorist cell, that the words would have been true. Fortunately, that wasn’t my life anymore.

“Color me intrigued,” Denny said, but he didn’t push for more information. He and Fiona chatted for a few more minutes and then she finished her drink and told him we needed to be on our way. He walked us to the door, hugging her again before we left. I bristled at the sight—I didn’t like her being held by another man—but I didn’t get the impression that either of them was interested in the other, so I let it go.

Once we were in the car again, I turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with him?”

She flushed guiltily. “I didn’t think it mattered. I knew he’d be helpful, and I thought that was all that was important. ”

I grunted. “It would have been nice to know.”

I’d had enough of being blindsided by people in my lifetime, and even though my instincts told me I could trust her, part of me wondered. Part of me would always wonder.