Art of the Con: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 6 Read online

  * * *

  “Welcome to the Whiskey Barrel, sir,” the host said as I entered the glorified bar.

  “I’m meeting someone. I think they’re already inside. And, my partner … she’s on her way in.”

  “Very well,” he said and motioned me through. “Enjoy.”

  I stepped inside the main service area and spotted the professor sitting at a four-top on the far side of the room. He didn’t notice me until I was almost standing next to him. “Evening, Professor,” I said and reached out to shake his hand.

  “Mr. Peterson. Good evening.” His tone and expression were flat---until he looked past me and saw Sarah walk in. The guy practically knocked me over as he stood up to greet her. “Ms. Woods. I’m honored you decided to join us.”

  “Thank you, Professor,” Sarah said. She smirked and gave me a wink when Reynolds finally let go of her hand in order to pull a stool out for her.

  The three of us got settled in and our drink orders were taken before any discussion of the case began. The professor was first to speak once our server walked off. “May I assume progress has been made in locating the reprobates who hold my funds at ransom?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “With all due respect, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we began our investigation.”

  “I see,” he said in response---while looking at Sarah.

  His starry gaze was broken by the delivery of the Old Fashions we’d ordered. “Can I bring you anything else at the moment?” our server asked.

  We indicated we were set for now---prompting the professor to refocus on Sarah.

  “Professor,” Sarah said. “Were you cheating on your wife with Melody Savin?”

  It was difficult to know who was more shocked by her out-of-left-field inquiry: him, or me. However, judging by the pale tone of his skin and the fact he nearly choked on his own saliva, my guess was he hadn’t anticipated having to field such an embarrassing question.

  I loved every second of it. Especially the part where he fumbled around with several items on the table, likely stalling so he could find the proper words to say.

  Out of what I imagined to be sheer necessity, the professor skipped the traditional cordial toast and downed half of his cocktail before the color finally returned to his face. He loosened his tie and cleared his throat. Only then did he make a reasonable attempt at answering the question. “I will say, Melody and I very much enjoy the pleasure of one another’s company---”

  His reasonable attempt was short-lived.

  “Oh, cut the crap, Professor,” Sarah said. “You know what? Thanks to your inability to honor the woman you married, and refrain from sleeping with other women, you’re in one heck of a mess. Not only that, but---well, let me tell you a little about our day, OK?”

  It was at that point Sarah started using her hands as she talked. Past experience told me this conversation was about to get heated.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Better him than me.

  “For starters,” Sarah said, “Carter was victimized by a pickpocket, earlier; credit cards, licenses, cash, all gone. Right after that, both of our bank accounts were raided, so we had to spend the better part of our afternoon dealing with that whole mess. Meanwhile, an elderly couple, on vacation in our area, lay gagged and bound for hours in the trunk of their rental car as their carjacker---likely a member of the heinous crew responsible for the con you’ve all but invited into your life---drove through our area. We have reason to believe the sole purpose of this reprobate’s visit was to let us know that if we decided to help you, there’d be serious consequences. All because you couldn’t keep it in---”

  “The point is, Professor,” I said as I reached out and squeezed Sarah’s hand, “I’m afraid this situation is far more serious than we’d previously imagined.”

  Sarah took a deep breath, downed the better part of her drink, and excused herself from the table, leaving me alone with the professor---whose jaw was left hanging like a crooked shingle.

  “I … I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for all you’ve had to endure as a result of my peccadillos. Yes. The answer is yes. I slept with the young woman. On five separate occasions, to be exact. I now realize I should have owned-up to this before. It was selfish.” He hung his head for a beat then polished off his cocktail and signaled our server for another round.

  The professor began to speak and I cut him off. “Let’s wait for Sarah before we continue.”

  He frowned and gave a single nod. “I fear I’ve deeply offended Ms. Woods.”

  “That you have. The good news is she’s quick to forgive. She’s a true professional, and quite good at what we do.”

  “I have no doubt,” the professor said.

  Sarah and our server both returned in the same moment. The professor looked as if he were about to stand up, but I beat him to it and pulled Sarah’s stool out for her.

  Once we were seated, the server gave us our second round and tidied up the table. “Enjoy.”

  Before anyone had a chance to speak the professor hoisted his glass. “A toast to honesty, then.”

  Sarah looked at me and raised her glass. “To honesty,” she parroted, her words sounding more like a question.

  We clinked glasses then the professor looked at Sarah. “Five times.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Melody. I slept with her five times. I’m sorry I failed to share this information with you, prior to this evening.”

  Without missing a beat, Sarah said, “With all due respect, Professor, it was quite obvious to me that you were cheating on your wife with this woman. It didn’t require a college degree to figure that one out.”

  I had to tuck my chin tight against my chest in order to keep from laughing out loud. When I looked back up, the professor’s head was hanging, likely out of embarrassment and shame.

  “Let’s move on,” Sarah said. “We have a great deal of work ahead of us if we hope to get a leg up on these people.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said and took a few swallows of my cocktail.

  “How?” the professor asked.

  I looked directly at him and thought about the question for a second. “These encounters with Melody Savin. Where and when did they take place?”

  I got my notebook out in anticipation of his answers.

  The professor cleared his throat. “I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but … every time, save one, was at my home, over the course of the past two weeks. The last time was just three days ago. Which, as it turns out, was also the last time I saw Melody. I’ve sent her more text messages than I care to admit. She hasn’t responded to any of them.”

  “Where was your wife during these little interludes?” Sarah asked.

  “She travels quite frequently,” he responded. “For business.”

  “The one time you two got together elsewhere. Where at?” I asked.

  The professor’s expression changed, now looking wistful. “I treated Melody to a three night stay up the coast at Agamenticus Hotel and Spa.”

  “Which one?” Sarah asked.

  “Their York, Maine, location,” he replied.

  I jotted down the information. “When was this?”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was while my wife was speaking at a conference in Paris, so … two weeks ago, tomorrow. I took Melody there two days after we first met. Before she formally began her studies at the university.”

  “York isn’t very far away from where we live,” Sarah remarked. “A little risky, don’t you think?”

  “We were quite discreet,” the professor replied, sounding defensive. “We weren’t together during every moment of our stay, mind you.”

  “Mind explaining?” I asked.

  “Melody spent a fair amount of time with estheticians, nail techs, hair stylists, and the like. We also spent a great deal of time in our suite. We took full advantage of the remarkable room service Agamenticus offers their guests.”

  Sa
rah caught my eye. I could tell by the look on her face she was less than impressed with our client.

  “Professor, the photograph of Ms. Savin. The one you provided us with. That’s the only picture of her you have?” I asked.

  “That’s correct. I captured the image at the spa, as Melody was coming out her final session with the head esthetician.”

  “Are you certain you have no other photos or videos of her?”

  He pursed his lips for a moment then said, “None, though I wish I did.”

  Sarah shook her head and reached for her drink.

  That’s when I knew it was time to go.

  Chapter 10

  “Is that man a complete imbecile, or what?” Sarah asked as we made our way out to the car. “The whole time we were in that place, he was sitting there, all bummed-out, still pining for that evil little wench who’s been bilking us all out of our money. I want so bad just to call Reynolds’s wife and let her know what’s going on. Don’t you think she’s entitled to the truth?”

  I was smart enough to know she wasn’t really looking for answers to her questions. And, I wasn’t about to touch any of them, even if she was. “You went at him a bit hard in there, don’t you think?”

  “Schmuck had it coming.”

  “That may be true, but we never got a chance to discuss Savin’s other alias, or ask him what her status was, concerning his lectures.”

  Sarah clammed up for a few seconds then stopped walking and turned to me. “Sorry. I got caught up in the heat of the moment. Should we go back? I don’t want my temper to be the cause of us missing out on information we might need.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. How would you feel about a visit to Agamenticus Hotel and Spa? I hear they do a real fine job up there in York.”

  “C’mon, Carter,” she said. “After dealing with Reynolds’s crap, then dropping the ball, I’m really in no mood to be teased.”

  “No tease,” I said as I grabbed her hand and started walking. “I’m genuinely asking. Wouldn’t it make you feel a little better? You know … do an overnight at a posh hotel, knowing Professor Loose Britches was paying for it.”

  She immediately perked up. “When?”

  “Let’s see if we can get James to help. Have him ask the chief about looking into some cooperation from the York Police Department. If we can get York to petition a judge for a search warrant, we could be checking in as soon as tomorrow afternoon.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I am. We may not need a warrant to get what we need, but if we go there and they refuse to cooperate, it would be real handy to have that particular card up our sleeve.”

  “Sarah smiled as she opened the door to her car. “Where do I sign?”

  I held my hand out. “You don’t have to sign anything, but you do need to let me drive.”

  Sarah handed me the keys and walked around to the passenger side of the car. “Think Chief Goodhue will cooperate?”

  “I spoke with him at the station this afternoon. Said he’s ready to help.”

  “Wow. That’s a relief.”

  “Yep. Good to have the cops backing us on this one, because the more layers we peel back, the more I understand … these cretins aren’t about to go down easy.”

  Chapter 11

  I awoke to sun shining on my face through the space between the curtains, a quick glance to my right telling me Sarah had gotten a jump on the new day. I got myself upright, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs.

  “Morning, handsome,” Sarah said as I walked in the kitchen, busying herself with putting together what looked to be a full, home-cooked breakfast.

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked.

  “Detective James left a message this morning. York Police will have a warrant available by noon, specifying legal access to all transaction records between Professor Reynolds and Agamenticus Hotel and Spa. Looks like things are a go for our getaway.”

  “That’s good news. Let’s hope they have rooms available.”

  “Already booked,” she said with a smile.

  “Nice. Maybe today will be a better day than yesterday.”

  “Bite your tongue,” she said while giving me her best fake scowl. “Don’t jinx it.”

  “You’re right. What’s for breakfast?”

  “I went and picked up some fresh bread and fresh-squeezed orange juice. I’m making us french toast and bacon.”

  “Wow. What time did you get up?” I asked.

  “Five-thirty. I was too excited to sleep.”

  I smiled. “Glad the judge came through with that warrant. Would have been quite a let-down if he hadn’t.”

  “I knew it would all work out. We had way too sucky a day yesterday for it not to.”

  “We’re not going to be able to spend all of our time in York luxuriating, you know. We have an investigation to conduct while we’re there.”

  She gave me the look. “I’m aware.”

  I decided to bail before I got myself in trouble. “Do I have time to take a shower before you get breakfast on the table?”

  “If you hop to it.”

  * * *

  The digital clock on my computer clicked over to noon as I sat at my desk---still stuffed from our big breakfast---studying the layout of Agamenticus Hotel and Spa. Their website was comprehensive, showing detailed floor plans of the facility and its amenities. Check-in wasn’t until 3 pm, so I figured I’d spend the early afternoon learning all I could about the place.

  My stomach hurt a little extra after having discovered the spa’s price list buried in the fine print. I wasn’t about to say anything to Sarah as I’d promised her the full experience, but there was no way I’d be able to bill Reynolds for our entire stay.

  I’d be lucky to justify billing him for half. Live and learn.

  On a positive note, if our stay proved successful and we were able to find any clues that moved us forward in bringing these con artists to justice, then taking a cut in pay would be well worth the sacrifice.

  “Whatcha doing?” Sarah asked as she popped her head in.

  “Getting myself familiarized with the hotel.”

  “Fun. I was just on their website a few minutes ago. Oh, Carter, I’m so pumped. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at such a fancy place. I’m going to go pack right now, bathing suits included. Did you see the size of that pool?”

  I gave her a wave as she floated off, more excited than I’d seen her in quite a while. Who says money can’t buy happiness?

  I got my head back into studying the website, doing my best to correlate the images shown with their locations on the floor plan. I wanted to leave nothing to chance. We’d be there for a limited time, and I needed an edge.

  I was pleased to learn the place took client safety seriously, employing ten security personnel and incorporating the latest available technology to keep an eye on comings and goings in and around the property. They even listed information about the chief of security, including his background experience. Though not from around here, the fifty-something ex-cop appeared to have a lot going for him, and the fact we both had law enforcement backgrounds could prove to be a plus.

  I grabbed a pen so I could jot down his name when I heard knocking at our front door. I waited a few seconds to see if Sarah was going to deal with it, but remembered she’d gone upstairs to pack. A second set of knocks. I pushed my chair back.

  As I made my way through the house I spotted an unfamiliar car parked out on the street. It was big, shiny, and white. I wasn’t necessarily a car guy, but had a hunch it was a late model Jaguar.

  I opened the door to find a well-dressed woman---probably in her late fifties---standing there, her expression giving me no indication who she was or why she was on our doorstep.

  “Mr. Carter Peterson, I presume?”

  “That’s right,” I said as I looked out over her shoulder at the white vehicle. A man stood beside it, wearing a suit and black cap.

  This woman had a driver. />
  “How can I help you?” I asked.

  She made a hmmphh sound that reminded me of the way animated rich snobs used to talk on Saturday morning cartoons back in the sixties. “You have no idea who I am, do you, Mr. Peterson?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “I see. My name is Vittoria Arnahj.”

  “OK?” I responded, thinking there was more to come.

  She just stared. As if she were waiting for something.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.

  She made a move I assumed was the world’s most subtle curtsey then proceeded to glide past me and into the house. I couldn’t help but notice the fragrance left in her wake. It smelled … expensive.

  I closed the front door and turned to find this mysterious woman standing roughly two feet away from me, her glare unsettling. “Mr. Peterson, for what reason has my husband hired you and your partner, Sarah Woods?”

  “Your husband?”

  “Professor Benjamin Reynolds.”

  “Oh,” I heard myself say without thinking.

  “Oh? Come now, Mr. Peterson. Surely you had an inkling who might be calling on you, unannounced.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.”

  “Tell me, are your dealings with my husband related to the odd phone call I received from a banker friend of mine a few days ago?” she asked.

  “As far as your question goes, have you spoken with Professor Reynolds about this?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve been overseas for the better part of six months. As a result, there hasn’t been much in the way of dialogue between us. Besides, I’m looking for straight talk, not some academic mumbo-jumbo. Benj would never dream of offering up the simple truth.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but our contract states---”

  “I’m privy to the verbiage found in your agreement. I’ve read it through---twice. So have my lawyers.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Thought you said you hadn’t spoken to your husband about the case.”

  “It hardly requires a discussion to ferret out the various tangibles my dear husband believes he’s so effectively hidden. I know every spot, every nook and crevice, in which that naughty little squirrel hides the precious acorns he wants no one to find. He’s naïve, you see. A silly little man.”