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

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Peterson,” Reynolds said as he approached, reaching out to shake my hand. “Thanks for being flexible with the choice of venue.”

  “No worries,” I said.

  The guy was definitely snooty, as Sarah had pointed out, but at least he had a firm hand shake.

  The maître d greeted Reynolds by name as we entered and brought us back to what I assumed was the professor’s usual table. He handed Reynolds a thick, leather-bound, wine list once we were seated. “Will you be dining with us today, sir?”

  Reynolds looked at us. “Shall we? My treat.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Sarah responded, without hesitation.

  “Splendid. Would you mind terribly if I chose a bottle for the table?” Reynolds asked, waving the wine menu up next to his face.

  “Please,” I said, not knowing a two dollar bottle from a two thousand dollar one.

  Reynolds smiled at the maître d. “We’ll go with the ’75 Chateau d’Yquem, this afternoon.”

  “I thought you might, and may I say, an excellent choice, as always, sir.”

  “Thank you, Ralph.”

  I waited for the maître d to walk away before broaching the topic of Reynolds’s call. “Professor, Sarah said you sounded upset on the phone. Everything all right?”

  “Hardly,” he said. “It has to do with our contract. I can’t find it anywhere, and I fear my wife has somehow discovered it.”

  I noticed an almost undetectable smirk on Sarah’s face, and braced for the inevitable.

  “She did,” Sarah said. “Your wife found the contract.”

  Reynolds whipped his head around. “What? How would you be privy to such information?”

  “Simple,” Sarah replied. “I heard Vittoria say so.”

  The look on Reynolds’s face was priceless. It was in that moment I became convinced Sarah actually enjoyed torturing the good professor.

  “You’ve spoken to my wife?”

  “Not me. Carter.”

  Reynolds turned and stared. “Is that true, Mr. Peterson?”

  “It is. She showed up on our doorstep, unannounced,” I replied.

  I think it was the first time Reynolds had ever actually focused on my face while in Sarah’s presence. He looked panic-stricken. “May I ask when?”

  “Yesterday, around noon,” I told him.

  “Please tell me you didn’t---” Reynolds stopped talking as he saw the maître d approach.

  “1975 Chateau d’Yquem, as requested, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Reynolds said as the maître d went through the usual gyrations associated with serving fine wine. Once the wine had been poured and the maître d made his exit, Reynolds hurriedly raised his glass. “Salud.”

  We clinked, sipped, and got back to business. “You were about to ask me a question, Professor?”

  He nodded and leaned in. “I trust you didn’t share with Vittoria why you were hired, nor make mention of Melody.”

  Never,” I said. “We’re known for our discretion.”

  Reynolds let go a sigh of relief, sat back, and took several sips of wine. “You nearly gave me cardiac arrest.”

  “We had no idea who your wife was before yesterday. Or, that she was world-renowned,” Sarah remarked.

  “World-renowned. Yes, Vittoria certainly is that,” he said to Sarah then turned and looked at me again. “If I may ask … what, exactly, was your conversation with my wife about?”

  “It wasn’t really a conversation, Professor. She told me she found our contract, asked what we’d been hired to do, and wanted to know if our involvement in your life was in any way related to the phone call she’d received from her banker friend. I stonewalled her on all of it. She learned nothing during our visit. Nothing, whatsoever.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been worried sick over this since that paperwork went missing. I was reasonably sure she had it, then kept second-guessing just what had been spelled-out in our agreement. My wife is immensely intelligent, and can glean information from the most miniscule details. I’m quite certain she could have been a world-class spy if it had been her desire.”

  “Sorry the episode caused you so much grief,” I said.

  “Only when I’d recalled what you’d said about leaving certain details out of the contract was I able to calm down. However, the mind can play tricks on you.”

  “Are you afraid of your wife, Professor Reynolds,” Sarah asked.

  “Why, I don’t … I really can’t---”

  “If you are, it’s OK,” Sarah said. “No one could blame you. I was standing around the corner, a safe distance away, when your wife came to call. She didn’t know I was there. Trust me, even from that distance … I could feel the heat.”

  “I highly doubt she was unaware of your proximity,” he said. “And, yes, if you must know the truth, I am a bit, shall we say, uncomfortable around her anymore.”

  “Why is that?” Sarah asked.

  “I met Vittoria when I was twenty-two. She was twenty-eight at the time. We’ve been together now nearly forty-one years; as a couple for seven, then married for thirty-four. Personalities, situations, desires … they all change as the years pass. Vittoria has become larger-than-life, for lack of a better term. I simply can’t keep up, nor do I have the desire. We stay together out of convenience, or at least that’s what we tell one another.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “She wields a great deal of power,” he snapped. Reynolds paused and closed his eyes for a moment, then continued. “If I’m the biology, she’s the dome surrounding it.” He offered what looked like a sad smile. “I hope that makes sense, as I don’t have other words to explain it quite so succinctly.”

  “It makes sense,” Sarah said. “Thank you. I think you’re brave for sharing that with us. But, I’m curious. How long did it take?”

  “For us to drift apart? It all began to unravel when she started doing the work that’s grown to become Abhorica. She began nearly twenty eight years ago. Vittoria would be gone for months at a time. First, three months, then six. In fact, one project kept her from me for an entire year. It’s difficult to weather that much time and distance apart without losing most of what you started with. Sadly, it’s gotten to the point where Vittoria is away more often than she’s home.”

  “That’s why you cheat?”

  “I despise that term. It’s too … simple.” Reynolds took a sip of wine. “You may find this difficult to believe, but Melody is the only woman I’ve ever been with---on an intimate level---other than my wife. Vittoria was my first, and Melody will likely be my last. There were no others. There will never be others.”

  “You’re right,” Sarah said. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. Granted, I’ve spent countless hours in the company of other women. Hundreds of women. Thousands of hours. However, those interludes were more intellectually stimulating. To kiss? To caress? To make love to in the quiet hours? There have been but two.”

  I somehow believed the guy. You could see it in his eyes. The passion. The pain.

  I had to ask.

  “Professor, why Melody Savin? I’m wondering what it was about her that made you---”

  “That made me break? Succumb? That’s a simple question to answer, Mr. Peterson. She’s a ghost come to life. Never had any woman made me feel the way Vittoria did when we were young … until Melody. It was as if I’d been placed in a time machine and rushed headlong to that glorious time and place from my past.”

  I looked at Sarah, and she at me. We were speechless. I could see tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Excuse me for a minute, please.” She rose from her chair and made her way toward the lady’s room.

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’ll be fine,” I said. “Just a little emotional, right now. That being said, I have a feeling she may change her mind about the dining portion of our time here.”

  “I see.”r />
  “Professor, I have a couple of questions we really need answered before we part ways this afternoon.”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Ms. Savin. Was she technically an official graduate student of yours, or simply auditing your lectures at the university?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s complicated. However, for the purpose of your investigation, I’d have to say auditing is likely the most accurate answer.”

  I jotted the information down in my notebook. “Fair enough. My other question deals with the issue of identity as it pertains to Ms. Savin. Were you aware she was using an alias around campus?”

  “You had mentioned your suspicion that Melody Savin was not her real name. It’s a notion I’m having a difficult time making peace with. For reasons I trust are far clearer to you now that I’ve bared my soul.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I should have explained myself a bit better. She was using a second alias. Does the name Janet Broe mean anything to you?”

  No sooner had I clarified what I was looking for when I realized I was about to have a second emotional situation on my hands. Reynolds reached inside his blazer, pulled out a kerchief, and gently dabbed at both his eyes. “Forgive me, Mr. Peterson. Simply put, I find your latest revelation a bit overwhelming. I’m torn, as I don’t want to believe a word of it. Conversely, I fear your assessment is likely spot-on.” Reynolds stuffed his kerchief back in his pocket as he spotted Sarah making her way back to the table.

  Sarah spied my closed notebook and probably assumed I’d been successful in getting the answers we needed. She remained standing.

  “Everything all right,” I asked, figuring it would give her the opportunity to speak up if she wanted to leave.

  “Actually, I’m not feeling very well. Professor, would you be offended if we cut our meeting short? If we’ve covered all you wanted and needed to discuss, that is.”

  He stood up and nodded. “Absolutely. Please … go get some rest. I sincerely hope you feel better later on.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” she said and turned to go.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I said to Reynolds, then grabbed our coats. “Thank you for the wine.”

  He simply nodded and sat back down.

  Chapter 17

  “Well, don’t I just feel like the world’s biggest jerk,” Sarah said as she pulled her seatbelt across her chest. “Seems like from the first moment I met Benjamin Reynolds, I had him pegged as a life-long womanizer, sleeping with this one and that one. Yet, the reality is … he’s only two partners away from being a virgin.”

  “Interesting way to put it,” I said. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Sarah. Every indication led us to believe the guy was constantly on the make. I know I thought so, just by the way he was always looking, googly-eyed, at you.”

  “Yeah, but I judged him. I made an assumption that ended up being way off.”

  “Human nature. Nearly everyone does the same thing, from time to time.”

  “I guess,” she said. “But, now I feel bad.”

  “Can’t help you, there.”

  “I’m going to make a pledge to myself to be better when it comes to this kind of behavior. And, I’m saying it out loud so you can be my witness.”

  “Fair enough, but don’t expect me to call you out on it if it happens in the future. Because, I’m not going there.”

  Sarah looked over at me then rested her hand atop my shoulder. “Did you ever discuss kids with Reynolds?”

  “You mean, as in, do they have any?”

  “Right.”

  “The topic never came up. We’ll find out next time we see him.” I got my notebook out and jotted down a reminder to ask him about it, then backed out of our parking spot, bound for home. “I’m thinking the answer is no.”

  “Same here. I didn’t see a lot of photos around their house when we were there. Usually, when people have children, they have their kid’s portraits hanging on the walls.”

  “True. I think he would have mentioned it. Plus, their lives don’t seem to fit the family mold.”

  “The family mold? I don’t even know what that means,” Sarah said.

  “Never mind. Not important.”

  “So, what’s our next order of business, now that I managed to make Reynolds cry, and vice-versa?” Sarah asked.

  “Stoney.”

  “Can we get that done on the way home?”

  “I don’t see why not. Two minutes, parked out in front of the coffee shop, and I can have it done. Got the old computer I use to send him stuff right in the back seat.”

  “Good. Getting back to the subject of Professor Reynolds … do you think he’s good looking?” Sarah asked.

  “Haven’t we had this discussion before? I don’t look at guys that way.”

  “I know, silly, but you can recognize an attractive human being when you see one, right? Doesn’t necessarily have to be a woman.”

  “I guess. Well … for a bald guy in his early sixties, I’d say he was a man who could still attract a member of the opposite sex. Why do you ask?”

  Sarah reached for my phone and brought up the image of Melody Savin. “She really is an attractive woman. I’m wondering if a guy like Reynolds should have seen her interest in him as suspect. You know, maybe thrown a red flag?”

  “Nah. Guy’s minds don’t work that way. Not only that, but you heard and saw the professor talking about Savin. He fell head-over-heels in love with her. Once that happens, all bets are off.”

  “I guess you’re right, which is what makes it all so tragic.”

  “Wow, that’s quite an about-face.”

  “I know. New information, new outlook. What can I say?”

  “Say you’ll reach into the back seat and grab my laptop,” I replied as I pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

  Sarah obliged.

  I fired-up the device, transferred the photo from my phone to the computer, and loaded the file into an email addressed to [email protected]. Stoney would have the new image in a matter of minutes.

  Chapter 18

  I grabbed the last piece of luggage out of the car and headed toward the house, happy to be home. I refused to let Sarah help with the bags when we pulled into the driveway, instead convincing her to go straight inside to try to relax. The past twenty-four hours had been an unsettling roller-coaster ride for her, the alternating highs and lows of the case taking a toll.

  I swung the front door wide and plunked my suitcase down when I noticed her in the kitchen, appliances whirring and buzzing away like she was a contestant on some cooking show. I got our belongings squared away then headed for the kitchen.

  “Did you follow up with Stoney, yet?” she asked, a smudge of white flour on her cheek.

  “Not yet,” I replied. “What are you whipping up in here?”

  “It’s a surprise. Thought I’d try a new recipe. Late lunch slash early dinner type of deal.”

  “Sure you’re up to it?” I asked.

  “I’m sure,” she said while studying my face. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but I’m pretty resilient, you know. Let’s not forget the fact I took a bullet not too long ago.”

  “Trust me, that’s a situation I’ll never forget, though I wish I could.”

  “My point is, I might get a bit shaken up once in a while, but it’s healthy for me to vent. I don’t like to keep my frustration locked up inside. You know … get it out and move on. I love you, Carter Peterson, but stop being so over-protective. I assure you, I can take the heat.”

  “Message received,” I said. “Guess I’ll get out of your hair and go call Stoney.”

  “Good plan,” she said and slapped my butt with her flour-covered hand.

  I went out to the car and got the burner phone working.

  Stoney answered after the first ring. “Hey, Slim. Great image you sent over.”

  “Glad you think so,” I said. “Hopefully, we’ll get somewhere with this one.”

/>   “Already did,” he replied.

  “What? I just sent it over to you fifteen minutes ago.”

  “I put the old man on it, right away. Got immediate hits across all four databases. Girl has no criminal record, except a couple unpaid parking tickets in LA and a speeding violation in Johannesburg. How far do you want us to dig?”

  I was speechless.

  “Slim, you get all that?”

  “Uh, yeah, I got it. Did you say Johannesburg? As in South Africa?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Huh. So, she travels a lot?”

  “Definitely. She’s lived in some interesting places. Even has dual citizenship.”

  “No kidding. What’s her name?”

  “Renee LeBlanc.”

  “OK. How difficult would it be to give me a detailed rundown of her travels?”

  “Not difficult at all, but involved. It’ll take some time. Time is money.”

  I was on the fence about what to tell him. The lack of any criminal record was throwing me for a loop. I had to make judgment call and make it now.

  “Dig deep. Give me all you can find.”

  “You’re the boss,” he said and clicked off.

  * * *

  I’d been sitting, staring at the wall inside my office for about twenty minutes when I heard Sarah call out my name. “In here,” I replied.

  She appeared in the doorway, a big smile on her face. “Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes. I think you’re really going to like it.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “What’s up? You seem … off.”

  “I spoke to Stoney.”

  “What did he say? Did he tell you the photo wasn’t going to work?”

  “Nope. It already worked. The photo isn’t the problem.”

  “Are you saying they already got a hit?” Sarah asked.

  I nodded. “Hits. On all four databases. Had them all within fifteen minutes.”

  “I don’t understand. That’s great news, right?”

  “Sarah, the woman we’re investigating has no criminal record.”