Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,37
this one. So, Ana, we have been forthcoming. You would like to return the favor, I think?” It was a strong encouragement to share. Ana resisted the temptation and shook her head.
“No, not yet.” She stayed firm, ignoring his smile. “Anything I have is supposition, Dav.”
Gates snagged her attention again. She was already hyper-aware of him, feeling warm and tingly on the side nearest him, as if she’d brushed against a warm stove.
“Do you have any information on the other items, Ana?”
“Of course, but most of it isn’t ready for prime time. Gates,” she rolled his sexy name off her tongue with ease, “was kind enough to give me the data you had put together on the other two paintings. I checked with the people who did initial investigations, faxed them the certification on the fraudulent paintings. They are a match, these two,” she pointed to the pictures he’d added to the discussion, “to the forged paperwork for a number of the others, so I’d say they’re included.”
She looked from Gates to Dav. “I’m grateful that both of you are willing to cooperate with me. I’ve interviewed a number of the other collectors. Some would like the matter forgotten. Some had honestly forgotten all about it.” She fought to keep the wry disbelief from showing on her face or in her voice, but evidently she missed.
“Hard to believe on either count,” Gates replied.
Ana shrugged. “Some trade art like kids trade baseball cards, I’m guessing. They forget which card wasn’t really the Babe’s rookie card, and which was.”
“The Babe?” Dav inquired.
“Babe Ruth,” both Ana and Gates chorused, then looked at one another.
True to form, Dav laughed. “Baseball fans, unite. I have heard of Herman Ruth and know of his record, but growing up in Greece doesn’t inform you of the nicknames, I guess.”
Since she’d had this conversation with a friend not long before, she smiled. “No, it doesn’t. As a kid, I lived all over the world, but my father loved baseball. When I got to a new place, knowing baseball helped me fit in.”
“Interesting. I knew how to make money. I found friends that way, no matter where I was,” Dav commented.
“A useful skill. I wish I’d known it,” Ana replied, not sure what else to say. “Still do, I guess. Anyway,” she said, shifting back to the matter at hand, “most of the other collectors and patrons who were victimized cut their losses and have no interest in the case. Their insurance paid, or didn’t, and they’ve moved on. Or closed down.”
“The Moroni Gallery,” Gates growled.
Ana nodded. Three of Dav’s losses had come through Moroni’s New York gallery. The owners had closed up shop and disappeared. “For one. Three other galleries connected to the thefts either shut down because of the losses or, in the case of Pratch, the gallery in Berlin, were closed due to misadventure.”
“Pratch, the owner, was never found, correct?”
Ana nodded, turning her reply to Gates’s question as well as his unspoken words. “And yes, he’s presumed dead. I count him as the sixth murder associated with this case, although my case files list only five.” She wasn’t willing to mention Luke Gideon just yet, but he would make the seventh murder.
“Is it possible he was involved?”
“Possible,” Ana agreed. She had instantly thought the same thing, but the Berlin police and the agents who’d handled the case initially thought not. Gates didn’t need to know about any internal disagreements, however. “According to Berlin though, no probable cause, so they’ve listed it probable death by misadventure and moved on.”
“Hmmm, so what is stirring now, Ana?” Dav asked.
“I’m working these cold cases, as I told Gates, utilizing technologies not available nine years ago. In some instances, we’ve been able to resolve cases thanks to advances in DNA processing, fingerprint databasing, and so on.”
“Yet you said there was no evidence left at any crime scene.” Gates made it a statement.
“True, but the advances in computer searches, like crime management and tracing papers and documentation, have been monumental. These forged papers could lead us to something, although I’d prefer you keep that to yourselves,” she requested. “Online major theft catalogues are growing. They’re still difficult to access, but I’m working through the data.”
“You’ve searched the TrustGuild list?” he asked, throwing out the name of a private data pool for missing items. “And the Pullein?”
“The Pullein, yes. I don’t have authorization to pay the fee for the TrustGuild.” She leafed through her notes to see what else she’d already searched, since