The Case of the Stolen Artifact

Chapter 20

1

Lieutenant Grant Becker pulled his vehicle up in front of Montre and Sons. Shutting off the engine, he turned to Ed Brown. "Ed, let me do the talking. If Katherine has been here, he will tell us. Don't try to bully Montre. He will shut down if you do."

"I have a feeling he will shut down anyway. Something is going on here. I don't know what it is, but I intend to find out. Francois Montre knows where Katherine Deneurve is, and he is going to tell us. I will let you take the lead, Lieutenant, but if I think he is stalling or outright trying to hide anything from us, I am not going to stand by and let him get away with it. Understand?"

Becker shook his head. Brown was going to do this his way. He just didn't realize he might jeopardize his ability to find the woman he was looking for. He got out of the vehicle and met Sergeant Brown on the other side. The detective was already walking up the sidewalk to Montre and Sons. Grant had to run to catch up with him. "Remember, let me do the talking." He did not hold out much hope the sergeant was going to keep quiet. On a mission for Chief Ironside, Brown did not seem to care much for protocol. Becker could see all the detective wanted to do was find the woman for his boss. He wondered who she was to Ironside.

Sergeant Brown opened the door and stepped inside the shop. Looking around, there were wines of all kinds lined up everywhere. They were stacked back almost as far as the eye could see. From the front of the building, Ed would never have guessed the place was this huge. They had come down the street it was located. If they had come down the cross-street, he might have seen how far the building stretched.

Having heard the bell on the front door when they entered, Francois Montre entered the room from a door off to their right. Walking towards them, the Frenchman smiled. "Lieutenant, you did not have to have the American ambassador call me. I would have seen you immediately." He then changed to speaking in French.

Ed noted the man had looked at him with suspicion. Ed did not speak a word of French. Obviously, he was aware Becker was an American, since he had spoken to him in English. So, what was the purpose of switching to French? Was he attempting to hide something from Ed Brown? He did not know, but he made a note to ask the lieutenant about it.

"Francois, this is Sergeant Ed Brown. He is an American from San Francisco, California. He works for..."

"Chief Robert T. Ironside, the famous American detective." Montre moved swiftly to the tall American and offered his hand to Ed who shook it. "Are you looking for some particular wine? I understand your chief is quite fond of bourbon. Is it a particularly old bottle he is seeking? I have numerous bottles from all over the world. In fact, I have some from your state of California." He led them over to a rather large selection of California wine.

Montre was trying too hard to impress him. If he thought he could distract him from the reason he was here, he was wasting his time. Ed intended to find out just how Montre fit into Katherine's disappearance. "No thank you. Chief Ironside has quite the collection of his own."

Trying to look disappointed, Montre then changed to a look of confusion. "I don't understand. I thought you came here to purchase wine." Using his hand, he waved it across the room. "As you can see, I have a very large selection, one of the largest in the world."

A young man approached them. "Papa, the shipment from Italy has arrived."

Francois smiled and addressed Brown. "Sergeant this is my son, Pierre. He actually is the one that does all the buying. He is gone so often I sometimes have to look twice to recognize my own son." He gave Pierre a stern look and said, "You handle the shipment. I am busy at the moment"

"Alright, Papa." He turned to go but quickly turned back. "Oh, did you buy any wine from the American woman?"

Montre attempted to keep a poker face at his son's question, but Ed noticed his composure slipped a bit. If he had any doubt that Montre was involved, it ended with the son's inquiry to his father.

"There was no American woman. The woman that came here was from Canada, and no, I did not buy any of the wine. Canadian wine is far inferior to our wine and to California wine, for that matter." He bowed to Ed and Grant.

"My mistake. Sorry, Papa. I will take care of the shipment that just arrived."

"You do that," Francois told him. He was furious at his son. Neither Brown or Becker had reacted to the young man asking about an American woman here to sell wine, yet he had no doubt both men were now suspicious. They were here to check on Katherine Denureve. Ironside had sent them; maybe not Becker, but it was the reason Ed Brown was here. Now because of his son's blunder, he would have to try to convince the American police officer the woman that had been here was from Canada. Why did he choose American's neighbor to the north? There were plenty of countries which spoke English.

Brown looked over at Grant Becker. He raised an eyebrow, which Francois noticed immediately. It confirmed the American was suspicious. He had no choice but to continue with the charade. Smiling broadly, he said, "Now, if you gentlemen are not here to purchase wine, than what may I do for you?" He smiled again.

Ed noticed his demeanor had changed just a bit. He was nervous and he was having a hard time hiding it. What little composure the man had left was not very convincing. Brown figured he knew why he was here, but he would keep up the act for their benefit.

Instead of letting Grant Becker take the lead, Ed immediately spoke up. "A woman, Katherine Denuerve was contacted by you to come to this country in hopes of selling her wine." Ed watched the man closely. He had hit a nerve. Montre's jaw tighten. Ed waited for the denial.

Lieutenant Grant Becker stepped into the conversation. "Someone claiming to be you, Mister Montre." He gave Ed a warning glance.

Unfortunately for Becker, Ed was not in a diplomatic mood. He wanted to find Katherine and get her back to the United States to testify what she knew. More importantly, he wanted to get her back to his boss. Ed knew how important she was to the chief. "No, that is not what I meant at all. You called her and lured her here, Mister Montre. Before I left San Francisco, I had the phone company trace the call. It came from this location. She was the American woman who came here your son was talking about. I don't have the time or the inclination to be polite. She was drawn here because some one did not want her in San Francisco to testify. Now, if I don't get some immediate cooperation, I am going to call back to the states and tell Chief Robert Ironside what is going on here. Then he can get in touch with his friend, President James Whitmore. I am sure you know that a U.S. President can put a great deal of pressure on your country. They in turn are going to put the pressure on you. So, why don't we cut to the chase. Where is Katherine Denuerve?"

"Sergeant Brown, take it easy," Lieutenant Becker said.

"This is taking it easy, Lieutenant. Just wait and see what happens when Chief Ironside gets the president involved." Ed looked back at a very red-faced Montre. "What will it be? Do I call Chief Ironside?"

"Alright, alright, Mrs. Denuerve was here. We could not reach a deal. She left here shortly after she arrived. I have not seen her since."

"Do you have any idea where she went?" Grant asked.

Montre shook his head. "Not a clue. Now, gentlemen, I am a very busy man. I have told you all I know."

"No, he hasn't," said a voice from behind them. They all turned around to see a young boy of about thirteen. "She was forced into a vehicle the moment she left here."

"How do you know she was forced?" Ed asked. He turned and gave Montre a look that could kill.

"Because I saw it. She did not want to go with them. When they got her in the car, they put a black hood over her head. This man is lying to you. I have seen the men who took her around here many times."

"That boy is always in trouble," Montre declared. "You can't possibly believe a word he says. No men I employ would do such a thing."

Grant Becker watched Montre. He was nervous. He was not telling the truth. "Mister Montre, I would suggest you tell Sergeant Brown where Katherine Denuerve is. Otherwise, I will advise him to call Chief Ironside."

"Go ahead, call your chief, call the president. I have no idea where she is. I told you. She came here; we could not make a deal and she left. That is all I know."

Lieutenant Becker was about to say something when Brown grabbed his arm. "Let's go. There is nothing else we can do here."

"What?! You can't be serious!" Becker exclaimed.

"Let's go." On the way out, Ed moved to the left of the door opening and placed a bug behind the door frame. He knew it wasn't legal, but at this point, he didn't care. He was going to find Katherine and take her back to San Francisco. He was a California cop. He wasn't breaking any California laws. The American Embassy would not help him. Obviously, Montre had them and the police in his pocket. Ed would have to forget everything the chief had taught him if he was going to save Katherine's life. That was what it came down to. Montre could not let her live.

When he and Lieutenant Becker arrived outside, Becker exclaimed, "I can't believe it! He is involved in this. Ed, he was lying through his teeth."

"That was obvious. I don't know if Katherine is even alive. What would be the reason for keeping her alive? If she got away, he would be implicated in kidnapping. They can't possibly let her go for the same reason." Ed was worried. Where did they take her and did they kill her right away? "What are the chances the police will help us?"

"Forget it, they are in Montre's pocket. He owes the police. They would not believe a word. No way they would believe Montre was involved in anything illegal. He gives money to police on a regular basis for whatever there pet project at the time is. I have no doubt some of it ends up in the pockets of some of the higher ranking police. What are you going to do, call Chief Ironside and get him to get President Whitmore involved?"

"No, if Katherine is alive, we don't have time. I placed a bug in his office. He should be making a phone call any minute now," Ed answered.

"You placed a bug?" Becker smiled. "Ironside's by-the-book staff."

"I am by-the-book," Ed insisted, and then added, "in San Francisco. You just said we could not trust the police. Seems the American Embassy is not an options. So, if there was one thing the chief taught me, was that unorthodox methods are sometimes in order." Brown put his hand to his ear.

"What is it Ed?" Grant asked.

"It's Montre. He is dialing the phone."

Grant remained quiet to make sure his new friend had every opportunity to hear the conversation.

"We have a problem," Montre said. "Ironside's man is here. He knows we have the American woman. We have to kill her. We have no choice. She can cause us all sorts of problems. Don't do it in my villa. Take her elsewhere."

"It is about time. I told you it should have been done immediately. I'll take care of it."

"You do that." The conversation ended.

From the look on Brown's face, Lieutenant Becker did not have to guess. "He ordered them to kill her."

"Yes. We have to stop them. Do you know where this villa is?" Ed asked.

"Yes. He wouldn't keep her in his home here in Paris. The villa is on the outskirts of the city. I know exactly where it is."

"Do you know where we can get some weapons?"

"I do indeed. I also know where we can get some help." Becker reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "The job of the American Armed Forces is to protect the American people, and we will do our job."

2

Eve Whitfield paced back and forth. She had to find a way out. She was no rookie. She was well aware neither she or Tracy were going to leave this villa alive if they did not find a way to escape. There was no one to help them. Chief Ironside was not going to show up and save them just in time. They were on their own.

Tracy Oliver watched Eve. She could not help but wonder whether they were going to get out of there alive. So far, they had been watched closely by the two men guarding the place. They were working in twelve-hour shifts. It would not be long and the shift would change. Tracy wondered if there was anyway they could try to escape when they changed.

Whitfield checked her phone. These people were not even smart crooks. They had failed to take her cell phone from her. Unfortunately, it was dead and the cord to recharge it was in her hotel room. If only she could get word to the chief, he could contact the police in Rome. Eve shook her head. There wasn't any sense in thinking about "if onlys." She had to concentrate on what they had to work with. Chief Ironside always managed to get away from his captors with whatever he had to work with. He trained her. She had to stop the pacing and figure a way out of their predicament.

"Tracy, our best bet is to try to make a run for it when the shift changes. I have to tell you the chances of them letting us out of here alive are about nil."

Tracy turned to face Eve and her assessment of their problem. "I already surmised that. There is not much hope, is there?"

Eve's voice became very strong. "There is always hope. We can either sit here and await a fate which is probably death, or we can try to get out of here."

"Well, at the worst, we can die trying. At best, we just might make it," Tracy said.

"There you go. One thing my boss has always been good at is using the things around him to overcome his captors. We have to find a way to do the same thing. It is our only chance."

"Alright, I am with you. What shall we look for?"

"Anything at all that will aide us in escaping. So let's start looking."

The ladies did exactly that. They began turning the room upside down, checking every drawer, closet.

While Eve was looking, Tracy began taking the pictures off the wall to look behind them. If there was a safe in the room, maybe they could crack it. A gun might be located inside. It was a long shot as probably neither of them could open a locked safe, but they had to at least try. The paintings on the walls were obviously expensive. Tracy had a love of art and owned some expensive paintings herself. Some of those on the wall in this villa were actually famous; a couple of which she realized had been stolen from art galleries or museums. "Eve, take a a look at these paintings."

Eve Whitfield stopped searching and walked over beside Tracy Oliver. "Paintings are beautiful and worth a lot of money, but not much help to us."

"No, take a look," Tracy insisted, emphasizing "look."

Eve looked again. A light of recognition appeared on her face. "This was stolen over a year ago from the museum in Chicago."

"That is right." Tracy walked over to another one. Pointing at it she announced, "And this one was stolen in New York around the time Bob was shot. It was never found."

"They must be worth millions." Eve began looking at others on the wall. "Some of the others look familiar. I can't place them though." She stopped in front of another and stared. "Wait...a minute." She looked back at Tracy as she placed her hand on it. "This was stolen from a private home of a very wealthy man in San Francisco. I remember now. I had just gotten the job on the force. I was one of the uniformed officers called to the scene. Of course I didn't see the painting as it had been stolen. The man insisted the case be turned over to Chief Ironside. The chief didn't take it though. He did not want to step on the toes of the Burglary Division. The commissioner would not force the chief to investigate. It was never recovered."

Eve began walking around the room. She turned around and looked closer at some of the paintings. "I don't believe it."

"Believe what?" Tracy said.

"Most of these paintings are very valuable and were on exhibit in San Francisco over the years. Each one was stolen directly after they left our museum."

"Why wasn't Bob called in on it? He normally would be, wouldn't he?"

"Well, that one over there," she pointed, "was rumored to have been stolen from a mob boss who could not report it to the police since he had had it stolen from the Museum in order to obtain it." She looked closer at another one. "This one as well," she said as she turned to look at Tracy.

"So what does all this mean?" Tracy asked.

"It means someone has more reason to keep the chief from investigating than just the robbery of the Tiger and the murder of Howard Jurgens." Eve thought for a moment. "This is not just two small-time hoods stealing the Tiger, Tracy. It is a theft ring. Someone is stealing paintings and artifacts and bringing them here to Italy."

"But why? A collector perhaps?"

Eve shook her head slowly as she studied a bust that was sitting on a pedestal. "No. Look at this bust. It is very famous. It came up missing from a museum in Germany just a couple months ago. It too had been on display in San Francisco directly before. It would be too hot to move right now."

"So you think someone is having these things stolen and held here until such time as they can sell them."

"That is a possibility." As Eve continued to look around, she continued, "but this bust is priceless. Who in their right mind would want anything to do with it. They would take a chance of being caught."

"What crook is in his right mind?" Tracy said.

"Actually, most of them. They know exactly what they are doing. They just think they will never get caught."

"So you believe this is an international theft ring?" Tracy asked.

Eve turned to face her. "Yes, I believe it is and this is where they hold the exhibits until it is safe to move them."

"You know what that means don't you?" Tracy said.

"There is no chance we are leaving here alive, but then we already knew that."

"This is the reason they did not want Bob investigating."

"The chief has a tremendous reputation as a detective. If you were part of all this," she said, sweeping her hand around the room, "would you want Chief Robert T. Ironside investigating?"

"No, and obviously neither did they."

Eve noticed a paper barely hanging below one of the paintings on the wall. She walked over and took the painting down. "Why is this here? It is worthless. She pulled the paper from the back of the painting.

"What is that?" Tracy asked.

Eve opened the paper that was folded into a square. She began reading it. It was not signed, but she recognized the handwriting. She had seen it many times before. "Oh my God!"

"What?"

"I know who is behind all this and it makes complete sense." Eve folded the paper back up, only into a smaller square. She opened the buttons on the blouse she was wearing and placed it in her bra.

"Can that be used as evidence?"

"Not exactly. I am removing it without a warrant. It will tell the chief who to go after. From there he can nail the person behind this." She put the painting back in place. "It is time we find a way out of here and now." Eve spotted a box sitting in the corner. She walked over to it. Tearing the top open there were several boxes, the kind jewelry was sold in. She picked up one and opened it. There sat a very large ruby. "It appears paintings and busts are not all they are into stealing." Eve opened several more boxes. They too had expensive pieces of jewelry in them. "These are absolutely beautiful."

Tracy stepped over. "None of these were stolen from museums though."

"No, but they are still worth a lot of money." Eve continued to open the boxes. The last one she opened was a rather large diamond. "This didn't come out of someone's home safe." She showed it to Tracy.

Tracy took it out of her hand and turned it around in hers. "It's beautiful, but like everything in here it is not of much help to us."

Eve smiled. "On the contrary, it is our way out of here."

Tracy smiled back when she realized what Eve was saying. "Diamond cuts glass."

"Let's figure out what window would be the best to get out of."

"And hope to God, we don't set off a security system."

"Oh, I believe you can count on that, so we are going to have to be prepared," Eve said.

Eve and Tracy checked all of the windows and decided on the one closes to the gates leading in and out of the property. Eve pushed back the drapes and checked. There were no storm windows that were common in the north in the United States. She studied the window, which went nearly from the floor to the ceiling."

"How are we going to do this without the glass crashing to the ground?" Tracy asked.

"That is the reason I picked this window," Eve told her. "Look down. There is nothing but grass below. It won't silence the breaking glass completely, but if we are lucky, the guards will be on the other side of the house. They keep this door locked, so they have no reason to believe we have any way out of here."

"Well then, let's get started. The quicker we get out of here, the better I am going to feel."

Officer Whitfield took the diamond and began working from the left side of the window, cutting a straight line horizontally across it. She then cut two vertical lines downward from the the other. The final cut was a second horizontal line at the bottom. Eve had made sure the opening would be big enough for them to to get out of the room. When she finished, the glass began to fall towards her into the room. Eve and Tracy grabbed it. Carefully, they removed it and set it gently on the floor.

Eve looked over at Tracy. "That was a break I was not expecting. Let's get out of here. Eve indicated for Tracy to go first. "Be careful. Don't come in contact with the edges."

Tracy Oliver nodded and slipped through the opening Eve had created. Eve followed her through. She could not help but to think the the chief would be proud of her. Eve had used his method of taking advantage of what was there for them. She was grateful the guards didn't consider that diamond a threat for them to escape with. However, Eve knew this was only the beginning. They still had to get off the property and find help. They were a long way out in the country.

3

Startled by the slamming of the open door, Officer Terry Cox turned his stolen weapon towards the door. As soon as he saw the officers burst into the room, he made a split-second decision. He had no way out except to attempt to fight his way out. Three against one was not good odds. In fact, it would mean certain death if he fired. Still he had no option open to him. They would not know who he was with the getup he was in until it was removed. His only chance was to dive behind Officer Duffy who laid in the hospital bed and use him as a shield, hoping he could get up three shots before Reese and the other two officers got out of the room. They certainly would not fire back with Duffy in front of him. They would not want to chance killing him in the cross fire.

Lieutenant Carl Reese was an instinctive and excellent officer. Besides those in Ironside's office, Reese was, like Duffy, a favorite of Chief Ironside for those very reasons. It was why Reese had been put in charge of Duffy's protection to begin with.

Reese knew whoever was behind the entire mess would have to silence Duffy. He had put only his best men on the protection of the young officer. He made sure he was at the hospital as much as possible. He did not get any argument from his own superior officer as everyone in the department knew the Internal Affair investigation against the chief was nothing but a set up. Someone wanted the chief out of the way.

As soon as he had gotten the call from downstairs, he knew the attempt to kill Duffy was about to be made. As he and the two uniformed police officers burst into the room, Reese had anticipated, much to the surprise and horror of Officer Terry Cox, that the sergeant would attempt to use Officer Duffy for cover. Reese was one of the best shots in the Department. Only Ed Brown and Chief Ironside himself ever scored better on the firing range than he did. Reese had picked the two men that were just below him on that list to help guard the room.

Without hesitation all three officers fired their guns immediately, not giving Cox the time to dive behind Duffy. All three hit their mark. Sergeant Terry Cox fell to the floor as the gun dropped out of his hand and landed a few feet away from him. Reese raced over to Cox. He kicked the gun across the room to be sure it could cause them no further problem. He then ripped off the beard and wig Cox was wearing to reveal his identity.

Carl looked down at the officer lying there on the floor. They had done their job and stopped Cox, but unfortunately, he would not survive. He was already barely alive. "Why, Terry? Wasn't a sergeant's pay enough for you?"

Barely above a whisper, Cox said, "Go to hell, Reese."

"Who put you up to it? Why did you kill Jurgens? And frame Alexandra Hughes and the chief? Shoot Duffy?" Reese demanded.

A doctor came racing into the room. "Move out of the way, Lieutenant. This man needs emergency medical attention."

"He's dead already," Carl snarled. He turned his attention back to Terry Cox as the other two officers held the medical personnel back. "Who was in on this with you?"

"You heard...me. Go to...hell, Reese." Terry Cox's head turned to the right as he took his last breath.

"DAMN IT!" Reese shouted.

"You should have let me save that man," the doctor shouted.

"He has two bullets in his chest and one in the stomach. He didn't have a chance," Reese growled. "He didn't deserve to be saved." Turning to one of his officers, Carl said, "Take over here, I have to inform Chief Ironside."

"But Chief Ironside is on suspension. Shouldn't the officer in charge be informed?"

"Chief Ironside is in charge. He always has been. Do you really think we are going to take orders from anyone else. To hell with any Internal Investigation. Ironside is not guilty of anything." As he started to leave the room, Carl informed them, "I'll tell the commissioner as well."

4

Mark pulled the van to a stop behind the Museum. Ironside backed his chair towards the lift. Matlock was directly behind him. "Ow! Watch where you are rolling that contraption," Ben cried out.

"Get out of the way, then!" Ironside snarled as he wheeled onto the lift. Pressing the button, the big detective was lowered to the ground. Mark was already on the lift side waiting for him. Perry assisted Della out of the van and met them.

"How are we going to get in?" Mason asked.

"I know the curator. He is meeting us here," Ironside told his brother.

"Robert, how much trouble are you going to be in for not staying out of the investigation?" Della asked him.

Ironside grunted. "No more than I am in right now. Besides, it is about time we find out what the flaming hell is going on."

A car pulled into the employee parking lot. The Museum curator stepped out and headed in their direction. "Good evening, Robert. I don't suppose it will do any good to tell you that you are not supposed to be anywhere near here."

"NO!" Ironside and Mason said at the same time.

"Alright, but I am not taking responsibility for this," he said as he put the key-card into the door.

Ben Matlock looked down at his pant leg. He noticed a line of dirt which must have come from Ironside's wheelchair. "Look at this, Chief. You did this when you backed into me."

"Good, maybe now you will change that flaming suit. You haven't changed it since you got here."

"I have more than one," Ben protested.

"Couldn't prove it by me," Ironside said.

Della and Perry looked at each other and a grinned broke across each of their faces. "You should have known those two would clash when you hired Ben Matlock to defend Robert."

Perry whispered back, "I did. Besides Matlock being one of the best attorneys in the country, I figured we could use some comic relief."

Della playfully slapped his chest. The couple entered the Museum behind Matlock. Ironside went in first with Mark pushing his wheelchair.

"What actually did you want to see, Robert? You have already surveyed the scene," the curator said.

"Well, I want to see it again, starting with where the murder took place," Ironside replied. The curator led him to the exact spot.

"This is it, although I don't see how it is going to help you. If there is anything else you need, let me know." He left them to their investigation.

Perry, Ben and Robert began checking the area. "How exactly was he found?" Ben asked.

"Face down right here," Perry said. "Shot in the back."

"But what was the position of the body?" Ben asked.

"Face down facing away from the door," Ironside said.

"So, he could have been shot from someone entering the Museum," Ben surmised.

"Possibly," Perry answered.

"Either Baines or Schneider could have entered and shot him as well as Officer Duffy," Ironside said.

"There is no proof that either of them was even here," Ben said.

"There isn't any proof someone entered and killed him either," Ironside snarled. "Alexandra said they were here."

"You are taking the word of a thief?" Ben said.

Ironside turned his chair sharply towards Matlock. Before he could say anything, Perry intervened. "Alexandra Hughes is our client. I believe she is innocent. So yes, Ben, I am taking her word."

Ironside was studying the hall to the security room. Forgetting about Matlock, he said. There is no way Powers could have fired the gun from that hall," he said pointing.

"Not to mention, someone silenced him," Perry said.

"Mark said a man ran out that door, but he did not get a good look at him."

"Bob, could it have been Sergeant Terry Cox?" Perry asked.

"It is possible," Ironside answered. "but, I think Mark would have been able to identify him."

"From behind?" Matlock questioned.

"Sergeant Cox has been around Headquarters for a long time. Mark has seen him come and go. I believe he would have recognized him, even from behind."

"So you think it was either Blaine or Schneider that shot Duffy and Jurgens?" Perry asked. "I have checked their records, Bob. They have been thieves for a long time. Neither of them has ever killed anyone in any of those jobs."

"No, and I don't think either of them actually pulled the trigger," Ironside said. "It isn't their style. No, my money is on Sergeant Cox."

"Have we accounted for his time at the time Jurgens was killed?" Della asked.

Perry answered for his brother. "He was on duty, but his partner had called in sick that night. He went on patrol alone."

"Since when is he allowed to go out alone?" Matlock asked.

"He isn't. That is why he is a suspect. With the information Paul came up with, Cox is up to his ears in this mess. Right now, I would say he is our prime suspect."

"I agree. Anything else you wanted to see here, Bob?" Perry asked.

"No, lets move into the main exhibit room." Ironside turned his chair and headed out of the hallway.

Perry took Della by the elbow and followed his brother. Matlock stood there. He envisioned Blaine and Schneider in the hall. Duffy had to have come down the stairs. He would have been shot in the chest from someone on the exhibit side of the hall. Jurgens was shot in the back from someone near the employee entrance door. That didn't make any sense. How did Duffy get the drop on them if there was someone behind him? Matlock left the hall and joined the rest of them in the main exhibit room.

Perry, Della and Ironside were checking the wall on the other side of the room. "Perry, we have checked every inch of this wall. There simply is no third bullet here," Della said.

"There has to be. Alexandra's paraffin test was positive. If she did not fire either shot that killed Jurgens and sent Duffy to the hospital, then there had to be another bullet fired," Perry insisted.

"Maybe you are not looking in the right place," Matlock said.

Ironside turned his head. "Alright, where would you look?"

"If it is not in this room, then it is possible it was fired before whoever planted it came in here," Ben said.

Perry and Bob looked at each other. "It's worth a try, Bob."

"Let's go," Ironside said. He turned his chair and headed back into the hall.

When everyone arrived, they began checking the walls. No bullet was found. Frustration showed on the chief's face. If they did not find the bullet, it could only mean one thing. Alexandra was guilty and she had been lying to him all along. He just could not believe that. As he stared at the floor, he could not think of any other place they could have fired the gun. He looked into the corner near the stair Duffy had obviously come down. The carpet seemed to be slightly pulled away from the wall. He notice both Ben and Perry were looking in the same area.

"There," Ironside called out. Mason and Matlock both headed for the corner. Perry, out of respect for the elder attorney, let him do the honors.

Matlock bent down and pulled on the carpet. Tearing it back a bit, he looked up and grinned. "There is a hole in the floor under the carpet just about the size of a bullet."

There was a knock on the door. Matlock being the closest to it, opened it. Lieutenant Carl Reese entered the employee's entrance. "Chief, I have some bad news."

"What bad news?" Ironside growled.

"Sergeant Terry Cox went to the hospital and tried to kill Officer Duffy."

"Tried?" Ironside questioned.

"The commissioner had his phone bugged. He called me and I went over there with several officers. We stopped him, Chief."

"And Cox?" Ironside asked.

"I am sorry, Chief. He left me no option. I had to kill him in order to protect Duffy."

There was silence in the hallway. Everyone knew without Cox, it would be more difficult to place him in the Museum at the time of the murder. Ironside shook his head. Were they ever going to get a break on this case?

Ironside broke the silence. "Carl, there is a bullet in the floor under the carpet over there in the corner. You are not barred from this case. So, get it out of there."

"Bob, you know what this means don't you?" Perry said.

"There was a second gun fired," Mason, Matlock and Ironside said at the same time.

"That is not all it means," Della said. "Wouldn't Terry Cox have access to the evidence room?"

"Yes, which means he could have tampered with the bullets and the gun. Perry, do you think the judge might order they be re-examined?"

"You know Judge Thatcher better than I do," Mason said.

"Carl, find out if that bullet was fired from the murder weapon. Let's get out of here. We got what we came for.