76
Designed Intent
Chapter 17
Monday Afternoon
Bobby and Eames had finished interviewing three of the collectors. A pattern began to emerge from the facts of the collectors' acquisition stories. Eames and Goren headed to Deakins' office to share their theory.
"Are you saying that you think one of the authenticators is the counterfeiter?" Deakins asked.
"I'm thinking so, Captain."
"Based on what?"
"We have one more collector to interview. He's in Rome and won't be back until Friday. But I'm wagering his story will contain similar information."
Eames jumped in, "These fakes have been owned for years. With one exception, these are not recent purchases."
"How long are we talking?" Deakins asked.
Bobby continued with, "The books have been purchased over the past eighteen years; until three weeks ago, the last purchase was six years ago. It was the recent purchase, a sale between two collectors, brokered by this authenticator, and authenticated by a second individual, that brought the forgeries to light."
"So, this first authenticator made the counterfeits and then brokered their sale to collectors, authenticating his fakes as genuine?" Deakins asked.
Bobby nodded and said, "Looks like. The buyers each told the same story. The broker would put out word that he knew of a rare first edition that was available; he would then present the authentication papers, a photo of the book and its boilerplate, and, after discussing price, would arrange for the buyer to examine the book. The sale was always private, so only the broker would meet with the potential buyer. The buyer would write the check to the broker in order to conceal the owner's identity."
Deakins considered this. "The second authenticator realized that this latest book was a fake?" The detectives nodded. "Have you talked with this second authenticator?"
"He's in Edmonton until Wednesday night. We left word with his assistant that we'd like to see him Thursday. She's going to get back to us about the exact time," Eames offered.
"Good, good. Who is this guy, this counterfeiter/authenticator?"
Eames looked at her notes, "James Doogan."
"Do we know where this Doogan is? Does he have any idea we're onto him?"
"Well, he must know something is up with the notices we've put out to collectors and the two clubs."
"Have you run him yet?"
"No, that's next."
"Any more fakes turn up from those notices?"
"No, so far, all of the fakes are located in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut."
"Good work. Find out about this guy and get back to me."
The pair rose and the three returned to work.
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Late Monday Afternoon
"Gleason, I swear, I was not watching. It was a coincidence that I called right after he left. I swear, Lass."
Gleason was furious with Malcolm. He was rushing to keep up with her as she strode to her evening class. She had hung up on him last night when he had called right after Bobby's cab had left for O'Hare. She had not taken his repeated calls last evening, this morning at home or in her office. She had left word with Mrs. Cornwall, the faculty secretary in the office reception area, that she did not want to speak with Dr. Conway, should he show up. Mrs. Cornwall had responded with eyebrows raised and a terse, "Certainly." She was ignoring him now. The bastard.
"Gleason, please. Talk to me."
She stopped, turned and said, "If you do not stop harassing me, Malcolm, I will file a grievance. Do you understand me?" She glared at him.
He looked at her calmly and said, "I don't think I am harassing you. I am your mentor, we are working on an article, and I am making myself available to help you. You will have a hard time substantiating harassment; especially since you accepted the flowers I sent to you, you invited me to the concert, and you returned my kiss." His tone was flat and icy.
Gleason did not like what he was saying. For the first time, she was afraid of him. "Just leave me alone." And she strode away.
Malcolm watched her walk away, pleased with how that went. He turned and walked back to his office. He shut his office door, lifted the phone, and dialed, "Maeve, I want to see you and Gussie tonight. How about if I come over, eh?"
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Tuesday
"It's off, man, it's off. The dude moved the goods," Turnbuckle said to Brine during their break.
Brine looked at his almost-partner-in-crime and sent up a prayer of thanks. "Ok, that's ok. I'll see you around," he said and turned to walk away.
"Hey, no man, wait. I got us somptin else. You wait, this is even better. You gonna do it wif me, right. This is even better. But we gots to wait a few weeks."
Sylvester Brine said easily, "Find someone else, I'm not doing anything else with you, understand?"
Turnbuckle stared at the other man and said menacingly, "You are in it all with me. We gonna do this other job in about two weeks and then we don't know each other. I need your expertise in this kind of stuff. You ain't walkin' away wifout agreeing. You understand?"
Brine knew he was trapped, "Call me when the time gets closer." And he walked away.
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"Dr. Wintermantle, Dr. Conway left this message for you," Mrs. Cornwall said, handing Gleason a note.
She took the note, "Thank you, Mrs. Cornwall."
The secretary hesitated and then said, "Dr. Wintermantle, Dr. Conway was very upset when I told him you did not want to see him."
"What do you mean, he was upset?"
"Well, he looked like he didn't believe me and then his face got all red and then he kept looking back here, toward the offices."
"Did he say anything?"
Mrs. Cornwall went red herself and looked to the floor, "He, he swore and then asked me for an 'f-ing piece of paper,' except he said the whole word."
Gleason was angry and frightened. "I'm sorry I put you in that situation, Mrs. Cornwall. Thank you for keeping him out there. I am sorry you had to deal with him. I don't think he'll be back."
Mrs. Cornwell nodded and left.
Gleason opened the note and read, "I have apologized. I don't know what else to do. I stopped by to let you know that Willow and I, and hopefully you, are meeting on Thursday at eleven to discuss the article. Call Willow to let her know if you will be there. Please be there." He signed it 'Malcolm.' Gleason was so sorry she had agreed to do this article; however, it had gone easily and was a good way to begin her tenure here. Eleven, tomorrow – she had office hours at that time, but could cancel them, as she had no appointments with students. She called Willow's number.