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Designed Intent
Chapter 55
Bobby and Eames followed the two uniforms up to 2B, the apartment with the reported break in. The place had been trashed and the CSU was picking through the mess, trying to dust and photograph.
"Geeze, look at this place," Eames said, stepping over an overturned end table.
Bobby moved to the center of the main room and looked around. Eames watched him look primarily at the floor, at the edges of the chaos.
He stepped to the sofa, carefully moved one of the cushions leaning on the front edge and stooped to examine a length of chain peeking out from underneath.
"What did you find?" Eames asked, making her way toward him through the clutter.
"Can I have a photo of this, please?" Bobby said over his shoulder. The photographer high stepped through the disorder and looked over Bobby's shoulder. "Thanks," Bobby answered to the flash. "Hang on, there's probably more. Here, give me a hand with this."
Bobby stood and he and the photographer upended the sofa. "One of you guys hang onto this, please." Two uniforms stepped up and held the sofa upright as Bobby stooped again, examining but not touching the object.
"What is that?" Eames asked.
Bobby was silent a moment, then replied, "This is a censer. It's old by the look of the finish."
"It's beautiful. What's it for?"
Bobby stood and explained, "Uh, it's a liturgical item, used in mostly Eastern Christian – especially Catholic – church services. This is particularly ornate, probably gold or gold plate. The intricate enamel inlays are unusual." Bobby stooped again, poked at the item with his pen and then stood, "Uh, it only has nine bells. There would have been twelve, representing the twelve apostles. And, uh, some of the enamel is cracked. It's very old."
"Somebody was looking for this and missed it?" Eames asked.
"Maybe. We need to look inside that duffle." He turned and said, "We need a large bag over here." To the photographer, he said, "This needs. . ."
"Yeah, I know, every angle," replied the photographer with a smile and nod.
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Gleason exited the coffee shop and looked to the left and right, searching for the man and little boy, knowing they would be gone. Gleason sighed hugely and a plume of icy breath clouded in front of her face. She turned left and continued down the block.
She couldn't get the child out of her mind. He knew her, or it seemed he did. What are the chances that a little boy who looked exactly like Bobby's mother's hallucination – which looked exactly what their child would look like – would walk into the very place where she was? Too many odd things were happening.
Three blocks later, she realized how far she had gone when the area became more residential. She decided to walk to Fifth Avenue to shop. By the time she got there, her nose was dripping and her cheeks were frozen. She got to Macey's and went in.
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Bobby lugged the duffle to a conference room and clanked it down on the table, pulling on gloves.
"Let's see what's in here," Eames said, pulling on the other latex glove. Bobby stood beside her watching her unzip the duffle. "Clothes?" she asked incredulously.
"No, this stuff is wrapped around. . . ," Bobby picked up the item on top and removed the tee shirt surrounding it, "Look at this."
"That's gorgeous. It kind of looks like that other thing. What is this?"
Bobby turned the canister shaped item in his hands, "This is, this is a myrrh container. See this, on the back, a pair of scissors would rest in this. I bet the scissors are lost."
"It looks like it matches the censer from the apartment. Is it part of a set?" Eames asked.
"It might be a set, both pieces are gold plated, the design in the enamel work is similar."
Eames removed another piece and unwound the sweatshirt swathing it, "This is really heavy, and big; it's the same as the other two pieces." She handed the piece to Bobby.
"Ah, this is a Litya. See here, these branches – the three holes hold candles. And this, this elevated tray is where the loaf sits. The containers for the oil, wine and wheat still have their lids. This is in very good condition. And valuable."
" What's all this?" Deakins asked, entering the conference room.
"These are items from the break-in with the two bodies. It looks like they are antique church things," Eames offered.
"You know about this stuff?" Deakins asked Bobby, expecting the detective to launch into a dissertation on liturgical accoutrements. He wasn't disappointed.
"So far, we have a censer, myrrh container and Litya. All of Russian origin, bearing the same plating and enamel work design. They seem to be of the same era, at least a hundred years old, probably older. These are probably stolen antiquities."
Deakins and Eames exchanged a look and nearly invisible smirk that Bobby didn't miss. "Uh, there's more in here," he said softly, reaching into the bag.
He withdrew a pair of sweatpants wrapped around a teapot-sized object. "This Zeon should have a tray with it," he said and Eames searched the duffle, lifting a flat object.
"This might be it," she said removing the undershirt. "I've seen this kind of thing; it's an icon, right?"
"Yeah, that's Bulgarian, not Russian. It's the Bulgarian Riza icon of the Mother of God – the Iveron."
Deakins couldn't resist asking, "Bobby, how do you know all of this?"
Bobby shuffled back two steps and dipped his head. "In college, I took an anthropology course – Survey of Religious Rites and Rituals. It was all about these kinds of things," he answered softly, with near embarrassment.
Deakins just shook his head and said, "What else is in there? Anything?"
Eames searched and pulled out a single sock hiding a small cross. She handed it to Bobby.
"This is a lacquered Pectoral Cross, also Russian. These items are probably stolen from a collector or museum."
"No theft notices come across, right?" Deakins asked. Both Eames and Bobby shrugged. "So what are you thinking on this?"
Eames looked to her partner; he tilted his head to the left with his right hand kneading his left. "These pieces were probably previously stolen and stashed in the apartment. The two dead men, Turnbuckle and Brine, stole them from whoever took them first. A third individual knew about their plan and waited for them to swipe the objects from the apartment and then shot them and stole the objects."
"Why would the third person then dump the items?" Eames asked.
Bobby considered a moment and then said, "I, uh, I don't know."
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Gleason walked around Macey's and found herself looking for the man and boy. Stop it, she told herself. Eventually, she began to look around at the merchandise. Gleason was not a shopper. She seldom had reason to buy anything being frugal by nature and raised with modest means.
She had never had any kind of decorative items – neither an artifact nor piece of art. She lived as though she had taken a vow of poverty until she lived with the men in her life. Gavin, Clive and Bobby each had established homes when she met them, so it was easy to slide into their abodes.
Gleason found herself in the linen department. Bobby had introduced her to what new sheets felt like; previously, she had always purchased her linens, and most other things, from charity shops. Bobby was appalled when she wanted to do so for the apartment in Evanston. As she looked at the pretty sheets and towels, an idea began to take form – she would buy a set of lovely, expensive sheets for their wedding night as a surprise for Bobby.
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Bobby checked the clock and said, "I have to head to Carver's, he wants to discuss the testimony I gave last week in case I'm recalled." He felt bad about having to leave his partner again.
"That's fine. I'm going to try to head out a little early, anyway. I'll catch up with you tomorrow. You go on and I'll get this stuff to trace."
Bobby nodded, stripped off the gloves and headed toward the bullpen. Eames was repacking the items when Sledge walked in. "So, we going to go get something to eat and talk?"
Eames finished loading up the items and said, "I need to get this to trace. I'll meet you in the deck." She looked up at him and missed him terribly.
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