Thanks Stella for the review! I'm glad you are enjoying it!
The Briefing
Alec Hardison paced in front of the bank of screens. "You know, I can do a lot of things—a lot of things. I can retask satellites. Reading the White House email is child's play. But what I can't do is determine whether someone is good at paying attention based on whether they filed their tax return. I can tell you whether they have arrest records. Paid their cable bill lately. Beyond that I can't give you a feel for how they will react."
"I've got a feel for it," Eliot hissed as he pressed an ice pack to his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he hoped the burn that flared with every movement would quickly pass into that ever familiar dull ache.
From his placement at the desk, Eliot could hear everyone's movements about the apartment. Hardison was still pacing, pausing, and clicking on that remote while he studied the screens. Parker was fiddling with the blinds. The tink of glass from the kitchen where Nate poured himself another drink. Sophie's perfume as she sidled up in the seat next to him.
"We got surprised," the grifter said in a gently placating tone. "We got away. They didn't follow us. Right?"
Feeling Sophie's intent look on him, Hardison turned. "Right."
"There's been messier." Sophie leaned forward against the illuminated glass-topped bar and perused several documents spread about.
Hardison stopped and scratched his chin as he studied the screen and then turned to the small laptop resting on the corner of the detached bar next to a bottle of his customary orange soda. Fingers flew over the keyboard. A pause. His hand went back to his chin. After a long moment, he looked up with an uncertain look that faded into a smile. "No police contact. No unusual calls." Turning back to the screens, he clicked the remote and pages of phone dumps came up. "There's not a single abnormal—for these guys—call. Wife. Girlfriend. Mistress. The stripper bar three blocks east. A lot of calls to there. Credit card records show that it's a regular haunt." He brought up another screen of data. "I'm surprised they even see their wives or girlfriends or whatever."
"We don't know that they know what was taken." Nate took up his customary position at the end, next to Sophie. He saw that she had discarded the garish outfit of earlier and was dressed in something elegant yet simple. "Parker!" he called between sips of his drink.
"Here!" the younger woman called as she ran from the window to the desk and threw herself into the last empty chair. She bumped Eliot's shoulder eliciting a growl from him as she reached across the hitter and planted the ring in front of Sophie. "It's fake," she announced.
Sophie just looked at her. "No. It's not."
Parker nodded. A glowing smile lighted her up. "Yes."
"It isn't," Sophie said. It couldn't be. Allistair was . . . The thought drifted off as she picked up the ring and studied it. "It can't be." Her voice was softer. That was so long ago, but the memory of those fleeting days in Montreal was so fresh. She admired the sparkled of the diamond—or whatever it was. "I was young and foolish. I was after a Monet. Stole his heart by accident." She shook her head. "I never questioned its authenticity."
Nate quietly watched as Sophie slipped the ring onto her finger and held her hand out. He liked it when she smiled like that.
"Do you mind?" Eliot asked, looking at Parker who was still stretched awkwardly in front of him.
Parker drew back to her seat, but eyed the ice pack. A mischievous look—like a moth to a flame—she lightly jabbed a finger into his shoulder. "Does that hurt?"
Eliot closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. A low rumble. "Parker."
"Run it," Nate said before things escalated. "What about the rest of the jewelry?"
"Parker and I went over the contents," Sophie said as she picked up the lavender paper from the pile on the desk. She shook her head. "Only three pieces matched Rose's list. The cross. One of the rings belonged to a Mrs. Jefferson. Another to a Maude something, I can't read Rose's handwriting."
"None of it was worth much," Parker pointed out. "Not a very good take. Some of it was even fake." She lowered her voice. "Really fake."
"I think the pieces are worth more in sentimental value," Sophie explained while still admiring the ring she had almost sacrificed to the cause.
Parker gave her that curious look. The one she often had when she didn't understand.
"The rest of that list is long gone," Nate said. He set his glass down. "If there had been anything of worth, it would have already been moved."
Another gulp of orange soda and Hardison leaned against the bar at the end next to Parker. He reached back casually, the remote still in hand, and clicked. An image of the pawn shop came up. "This place," he began with a smile, "is like in the stone ages. Besides, their sad attempt at a security system—"
"Tapes!" Parker called out, but the grin faded, and she shrank back a little when everyone just stared at her.
Hardison shook his head and continued, "They have a computer but let's just say they aren't using it for inventory." Splash pages to half a dozen porn websites scrolled across the scene.
"Ew." Sophie grimaced and then looked a little more closely as the images quickly slid off the right side of the screen. "What were they doing to that teddy bear?"
"They'll never be able to get that out of fur." Parker shook her head.
Eliot just looked at the thief.
Leaning a little closer to Nate, Sophie asked, "Does that sort of thing interest you?"
Nate took a moment to process the question. "No." He shook his head as if to dismiss the thought. "Of course not. No."
Sophie had that look.
"What?"
Laughter from the end of the desk. "There are some freaky people out there," Hardison began. "If you think that's weird, one of these sites—"
"Can we just get on with it?" Nate demanded from behind his glass.
Everyone looked at Nate, but after a moment, Hardison shrugged and continued with the slide show. Layers of papers that Parker had quickly scanned flowed across the screen. "Our friends Alan and Felix do everything on paper. Felix bought out his brother's share of the business. Seems he's doing twenty-five to never seeing daylight again for the murder of his wife and her boyfriend."
"Do we know when the items were taken from Rose's friends?" Eliot asked.
"Nah, man," Hardison replied. "There's no way of knowing when the stuff was stolen or when—if—it passed through Lucky A's."
Sophie glanced up at the screen. She narrowed her gaze as she studied the documents. "That would explain the relative non-reaction to our visit." She sighed. "The items could have been gone from their owners for weeks, maybe months before they realized they were missing. We can't tie the current pawnshop owners to those victimizing Rose's friends."
Hardison loved it when the details came together. "Not exactly. Parker did find something interesting."
The thief grinned even if she didn't know what the interesting object she had found was.
Displayed large across the monitor bank was an image of the Home Keepers business card Parker had found in the safe. Hardison picked up the lavender paper from the lighted bar top. "Guess what all these people have in common?"
"I know! I know!" Parker said excitedly as she waved her hand about like an over eager student. "They all use the same service!"
"A caregiver would be the best way to get access to the victim's belongings," Sophie said.
"Marisa is a caregiver," Parker pointed out.
Hardison shook his head and spoke softly to the eager blond. "Marisa doesn't work for Home Keepers."
"She's an independent contractor," Nate explained. "Hired by Rose's grandchildren to help her with day-to-day needs," Nate said as he studied the screen.
"The people they are supposed to trust are the ones robbing them. Sweet." Eliot adjusted the ice pack. The crunch of the shifting ice drew Parker's attention again.
The picture of an uptight woman in her late thirties appeared across the screens. "Meet Lauren Brandt, sole proprietor of Home Keepers," Hardison said as he motioned toward the image. "No longer associated with The Brandt Group. She's separated from James Brandt." Images of a well-dressed man standing in front of a recently renovated old town building and of him in his office.
"A fan of Picasso," Sophie noted, spying several small framed works in the background.
Hardison clicked the remote and an exterior of the Home Keeper's storefront along with an old newspaper ad of Lauren dressed in the Home Keepers' uniforms. "Lauren began as an employee about fifteen years ago when it was owned by Sylvia Carter." He stopped and stared at Parker who was poking at Eliot's shoulder. "Seriously?"
Eliot growled and shifted away from the thief.
Parker turned and faced forward, her fingers intertwined on the desk in front of her and offered up her best, innocent grin.
"As I was saying," Hardison continued even as he gave Parker an admonishing shake of his head. "At that time, Home Keepers prided itself on having the best, most secure services for their elderly or handicapped clients. Lauren was looked into twice by an internal investigator for stealing from the clients. Second time got her fired, but there were no public accusations. Lauren tried to sue Home Keepers, but lost. So she married a rich guy who bought Sylvia Carter out when she ran into financial trouble about six years ago.
"Now here's where it turns all soap opera. Jimmy cheats on Lauren with his secretary, Lauren files for divorce, and moves into an apartment, and then hired a guy off Jimmy's renovation crew. Now Jimmy's pissed, he cuts off all financial backing to Home Keepers."
"Without Brandt's money, Home Keepers is going under," Sophie noted.
"And Paul?" Hardison shook his head. "He's not been a very good boy. He shouldn't be working for a business like that, let alone have a financial stake in it. He has a history of picking up things while working jobs." A mug shot of Paul Wallace popped up.
Nate listened as Hardison outlined Paul's criminal history, but his gaze never slipped from the screens. "Have there been any formal complaints lodged against Home Keepers?"
Hardison shook his head. "There were a few at the transition. I don't think some liked the early changes when Mrs. Brandt took over. If anything, the clients love their helpers. Wish there were more of them, but no one has said one bad thing about the company, at least, not formally. Well, everyone except Sylvia Carter and Community Hope. She can't say anything nice about them and refuses to invite them to support their annual benefit."
"Since Lauren took over," Nate observed, mostly to himself. His gaze returned to the image of Lauren. After a few moments of silence, a smile crept across his face. "Let's go steal us a granny." He slapped the glass top and walked off leaving the other four to exchange uncertain looks.
"He really has gotten creepier since prison," Parker noted.