Page 3 of Donovan Blake: Passion

“That can wait. I don’t want to give you false hope, but I think I can wrap this up fairly quickly.”

“But…how?”

“No promises, but whoever did this had help from inside the house. That makes things easier.”

“Do you think it’s related to the string of recent art thefts I’ve been reading about?”

“Most likely, but you’ll have answers soon. I’ll fetch Phoebe and we’ll get ready. Please ask Jane to stop by in about ten minutes. One last thing, where will you be if I need you?”

“In my study. It’s the third door on the left when you leave here.”

* * *

A short time later, enjoying freshly brewed Italian coffee and chocolate croissants. Phoebe and Donovan planned their strategy, then settled back and waited for Jane. When she walked in, even though he’d seen her theatrical makeup and wild hair on camera, Donovan was still alarmed by her appearance.

“Have a seat, Jane,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. “Where’s the Halloween party? Will you be trick or treating?”

“Excuse me?”

“I assume that’s why you made yourself look like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“How dare you!”

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he continued, ignoring her righteous indignation and glaring at her. “I know you were involved in the theft of the painting. You’re going to prison. So is your boyfriend and anyone else involved.”

The first thing he saw in her eyes was complete disbelief, then abject fear.

“You’re crazy!” she suddenly shouted. “If you try to implicate me you’ll be sorry.”

“Were you in the room when it was taken?” he asked pointedly.

“Of course not.”

He glanced at Phoebe, who immediately scratched her cheek with her left hand.

“Jane, you’re on video. You and—”

“That’s impossible. The cameras were turned off—at least--that’s what the security people said,” she added hastily.

“I’m very familiar with this particular system. It has features others do not. For example, when all the cameras are disabled, after thirty-seconds one camera automatically turns itself back on. Apparently the technician who gave you the information didn’t know that.”

“But there were no recordings. We checked.”

“It can’t be accessed in the normal way. I’m calling in your father so we can all watch it together,” he added, picking up his cellphone. “Then I’ll contact the local police who will—”

“No! Don’t! Wait.”

“For what? My work is finished here. The playback will speak for itself, and I’m not interested in—”

“Please—just wait. I know where the painting is. We can put it back like it never happened.”

“But, Jane it did happen. You committed a crime and your father must be informed…unless…” he murmured thoughtfully.

“What? Anything, just tell me.”

“First, is the portrait nearby and unharmed?”

“It’s in the basement beneath the library. I even covered it with a cloth.”

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