Page 63 of Ruthless Cross

"Only the best for Arthur," Callie replied. "Have you ever been to the condo on Maui? It's beautiful, too. It's on the beach in Wailea. Maybe we should include that on our list of places to search."

He smiled. "I'm betting you'd be happy to go there with me, too."

"Getting away to the islands does sound lovely, but not realistic." She paused, then frowned, her gaze dropping to the gun holstered on his hip and just visible under his brown leather jacket. "Are you expecting trouble?"

"I'm always prepared for trouble, whether I'm expecting it or not."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Yes."

"That must have been strange. I don't know if I could pull the trigger on anyone."

"You could, especially if it was to protect someone else. I have no doubt about that." His gaze moved to the security camera in the corner of the porch. "Do you have access to the cameras here?"

"I don't, and I doubt it's on my mom's phone. She rarely came here."

"That's fine. I can get into it later. Tell me what I'm going to find on the first floor."

"Living room, dining room, then a kitchen and walk-in pantry on one side. On the other side, two bedrooms and baths plus a guest bath, and a small den."

"Second floor?"

"Three bedrooms with attached baths, a laundry room, another family room, and that's it. Are we going in?"

"I am. You wait here."

"Is that one of your orders?" she asked dryly.

He gave her a small smile. "It is. So, please, do it."

"Since you said please…" She put in the door code and then stepped back, her gaze widening as he drew his weapon, then opened the door.

Stepping onto the cool gray tile, his gaze moved across the rooms adjoining the entry, making note of the floor plan, which was exactly as Callie had said. From the entry, a staircase with an ornate iron railing wound its way up to the second floor. He listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the steady click of a large clock on the wall. He walked quickly through the rooms. Nothing was out of place. No dishes on the kitchen counter or in the sink. All of the beds were made in the guest rooms on the main floor. The living room and dining room were impeccably neat.

Jogging up the stairs, he looked through the master bedroom and bath, the two other guest rooms, and the living space, and then came back downstairs. Callie was standing in the doorway, giving him an expectant look. "I'm still technically outside."

"You can come in. The house is empty. It doesn't look like anyone has been here, but you said Arthur was here last Wednesday."

"That's what Layana told me. I'm sure Arthur has a cleaning service that comes in after every visit and perhaps even more frequently. What do we do now?"

He pulled the envelope of photos out of his inside jacket pocket. "To start, let's look for these paintings. I did a little more research this morning, and I was able to determine that they were all stolen, these first two from the museum in Madrid I told you about earlier, these three from a museum in Paris, and the last one from the home of a German billionaire during a burglary in which a diamond was stolen along with the painting."

"Were these thefts recent?"

"Within the last five years, the most recent eight months ago."

He handed her three pictures. "You concentrate on these; I'll take the other three."

They started in the living room where three paintings were on display, none of which matched those displayed in the photos. And upon closer inspection, he could see that they were all copies, good copies, maybe worth a couple thousand each, but they weren't as valuable as those in the house in Pacific Palisades. That didn't surprise him.Why would Arthur risk leaving priceless art in a vacation home in Palm Springs that was unoccupied half the year?

In the master bedroom, there was only one painting, and it was also a copy. While he was in the room, he checked the drawers of the nightstand and found a mystery novel and a digital reader as well as some very expensive headphones.

"Is your mom a reader?" he asked.

"That would be Arthur. My mom doesn't have an attention span suited to books. She prefers reality TV."

"Which has nothing to do with reality," he said dryly.

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