Page 123 of Caper Crush
“What’s the name of the guy who gave you the painting to copy, and how have you been communicating?”
“His name is Edmund,” Matt says. “We exchanged phone numbers. He paid me in cash.”
William takes my hand. “It’s better for us if we’re not here when Edmund comes.”
“I know.”
We leave, and the other officer carries outPlaying Around 1:30.
“Can I take it, or does it have to stay in police custody?” I ask the police officer.
“For now, we need to keep it as evidence,” she says. “But Officer Johnson will be in touch. I know you need it for the Vertex Art Exhibit.”
“My sister was supposed to have dinner with Edmund tonight, but she just texted that he pushed back their meeting time. I didn’t tell her we found it,” I say. We walk back to the car.
“No Kimimoto,” I say to Uncle Tony and Takashi.
Takashi nods. “But you gotPlaying Around 1:30?”
“Yes.”
“And proof that it’s Edmund,” William says. “So hopefully he’ll tell the police where the Kimimoto is.”
Chapter thirty-two
Wegetintothecar, and William pulls away. We’re all silent as he navigates traffic.
I’m so happy we’ve foundPlaying Around 1:30, but I can’t express it because we still haven’t found the Kimimoto.
Where could it be? It wasn’t in Edmund’s apartment, and it wasn’t here. He could have given it to an art gang, but that wasn’t the intel that Officer Johnson received. His intel was that it had been stolen and was now for sale. But it was too hot right now for anyone to buy it. The police had done a good job of publicizing the theft and making it hot. But Officer Johnson and I both agreed that the end game was that he planned to make forgeries and sell those to buyers willing to deal in the undercover market. Then he could sell “it” more than once and keep the original for himself with its actual value.
We cross the Brooklyn Bridge. The Manhattan skyline rises up, like hope soaring. We’re close. We’ve foundPlaying Around 1:30, and we’ll find the Kimimoto. If he was going to destroy a painting, it would have beenPlaying Around 1:30, not the Kimimoto. It has value.
How could Edmund hate me this much? To steal these paintings, to sabotage my art exhibit and my relationship with my uncles.
I stare out the window at the passing traffic. It started with the tree house. He was jealous that I had a father who’d built that for me. At first, he’d pretended he had no interest in it, but then he succumbed. We played there for years. It had this pulley rope with a basket, and my dad even made a secret door that led to an interior ladder up to the roof. Annabelle, Edmund, and I had loved that hidden door. My dad framed one of my paintings and hung it on the wall.
But then Annabelle and Edmund created a secret pocket behind my painting as a way to pass notes. Only I discovered it. I was hurt that they used my painting as a means of sending notes. I worried my painting would be damaged by the frequent handling, and I was upset because the tree house was really mine and they were using it to cut me out. I banned Edmund from the tree house, but I got over it—and pretty quickly for a twelve-year-old. He was banned for only two weeks. But he’d beenreallyangry.
“Do you think Edmund would have put it in the tree house?” I ask. “We played there a lot when we were kids.”
“What tree house?” William asks.
“My dad built me this amazing tree house in our backyard. It’s still there.”
“A tree house would be risky,” Takashi says. “The painting could get destroyed there with one big thunderstorm, and he can’t guarantee that he’ll always have access.”
Still, I would bet it has something to do with our childhood in the tree house.
“It definitely wasn’t behind the paintings in Edmund’s apartment, right?” I ask. “I think maybe he hid it behind a painting. He and Annabelle used to pass notes by hiding them in a pocket he created behind one of my paintings in the tree house.”
“I definitely checked the four of them that were the right size,” Takashi says.
“Could he have hidden it behindPlaying Around 1:30?” I ask. “Should we go back and check?”
“Let’s just text Officer Johnson,” William says. “I don’t think you should be near him when he gets arrested.”
I tilt my head, thinking.
