Alley Katz (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 27) Read online

  Taylor’s stomach growled, and we all laughed.

  Morton was suddenly scratching at the back door. “I guess he must have smelled the stew,” Taylor said and let Morton into the kitchen.

  “High praise,” Annette said as I handed her the glass of wine. “Thanks, Dev. Now, Taylor, Dev mentioned you’re working on an art project, but he didn’t give me any details. Tell me about it.”

  Taylor went on to describe our meeting with Dennis. He didn’t mention Ramona Williams or the other girls who were waiting to interview Dennis when we left.

  “And you’ve already created some of these images?”

  “Yeah, I pretty much worked non-stop on them over the last day and a half, ever since we got home from Inkredible.”

  “Would you be willing to show them to me?”

  Taylor nodded vigorously and said, “I’ll run upstairs and get them.”

  “Oh, he seems like a really nice kid,” Annette said, as Taylor literally ran up the stairs.

  “Yeah, I don’t know much about him, other than he appears to have been living rough. Wait until you see his sketches. They’re pretty good.”

  “You’re a really decent guy for helping him, Dev,” she said and placed her hand on top of mine for just a moment. We heard Taylor hurrying back down the stairs. Annette reached for her wineglass and took a sip.

  Taylor stepped back into the kitchen, carefully carrying the various sheets with the images.

  “Set those over there, away from the wine glasses,” Annette said, pointing to a distant section of the kitchen counter.

  Taylor spread out the sheets, one next to the other for a total of eight. Each sheet had six images.

  “Oh my,” Annette said and moved alongside Taylor. “You did all these since last night?”

  “Yeah, and then today. You’re looking at a lot of hours.”

  “Where did you learn to draw like this? Did you take lessons?”

  “I never had a TV or a computer, so I had time to practice a lot. A guy I knew gave me some lessons.”

  “These are exceptional, Taylor. How old are you?”

  “I turned seventeen last spring.”

  “I’m very impressed. Tell me about them.”

  Taylor gave a brief description of each image. Occasionally, he mentioned some idea that he’d had that didn’t work as well as he thought, and he had to redo the image. “So once I had a sketch I was happy with, I would add it to one of these sheets. There might be a half-dozen or more workups before I felt comfortable enough to add it on here. Dennis was pretty adamant that this paper stock was only for the final version.”

  Annette nodded and said, “I’m very impressed. I mean that. Have you thought about a price?”

  “A price?”

  “A price per image, anywhere from fifteen to maybe a hundred dollars. That’s the market.”

  “I was just going to give them to Dennis. He said he’d pay me, but I think he was just being nice.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe discuss it with him. I’m sure he would be expecting to pay for these. They’re very good. I would like to make one suggestion.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “If I were you, I would think about adding some lower back tattoos. Lacy designs, butterflies, hearts, eyes, use your imagination, just like you did on these. You’re familiar with lower back designs?”

  “Not really.”

  “Mmm, popular with us ladies. Okay, here,” she said, turning her back to him and untucking her blouse. “Now don’t let Dev see this,” she said, bending over. “I drew the design years ago and had it done. As far as I know, I’m the only one with my blue hummingbird design. That might be another angle you’d want to consider. You could offer unique, one of a kind designs,” she said, turning back to face me and tucking the back of her blouse in as she talked. “Hey, we can talk more about this over dinner, but I had better dish up that stew.”

  We chatted over dinner. Taylor had two helpings of stew, which made Annette happy. “Oh, he is such a wonderful kid,” she said when he’d gone into the kitchen to dish up his second helping of stew. “Kid is probably the wrong term. He’s a very nice young man.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid he’s had to grow up a lot faster than most.”

  “There’s no family around?”

  “We haven’t had that conversation yet. I didn’t want to pressure him. I want him to feel safe and comfortable here, and then we can talk.”

  “But what if there’s family out there looking for him right now?”

  “If they’re looking for him, he hasn’t made any effort to connect with them. I’m pretty sure there’s something in the background. I just don’t know what, yet.”

  “Maybe there is but maybe not. I won’t push you, Dev, but you should have that conversation sooner rather than later.”

  Taylor came back into the dining room, all smiles, carrying another plate full of stew, roast potatoes, and red peppers.

  “Remember to save some room for dessert, Taylor.”

  “Not to worry, I won’t let any dessert go to waste.”

  I cleared the table while Annette and Taylor continued to discuss the art world. I dished up three slices of cheesecake and brought them into the dining room. I think I was on my second bite when Taylor set his fork down on the empty dessert plate.

  “All finished?” I asked.

  “Yeah, would you mind if I excused myself? I’d like to go upstairs and begin working on those lower back designs Annette mentioned.”

  “Go ahead, get back to work,” I said and chuckled.

  “It was really nice to meet you, Annette. Thanks for the encouragement and the ideas.”

  “You be sure to let me know how it all works out,” she said.

  Taylor nodded and hurried upstairs.

  I refilled our wine glasses, and we sat and talked. Actually, Annette did most of the talking, interrogating me about Taylor, wanting to know his background. “Dev, you don’t even know his last name? You at least have to find out the basics, if for no other reason than there might be family out there looking for him. Make the effort. Those aren’t just good sketches. They’re incredible. I’ll be honest. They’re some of the very best I’ve ever seen. You need to find out.”

  “Yeah, I know, Annette, but I don’t want to pressure him. He’s only been here a couple of nights. I want him to feel comfortable before I start giving him the third degree.”

  “What about school?”

  “He’s going to school. In fact, that’s where we first met. He was hiding in the school so he’d have a safe place to sleep. Which, by the way, was on the floor in a cloakroom. I think the only time he had food was probably lunch at school. He didn’t have any real friends. He told me the boys gave him a hard time, and none of the girls would talk to him. We went out the other day, got him some decent jeans, a couple of shirts, and a haircut. Now all of a sudden, some guy said hi to him, and a couple of girls looked like they might be interested. Things are starting to go well for him, and I don’t want to risk screwing that up.”

  “Okay, I get that, and it’s important. Now, can I give you an update on the paintings?”

  “Yeah, please.”

  “I would label them all as forgeries. That said, they’re all very good. The question still is, were they practice works? Was someone preparing for a final forged masterpiece, if you will, or do they represent multiple markets? I honestly have no idea. I wish you had a line on Eli Cummings.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Any word from Mr. Gustafson regarding his ‘Planting Time’?”

  “Not a word, which is probably a good thing. The less I hear from that guy, the better.”

  She smiled at that and said, “Believe me, I understand. Now, I don’t want you to take this personally, but I’m going to go home.”

  “You know you don’t have to do that.”

  She smiled and said, “Thank you. I know that, and I’d love to stay the night. But I think, under
the circumstances, it might be better for all involved if I’m home tonight.” She raised her eyes up toward the second floor. “Let me know how things go for Taylor with the tattoo designs.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” I said. We kissed at the dining room table. At her direction, I put the remainder of the stew in a large plastic container and set it in the refrigerator. I washed and dried her crockpot, placed it in the carrying case, and walked her to the door.

  “Thanks for a wonderful night, Dev. We’ll talk tomorrow. Do you want me to return those paintings to you?”

  “The Eli Cummings forgeries? Is it a problem if you hang onto them?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good, if you wouldn’t mind holding them for a bit longer, at least until I get our office secured. I want them to stay somewhere safe.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Thank you for a delicious dinner,” I said.

  “Mmm-mmm, you’re very welcome. Now, I’m taking a rain check on spending the night.”

  “I’m counting on it,” I said and walked her out to her car. I got another quick kiss, this time on the cheek. I stood on the sidewalk and watched until her taillights disappeared. I went back inside, cleared the dining room table, and cleaned up the kitchen. I settled in front of the TV, watched a couple of episodes of a mystery series, and went upstairs.

  Taylor was at the desk busily sketching out more designs. Morton was curled up on the floor, comfortable and sound asleep. I said good night and went to bed.

  Chapter 28

  It was Sunday morning, and I could sleep in late, so naturally, I was wide awake just a little after six. I showered, shaved, threw on some jeans, and headed downstairs. I poured myself a cup of coffee, turned on my laptop, and noticed my cellphone on the kitchen counter. Apparently, I’d set it there when Annette arrived last night. I turned it on to see if I should charge it and noticed I had two voice messages.

  “First message, left at four thirty-one AM,” the recording said and delivered my message. “Yeah, Dev, surprise, surprise, it’s Gladys. Against my better judgement, I decided to stop over last night. I thought we needed to talk. Boy, was I wrong. I watched the show as you kissed, groped, and grabbed that woman out on the street. I drove home and decided this just isn’t working out. So I packed everything of yours I could find, put it in a box, and left it in front of your car in the driveway.” Click.

  I replayed the message just to make sure I heard it correctly. Then walked out onto the front porch as I listened to the message again. A cardboard box rested in front of my car. A paint roller hung over the edge of the box. I could see what looked like my St. Paul Saint’s sweatshirt and baseball cap lying on top of whatever else was in the box. I walked down the front steps, across the lawn, and picked up the box.

  I pressed ‘7’ on my phone to delete the message and listen to the second one. “Next message, left at four thirty-three AM.”

  “Yeah, Dev, hey, sorry, I forgot to tell you, screw you!” Gladys screamed those last two words and disconnected. I carried the box inside, set it on the floor next to the front door, and headed back to the kitchen. It was too early to phone her, so I fooled around on my computer, trying to decide what I was going to say when I called her.

  Morton came downstairs maybe an hour later, and I let him out. I got his food and water dish ready and let him back in. I fooled around on the computer for another hour and a half and phoned Gladys just before ten.

  “Hello,” was how she answered the phone. In all the times I’d called her, I’d never heard her answer the phone like that.

  “Hi, Gladys, got your message this morning, actually, both messages. I’m wondering if I could stop over for a minute tonight.”

  Long pause. “What time were you thinking?”

  “Whatever time works for you, maybe around four this afternoon if you’re not busy.”

  “That will work. I’ll see you then.” Click

  I heard Taylor turn on the shower just before noon. I waited until he was out of the shower then fried up some bacon, scrambled some eggs, and made some toast.

  “Mmm, whatever you’re cooking smells really good,” he called, coming down the stairs a few minutes later. I set the plate on the kitchen counter and poured him an orange juice. Morton wandered over to Taylor and got his head scratched.

  “Dig in, Taylor. Were you up working late last night?”

  “Yeah, really late, but I think I got some nice designs laid out. You want to see them after breakfast?”

  “Yeah, I’d love to.”

  “I really like that Annette lady. She’s very nice. How long have you known her?”

  “Just a little more than a week. Louie, my office mate, introduced us. She works for an insurance company in the fraud division. She’s looking at some paintings I acquired, checking their authenticity.”

  “Authenticity?” he said and shoveled in another forkful of eggs.

  “Yeah, they’re forgeries of a landscape and a portrait, and we suspect they were going to be sold as originals. They could go for a hundred grand each. In my business, I occasionally have to deal with an unsavory individual, and one of them got me involved in this painting situation.”

  “He wants you to sell the forgeries?”

  “No, he wants me to find the artist who painted them. They’re very good, by the way.”

  “What’s going to happen once you find the artist?” Taylor asked and pushed the half-finished breakfast plate away.

  “Well, first of all, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to find him. So far, I’ve come up empty-handed. If I do find him, I think what I’ll probably do is tell him my client is looking for him, and he’d better leave town. My client is not a very nice person.”

  “You’re not going to call the police?”

  “I suppose I could do that, but as far as I know, no crime has actually been committed yet, so they really couldn’t make an arrest. If they did arrest him, I don’t think the guy would be safe in jail. My sometimes client is a guy named Tubby Gustafson. He’s not a nice person. He’s a criminal, and with his connections, even if the guy was locked up in jail, he wouldn’t be safe. I’m afraid it’s a pretty sad commentary on our society. You’re finished with that breakfast? You still have half of it left.”

  “I’m not really that hungry.”

  “Taylor, you were starving five minutes ago. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I guess I was just thinking about working, doing more drawings.”

  “Oh, yeah, let me see what you worked on last night. Give me just a minute to clean up the kitchen.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks again for all you’ve done for me, Dev. I really appreciate it.”

  “Thank you, Taylor. You know you’ve done a lot for me, too. You reminded me about what’s important.”

  “Well, thanks again,” Taylor said and headed upstairs. I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. I ate the bacon Taylor left on his plate and gave the scrambled eggs to Morton. I was about to go upstairs when my phone rang, Barbara Wright.

  “Hi, Barbara,” was how I answered.

  “Oh, well, at least now I know you’re alive.”

  “I was going to give you a call later today. Yesterday was kind of crazy.” I went on to tell her about the office break-in and then having Annette over as a dinner guest. As long as she provided dinner.

  “That’s a scam if I ever heard of one. How is Taylor doing?”

  “Incredible, the guy really has a talent for art.” I went on to tell her about all the work he’d put into the images for Dennis and how impressed Annette was with his talent. “Seriously, she was really impressed, and she knows what she’s talking about. She works with museums, auction houses, and collectors all around the country.” We talked for another twenty minutes, and I promised to call her with an update tomorrow. No sooner had I disconnected than the phone rang again, Annette.

  “Hi, Annette.”

  “Hi, Dev, I just wanted to thank you for a really
wonderful evening. I’ve been thinking about Taylor all morning.”

  “Oh? Is that good or bad?”

  “It’s good, very good. There’s a school for really gifted kids over in Minneapolis. It’s for eleventh and twelfth-grade students, a boarding school called the Art Academy. The emphasis is on art, but they study all subjects, graduate from an accredited high school, and it’s a doorway into some of the most prestigious art schools in the nation.”

  “Interesting. Of course, my first question would be, what does it cost?”

  “It’s twenty thousand per year, but I happen to know they have a very well-endowed scholarship program that could cover the cost.”

  “Define ‘could.’”

  She went on to explain in detail the requirements, not the least of which were letters of recommendation.

  “That sounds wonderful, unfortunately, a recommendation from me and even one from Dennis Richards would probably do more harm than good.”

  “You’re probably right, however, not to brag, but one from me would carry quite a bit of weight, and I could line up one or two more with a couple of phone calls. We could set up a meeting, introduce Taylor to these people, show them his work…”

  “By his work, you mean the tattoos?”

  “Dev, trust me, for someone to crank out all those images in that amount of time, it’s beyond impressive. The whole purpose of this school is to get young, talented individuals focused on the future. I think it would be perfect for Taylor.”

  “You know, as you’re telling me all this, it sounds like it could be just the thing for him, not to mention a roof over his head and a path forward.”

  “Exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “Let me put him on the line and—”

  “No, Dev. I’d like to present this to him in person, over here at my place.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you back. Is there a time you’d want us over there?”

  “Whatever works for you two. I’m here all day. Just let me know when you can make it. Let me give you my address,” she said, and I wrote it down on a note pad.

  “Okay, I’ll get back to you in a bit,” I said and disconnected.