Three Dog Island Read online

  “Thanks, Sam.” I got up to leave. “Oh, by the way, when you do start ring shopping, be sure to let Sasha and me know. And in case you forget to, Frankie loves the antique look in jewelry.”

  “Even in a wedding ring?”

  “Guaranteed.”

  I called Charlie when I got home. He seemed a bit preoccupied, as had MacGregor the last time I spoke with him. Josh thought it had to do with a new case the two of them were working on. I thought it had to do with their friend Sharkey who had failed to show up for their soccer match. Probably both. Regardless, it did not stop Charlie from getting me the information I needed within an hour.

  The people from San Francisco who had purchased the duplicate “Tug of Heart” sculpture, were legitimate art investors, well known in the San Francisco art world. That meant one thing. They had been duped. He also managed to find out where they had purchased the sculpture. It was an internet purchase and was shipped from the San Juan Islands. Considering that it was ten years prior, it didn’t surprise me that they had no recollection of which island or the name of a gallery.

  I spent the next hour calling the galleries on all the islands. Nan McKeon, on Gael Island, recognized my voice. “Hello, Jenny, it’s nice to hear from you. Have you been working on your idea for an inter-island art walk?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t. I’ve been busy with my own work.” I didn’t explain which kind of work. “I do have a quick question for you though. Do you know if your gallery has ever carried any of Jasper Rosenthal’s work?” I would not have included Sasha’s uncle’s galleries in my investigation, but because he had not owned them at that time, I did.

  “Goodness, no! I wish!”

  “Even ten years ago?”

  “Even ten years ago. I was in high school, but I worked at the gallery and I knew every artist’s work well.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Absolutely. I know Jasper’s work. Trust me, I would remember that. What is this about, Jenny?”

  “Oh, I’m just trying to track down one of his sculptures. We were hoping to put it on display at the co-op for a while, but we can’t find records of having sold it from our gallery. Nor did he sell it directly.” It was a bit disconcerting how well I had learned to lie since working with Charlie.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help. But let me know if you track it down. And let me know if I can help with the island art hop concept.”

  “I will do that. Has your husband returned from back east?”

  “Yes, he has. And he’s been extremely busy. You should stop by the next time you’re on Gael and see some of his new work. He’s done some interesting things with glaze.”

  Speaking of which, it was time to get back to my own glazing. Once again I had hit a dead end, assuming that the people I had spoken with were telling the truth, that is. I’d called all the galleries in the island chain. If there were any others to be found, they were keeping a very low profile.

  I had no doubt that this was connected to the recent theft of Jasper’s model. It was exactly as my intuition had suspected. They took the model so no one would know it was stolen. And they used it to duplicate Jasper’s stone work. Clearly, this had been going on for at least ten years. That fact made me all the more determined to do whatever was necessary to preserve Jasper’s reputation.

  Chapter 21

  I was not normally one to wish away time, but I was ecstatic when Friday arrived. Not only had it been over a month since I’d seen my son, but for some reason, my cozy cottage had been feeling colder and emptier every day. Matthew would be arriving on the evening ferry. Unfortunately he would miss the open house, but promised he would let me take him to the gallery on Saturday to show off my display. We both knew the truth. It was my son I was showing off.

  Before leaving for the gallery, I checked in with Charlie to see if they’d made any progress on Josh’s case. The last I’d heard, Manny and his grandkids had followed Al Wallace up and down the Highway 5 corridor a couple more times but he had not detoured from what appeared to be a legitimate route.

  “We have a lead,” Charlie said.

  “A lead? Tell me!”

  “Can’t darlin’. I’m in a wee bit of a hurry.”

  “Charlie!”

  “Dinna fash yerself, lassie. Josh will tell you all about it when he sees you tonight.”

  “Josh? Tonight?”

  “Aye, he’s coming with Matthew. I’m afraid I have to run.”

  He hung up. My father had hung up. I stood there in my living room, my telephone pressed against my ear, my mouth hanging open. Charlie was up to something and he was not in any hurry to tell me about it. At least I would have Matthew and Josh at my disposal to grill.

  I dialed MacGregor’s home phone but there was no answer. Chills ran down my back, but I quickly dispelled the nervous energy with the knowledge that he was teaching, and if Josh was coming up with Matthew tonight, MacGregor had probably dropped him at the dorm. I tried MacGregor’s cell phone but it went straight to voice mail, further confirmation that he was in class. Matthew’s cell phone was next.

  He was just walking into his swing dance class. My athletic son, taking swing dance. The instructor was not stupid. She had gone directly to the athletic department to recruit dancers. “We need men with upper body strength,” she had said. “Men who can lift women easily.” The fact that she referred to them as men and women was impressive, another indication of her wisdom. But it was the film she had shown them of a couple dancing that had clinched it. Not only did it look immensely fun, but she happened to have some of the most attractive women on campus in her performance troupe. She knew how to win these guys over and since Matthew had done swing dancing in high school, he had been her primary target.

  “Why is Josh coming with you?” I asked quickly, hearing “Big Bad Voodoo Daddy” blasting through the phone. “Is it safe?”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ve disguised him. And we’ve found the bad guys.”

  “You found them? How? Where are they? Tell me!”

  “We will when we get there. Have fun at the open house. See you tonight!”

  He hung up. My son had hung up. I stood there in my living room, my telephone pressed against my ear, my mouth hanging open. Kind of felt like déjà vu.

  In retrospect I was glad I hadn’t reached MacGregor. If he too had rushed me off the phone I might have developed an instant inferiority complex.

  I exhaled a deep breath, gave Rocky a big hug to comfort him from all the tension that had been building in the room, made sure his water bowl was filled, explained why he couldn’t come with me, and headed off to the gallery. Unfortunately patience was not one of my assets. Fortunately I had the gallery open house to distract me.

  I arrived in time to help put out sandwiches and desserts for the occasion. We could have opted for wine and cheese, but the islanders were a hearty and down-to-earth bunch and preferred substance. Following Sasha’s lead with her muffins, I cut my apricot scones into quarters. Both were favorites and went quickly. Despite the raised prices, so did some of my art work.

  Army had brought my freshly-glazed pieces in for me so I wouldn’t have to pick them up after he fired them. I liked my new glazes. They were more muted than Dante’s colors, but bolder than my usual. As much as I liked his choices, they weren’t me. Instead of going lighter and brighter, I had gone deeper, settling on a scarlet blue, a deep violet, and an emerald green.

  A feeling of unexpected pride washed over me as I stood in the center of the art gallery that I had loved and respected for so many years and was now a part of. My eyes drifted to the wall with the historical photographs, the blow up of Winnie and Jasper being front and center. Rightfully so. They were two of the original artists and founders of this gallery.

  It saddened me that Jasper had not come. I held out hope until the end. As the final stragglers were reluctantly leaving the building, an hour after close time, I realized that Jasper was not the only one who had not shown up. A
ngelo Dante had not made an appearance either. Granted, the room had been crowded for the entire three hours—there isn’t a lot to do on Anamcara on a Friday night—but I certainly would have noticed someone in a wheelchair. I did see Emilio standing near his father’s display for a good part of the evening, but by the time I made my way across the room to ask after his father, he had disappeared.

  “Very nice work, Jenny,” Marilyn Burrows interrupted my thoughts.

  “Thank you, Marilyn.” I noticed her eyes were just as red as they had been the last couple times I had seen her. Working with toxic hair spray all day or tears? I put a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Yes, of course.”

  I stared at her, patiently waiting for her to answer truthfully. “Oh, it’s nothing, Jenny. Really. Burt just seems upset with me all the time lately.”

  “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

  She sighed and rubbed at her already-reddened eyes. “I think he’s just worried is all. Times are tough right now, you know? And people just aren’t renting equipment from him like they used to.”

  “That’s why he’s upset with you?”

  Her smile was tentative. “It’s just when I spend money on something.” She looked down at the package in her arms. It contained my deep scarlet blue vase. “I just can’t resist sometimes.”

  I took the package out of her arms and asked Alice to reimburse her for it. “Tell you what, Marilyn. When things are better for Burt, I’ll make you one just like it.”

  “Oh, would you, Jenny?”

  “I will. “ Or maybe I’d just bring this one along when I got my hair cut and give it to her as a tip.

  Driving home from the gallery, my mind darted back and forth between thoughts of Matthew’s and Josh’s impending arrival and the fact that uncharacteristically, Angelo Dante had not put in an appearance at the open house. Something was off, very off. I’d been living on this island for over three months now and I had been frequenting the gallery since my arrival, but was yet to meet Angelo Dante. Not only that, but I had been to his house twice, and neither time was he there. My mind flashed to my recent visit as I remembered walking up the front porch stairs to the house. There were four or five stairs but no wheelchair ramp. If Jeff and Emilio were so handy, surely they could make a wooden ramp to enable Angelo to get from the house to the studio and back again on his own.

  When I arrived home, I walked up my own porch stairs, glancing around as though I were looking for something. Winnie’s old pine table was off to one side, overlooking the pear orchard. How many pitchers of homemade lemonade had we enjoyed at that pine table? Her favorite swing was closest to the front door. The hours we had spent there were many and memorable. As heart warming as these thoughts were, they were not answering my question. What was I looking for?

  My mind flashed back to that day I had arrived at Dante’s house, walking up the front porch stairs, tapping on the door, turning and heading back down the stairs to the garage studio. Chills zipped up and down my spine. As I had walked across the driveway to the studio, I had stepped around something. It was several pieces of wood, resembling a palette. A wheelchair ramp, strewn aside as though it no longer had a purpose? The next thing I saw was Emilio Dante at work at his father’s wheel. Was that the reason Angelo Dante had not shown up today? If he were alive and well and making pottery on Anamcara Island, why was there no wheelchair ramp to the front door of his house and why was his son the only one I had seen throwing pots on his wheel?

  By the time the boys arrived, the fire was blazing in the living room fireplace. They raced up the front porch stairs before I could even open the door. Matthew picked me up and twirled me around in his arms as if it had been months, not weeks since he had seen his mother. Josh waited patiently to give me a hug, but not before I let out a squeal of surprise and laughter.

  “Would you have recognized me?” he asked.

  Staring at him, I shook my head. Dressed in a university track suit, a fake pair of glasses covering his face, a university baseball cap covering his now-blond hair, and a tiny fake mustache above his upper lip, I really had to wonder if I would have.

  After Rocky and Josh greeted each other and Matthew and Rocky created an immediate dog and boy bond, I sat them both down on the couch with a plate of store-bought cookies in front of them.

  “Where are the scones I’ve been hearing so much about?” Matthew asked.

  “Baking as we speak. Sorry, the last batch went to the open house.”

  He consoled himself with a single fudge cookie. Not a big sugar eater, he did make exceptions for home-baked scones.

  “Are you sure it was safe to come back here?” I asked Josh.

  “We passed him off as my college roommate.”

  “Good thinking. Did you talk to anyone on the ferry to Anamcara?”

  “Just Ned and an older lady, Myrtle somebody?”

  “Myrtle Ormsby? She runs the post office. Did you introduce yourselves?”

  “Oh, yeah. She wouldn’t let us not. But don’t worry. When she asked about our studies, Josh passed with flying colors.”

  Josh beamed proudly. Was it my imagination or was he the most lit up I’d ever seen him. Playing college kid must have done wonders for him. Or hanging out with Matthew.

  “I tried to get him to let me dress him up as a girl,” Matthew said, “but he wouldn’t go for it. Coward.”

  “Yeah, right. Who’s the coward?” Josh said. “I told you okay as long as you dressed like a girl too.”

  I quickly decided that it was the hanging out with Matthew part that was working the magic.

  “So, now tell me what this lead you have is and why everyone is too busy to have a decent conversation with me?”

  Josh and Matthew looked at each other. These two could have been brothers, at least when Josh’s hair color was its normal brown.

  Just when I thought they were conspiring not to tell me, they pointed at each other and said simultaneously, “He figured it out.”

  “We both did,” Matthew said.

  “Figured out what?” My hand was making an annoying circle gesture in an effort to get them to speed up this conversation.

  “Where the station is,” Josh answered. “It was the other night when Matt was over having dinner with me and Mac and Charlie. I was talking about my school work, a history report on Napoleon, remember?”

  “You mentioned it.”

  “Well, we started talking about the battle of Waterloo and stuff.”

  “And?”

  Matthew chimed in at this point. “I asked him if he understood what Waterloo had come to mean and he said you had explained it to him.”

  “Right, and?”

  “And I just kind of happened to mention that it’s also a train station in London.”

  “Oh my God! Waterloo Station, of course! That’s where the station is. On Waterloo Island!”

  “Right.”

  “Wow! Brilliant.”

  “Not really,” Matthew said, “Just an observation.”

  I remembered when my son had recently made a casual observation that had taken me directly to the solution of another mystery I had solved. “So, we’re sure Mark and Al would know about a train station in London?”

  “Apparently someone in their group does because we’ve confirmed it.”

  “You know exactly where they are on the island and what they’re doing? And why didn’t Charlie have time to tell me about this?”

  “He’s wrapped up in that case he and Mac are working on,” Josh said. “But he did find out that they own a piece of property there.”

  “But we couldn’t find one under their name. Did they use a fake name or an LLC?”

  “An LLC,” Josh said. “I guess there’s a lot of properties owned by LLC’s.”

  “When we came up with the Waterloo concept,” Matthew said, “Charlie zeroed in and checked out all the LLC’s that own property there. That’s when he found one that’s owned by—”
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br />   “Let me guess—Mark Simpson and Al Wallace.”

  “Not quite. Four names, right Matt?” Josh said.

  Matthew nodded. “Two Charlie hadn’t heard of. Anthony Templer and Daniel Gruen or something like that. And—”

  Josh finished his sentence. “Robert Arellano and Marcus Simpson.”

  “Marcus?” I asked.

  Josh cringed. “Guess so.”

  “And his partner, Bob, was part owner?”

  “Guess that answers our question if he was involved,” Josh said.

  “I guess it does. So, no Al Wallace?”

  “Nope,” Josh said. “It’s just a piece of raw land. They’ve put a big storage shed on it. Perfect for hiding their stash.”

  “No kidding.”

  “It looks like Charlie was right about their skimming operation. He sent Manny up there earlier today to set up a surveillance camera. Sounds like he found a place across the street where he could set it up.” Matthew was obviously privy to the operation.

  “That’s good news. But it’s so close to here. You really feel safe coming back?”

  Josh grinned at Matthew and then back at me. “It looks like you’ve sold more of your work, Jenny.”

  “My pottery?” Why were we suddenly talking about that?

  “I like your new colors. But you should have let that lady buy the vase she liked.”

  My eyes popped out of my head. “You were there? At the open house?”

  Josh nodded. “I walked past you at least five times. You looked right at me and never recognized me. Figured if I could get past you, I could get past anyone.”

  “Sorry, Mom. I wanted to come in, but it was more important to see if you recognized Josh. We can go in there tomorrow and you can show me everything. I figured you’d want to go over to Waterloo to see what Manny’s got set up too.”

  “Right, but Josh can’t take that risk.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll stay here with Rocky,” he said. “I brought my school work. And I can start refurbishing that armoire.”