Read Online Lady Justice on the Dark Side (Volume 19) by Robert Thornhill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Thornhill
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Cavendish, the Egyptian artifact collector, in the King Tut sting.
Kevin’s next task was assembling the surveillance equipment which would record the evidence that would nail Andrew Pitts and clear Jason Knight.
I was amazed as he pulled box after box of equipment he had used during his thirty years as an investigator, out of his closet.
After sorting through a tangle of wires and gizmos, he selected a tie tack that contained a tiny speaker which would transmit an audio signal to the recording equipment I would have in my car a block away.
A day later, everything was in place and we were ready to set our plan in motion.
We decided that Kevin would visit a couple of other galleries before hitting Heart of America. Undoubtedly, the sight of a big black limo sporting a driver decked out in a Jacobson chauffer’s hat making the rounds of the Crossroads district would get some attention.
Kevin showed up in a KITON Napoli black wool suit. When I asked him where he had come up with threads costing over two grand, he said it would be better if I didn’t know, so I didn’t push. Apparently there are some very exclusive haberdasheries on the dark side.
Forty-five minutes after making his appearance in the Crossroads district, Willie pulled up in front of the Heart of America Gallery. He hopped out, opened the door for Kevin and made a dignified bow as Kevin walked by.
Evidently, Andrew Pitts had seen or been informed of the presence of a wealthy buyer. He met Kevin at the door with a flute of bubbly champagne.
I pushed ‘record’ and listened to the conversation through a set of Kevin’s earphones.
“Welcome to the Heart of America Gallery. May I offer you champagne? It’s Dom Perignon 2004.”
“Why, yes. Thank you very much.”
“How may we be of service to you today?”
“I’m looking for a Thomas Hart Benton. I thought that surely, with Benton being a Kansas City artist, this would be the best place to find some of his work, but so far, I’ve been very disappointed.”
“Really, I’m surprised. I know of several galleries that have some fine lithographs. In fact, I have several myself. Would you like to see them?”
“Lithographs! Heavens no! I have one of the largest collections of oils in Boston. I’m looking for an oil by Thomas Hart Benton. Nothing less will do.”
“A Thomas Hart Benton oil is a rare thing. Most are in private collections like yours, or museums.”
“Rare, indeed! Why do you think I came all the way from Boston? Oh well, thank you for your time and for the champagne. I’ll just have to continue my quest elsewhere.”
“Hold on a minute. How long are you in town?”
“I’ll be leaving on my private jet tomorrow morning. I’ve heard there may be a Benton in a gallery in San Francisco.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Hotel Phillips in the Power and Light District. Why do you ask?”
“I --- uhhh --- just might know of a private collector who has a Benton oil. I’m not sure if he’ll part with it, but he might for the right price.”
“Really? What piece is it?”
“It’s just a small oil titled Construction Workers .”
“I know that piece. It would be perfect. What kind of offer would possibly persuade him to part with it?”
“I know he paid forty thousand for it.”
“Offer him fifty. I’d have to see it and check its authenticity, of course.”
“Of course. If he’s interested, may I call you at your hotel?”
“Absolutely! Just ask for Oscar Cavendish. But mind you, I’m off to San Francisco tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Mr. Cavendish. I’ll be in touch.”
Kevin headed back to the limo where Willie gallantly held open the door.
As soon as he was inside, Kevin tapped the mike. “Let’s hurry down to the
Kevin’s next task was assembling the surveillance equipment which would record the evidence that would nail Andrew Pitts and clear Jason Knight.
I was amazed as he pulled box after box of equipment he had used during his thirty years as an investigator, out of his closet.
After sorting through a tangle of wires and gizmos, he selected a tie tack that contained a tiny speaker which would transmit an audio signal to the recording equipment I would have in my car a block away.
A day later, everything was in place and we were ready to set our plan in motion.
We decided that Kevin would visit a couple of other galleries before hitting Heart of America. Undoubtedly, the sight of a big black limo sporting a driver decked out in a Jacobson chauffer’s hat making the rounds of the Crossroads district would get some attention.
Kevin showed up in a KITON Napoli black wool suit. When I asked him where he had come up with threads costing over two grand, he said it would be better if I didn’t know, so I didn’t push. Apparently there are some very exclusive haberdasheries on the dark side.
Forty-five minutes after making his appearance in the Crossroads district, Willie pulled up in front of the Heart of America Gallery. He hopped out, opened the door for Kevin and made a dignified bow as Kevin walked by.
Evidently, Andrew Pitts had seen or been informed of the presence of a wealthy buyer. He met Kevin at the door with a flute of bubbly champagne.
I pushed ‘record’ and listened to the conversation through a set of Kevin’s earphones.
“Welcome to the Heart of America Gallery. May I offer you champagne? It’s Dom Perignon 2004.”
“Why, yes. Thank you very much.”
“How may we be of service to you today?”
“I’m looking for a Thomas Hart Benton. I thought that surely, with Benton being a Kansas City artist, this would be the best place to find some of his work, but so far, I’ve been very disappointed.”
“Really, I’m surprised. I know of several galleries that have some fine lithographs. In fact, I have several myself. Would you like to see them?”
“Lithographs! Heavens no! I have one of the largest collections of oils in Boston. I’m looking for an oil by Thomas Hart Benton. Nothing less will do.”
“A Thomas Hart Benton oil is a rare thing. Most are in private collections like yours, or museums.”
“Rare, indeed! Why do you think I came all the way from Boston? Oh well, thank you for your time and for the champagne. I’ll just have to continue my quest elsewhere.”
“Hold on a minute. How long are you in town?”
“I’ll be leaving on my private jet tomorrow morning. I’ve heard there may be a Benton in a gallery in San Francisco.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Hotel Phillips in the Power and Light District. Why do you ask?”
“I --- uhhh --- just might know of a private collector who has a Benton oil. I’m not sure if he’ll part with it, but he might for the right price.”
“Really? What piece is it?”
“It’s just a small oil titled Construction Workers .”
“I know that piece. It would be perfect. What kind of offer would possibly persuade him to part with it?”
“I know he paid forty thousand for it.”
“Offer him fifty. I’d have to see it and check its authenticity, of course.”
“Of course. If he’s interested, may I call you at your hotel?”
“Absolutely! Just ask for Oscar Cavendish. But mind you, I’m off to San Francisco tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Mr. Cavendish. I’ll be in touch.”
Kevin headed back to the limo where Willie gallantly held open the door.
As soon as he was inside, Kevin tapped the mike. “Let’s hurry down to the
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