Read Online Tokyo Heist by Diana Renn - Free Book Online
Authors: Diana Renn
Tags: People & Places, Asia, Juvenile Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, Art, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Art & Architecture
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As Mitsue comes forward, it’s like she’s walking out of a painting.
Mitsue greets us warmly, then excuses herself to fix our tea.
Both Kenji and Mitsue act gracious, the perfect hosts. But they look exhausted. I can tell the investigation is taking its toll.
I sit on a long, white leather couch, at the far end from my dad and Kenji. I inspect a collection of framed photos on a table behind the couch: snapshots of Mitsue and Kenji on exotic vacations. One way to hide in the open is to look absorbed in something; my friends and I do this all the time at school. If I’m looking at pictures, I’ll vanish, and my dad and Kenji will talk.
I pick up an old black-and-white picture of two Japanese boys. It’s a formal picture, taken in a studio, with the boys dressed in identical outfits: crisp button-down shirts and pleated pants. The older, bespectacled boy, around twelve years old, smiles with his mouth closed. He faces the camera squarely, but his eyes rest on the younger boy. He looks protective. The little guy, with tousled hair, looks right at the camera with an impish, gap-toothed grin. I’m guessing this is young Kenji and his little brother Tomonori. I stare at Tomonori, trying to find hints of the sadness that would lead him to jump off a subway platform as an adult. I can’t see the shadows. He’s radiant.
“Yeah, so, tomorrow’s my summonsing,” my dad says to Kenji.
I clutch the photo frame .
“Yes. I feel terrible, Glenn, putting you in this awkward position. It is but a formality. You know Mitsue and I have no suspicions about you. Clearly, you were teaching that night, and besides, you are an artist. Artists are not art thieves. The idea of it is absurd.”
“Well, thanks, I appreciate that. Have the detectives talked to anyone else yet?”
“Margo and Julian. They’ve been cleared. The gallery’s security tape proved they were at the gallery at the time, planning the show. And UPS documents proved that Julian signed for a delivery there that evening.”
I know Skye was questioned on Friday, too. It’s all I can do not to speak up and ask what came of that. But my dad beats me to it. “And Skye? They talked to her, I guess?”
“Yes. She is considered a person of interest.”
My dad frowns. “She didn’t do it.”
“This is a sensitive subject. I should not have mentioned it.”
“No, no. I want to know. What are they saying about her?”
“Apparently, there was an incident, three years ago. Skye was questioned about missing art. She was rehousing a client’s collection. A Matisse sketch vanished. It was never recovered.”
My dad chews his lip. “And now they think she’s taken the van Goghs? It’s pure coincidence, Kenji. Skye takes her job very seriously. Besides, she wasn’t anywhere near here on Wednesday evening. She runs at Green Lake every Wednesday, rain or shine.”
Kenji smiles sympathetically. “Yes. I’m sure. But a hazard of running alone is that there is no one to prove you were doing that.”
“She has nothing to do with this. Nothing at all!”
I’m surprised at how passionately my dad is defending Skye, a person he just broke up with.
Kenji strokes his chin. “Her conservation studio has an excellent legal team. I am sure she is well represented and her name will be cleared. And then we’ll be happy to work with her again. I am sorry. I am aware it must be difficult to hear such things about your fiancée.”
“What—what did you say?” my dad asks, echoing my own thought. Fiancée?
“Skye told me your news. Last Monday, when she was here working.”
“But I’m not—we’re not—I never—oh, shoot.” My dad looks really unhappy now. “Look, Skye and I decided to part ways after my show on Thursday. And we weren’t engaged.”
“Oh. So the ring—it wasn’t from you?”
“Ring? What ring?”
“Matcha!” Mitsue sings out as she comes in with a black-and-red tray.
1
0
I want to hear more about the supposed engagement
Mitsue greets us warmly, then excuses herself to fix our tea.
Both Kenji and Mitsue act gracious, the perfect hosts. But they look exhausted. I can tell the investigation is taking its toll.
I sit on a long, white leather couch, at the far end from my dad and Kenji. I inspect a collection of framed photos on a table behind the couch: snapshots of Mitsue and Kenji on exotic vacations. One way to hide in the open is to look absorbed in something; my friends and I do this all the time at school. If I’m looking at pictures, I’ll vanish, and my dad and Kenji will talk.
I pick up an old black-and-white picture of two Japanese boys. It’s a formal picture, taken in a studio, with the boys dressed in identical outfits: crisp button-down shirts and pleated pants. The older, bespectacled boy, around twelve years old, smiles with his mouth closed. He faces the camera squarely, but his eyes rest on the younger boy. He looks protective. The little guy, with tousled hair, looks right at the camera with an impish, gap-toothed grin. I’m guessing this is young Kenji and his little brother Tomonori. I stare at Tomonori, trying to find hints of the sadness that would lead him to jump off a subway platform as an adult. I can’t see the shadows. He’s radiant.
“Yeah, so, tomorrow’s my summonsing,” my dad says to Kenji.
I clutch the photo frame .
“Yes. I feel terrible, Glenn, putting you in this awkward position. It is but a formality. You know Mitsue and I have no suspicions about you. Clearly, you were teaching that night, and besides, you are an artist. Artists are not art thieves. The idea of it is absurd.”
“Well, thanks, I appreciate that. Have the detectives talked to anyone else yet?”
“Margo and Julian. They’ve been cleared. The gallery’s security tape proved they were at the gallery at the time, planning the show. And UPS documents proved that Julian signed for a delivery there that evening.”
I know Skye was questioned on Friday, too. It’s all I can do not to speak up and ask what came of that. But my dad beats me to it. “And Skye? They talked to her, I guess?”
“Yes. She is considered a person of interest.”
My dad frowns. “She didn’t do it.”
“This is a sensitive subject. I should not have mentioned it.”
“No, no. I want to know. What are they saying about her?”
“Apparently, there was an incident, three years ago. Skye was questioned about missing art. She was rehousing a client’s collection. A Matisse sketch vanished. It was never recovered.”
My dad chews his lip. “And now they think she’s taken the van Goghs? It’s pure coincidence, Kenji. Skye takes her job very seriously. Besides, she wasn’t anywhere near here on Wednesday evening. She runs at Green Lake every Wednesday, rain or shine.”
Kenji smiles sympathetically. “Yes. I’m sure. But a hazard of running alone is that there is no one to prove you were doing that.”
“She has nothing to do with this. Nothing at all!”
I’m surprised at how passionately my dad is defending Skye, a person he just broke up with.
Kenji strokes his chin. “Her conservation studio has an excellent legal team. I am sure she is well represented and her name will be cleared. And then we’ll be happy to work with her again. I am sorry. I am aware it must be difficult to hear such things about your fiancée.”
“What—what did you say?” my dad asks, echoing my own thought. Fiancée?
“Skye told me your news. Last Monday, when she was here working.”
“But I’m not—we’re not—I never—oh, shoot.” My dad looks really unhappy now. “Look, Skye and I decided to part ways after my show on Thursday. And we weren’t engaged.”
“Oh. So the ring—it wasn’t from you?”
“Ring? What ring?”
“Matcha!” Mitsue sings out as she comes in with a black-and-red tray.
1
0
I want to hear more about the supposed engagement
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