Chapter 8 - The Records Fire
The fire was small.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that it started inside the paper archive containing acquisition files from the exact years investigators were reviewing.
Sprinklers activated quickly.
Most boxes survived wet.
One shelf did not.
Security cameras showed a masked person entering through the loading bay.
My old executive code opened the alarmed door.
The code had been retired six months earlier.
Only three people should have known it.
Me.
My longtime collection manager Linda Cho.
And Evelyn.
Linda volunteered her phone, home security footage, and vehicle data before anyone asked.
She had been at home.
Evelyn's lawyer said she was also home under supervision.
Investigators confirmed it.
Someone else had the code.
The archive access logs revealed an old fourth user.
Martin Vale.
My personal assistant for seventeen years.
Martin was the man who booked my travel, screened my mail, coordinated Marianne's divorce appointments, and once slept in a hospital chair when I had pneumonia.
I called him.
No answer.
Police went to his condo.
Empty.
His passport was gone.
I felt sick.
Genevieve said, "Don't decide yet."
I looked at her.
"You're telling me that?"
"Somebody has to."
Martin's bank records were reviewed under warrant after investigators tied his credential to the break-in.
Monthly transfers appeared from Kensington Advisory.
Not enormous.
$7,500.
Consulting.
For thirty months.
Martin had been paid by my fiancee while working for me.
He was arrested the next day at a bus terminal in Indiana.
No international escape.
No dramatic private jet.
A bus to Ohio and nine thousand dollars cash.
He cooperated quickly.
His explanation was embarrassing in its simplicity.
Debt.
His husband had died after a long illness.
Medical bills remained.
Evelyn offered money for "collection research."
At first Martin gave her schedules.
Which hotel would receive which paintings.
When I traveled.
Which files I personally reviewed.
Then he gave her old door codes.
Later, he intercepted internal questions from Linda and redirected them to Evelyn.
"Did you know the art was stolen?" I asked through investigators.
Martin said no at first.
Then maybe.
Then yes, near the end.
That progression mattered.
He had not joined a criminal scheme in one heroic evil decision.
He had accepted each next request because admitting the truth would expose the previous one.
I knew that pattern.
People protect the mistake already made.
Martin admitted setting the records fire after Sebastian called him.
Sebastian told him the old files would make Martin look like the mastermind.
He panicked.
Then Martin said one more thing.
"Evelyn was not marrying you for the company."
I stared at the interview transcript.
"What does that mean?"
Martin continued.
"She already had access. The wedding was for something else."
"What?"
He looked down.
"Your name after hers."
I frowned.
"My name?"
Martin nodded.
"She had three private sales scheduled for the month after the wedding. Every catalog listed the seller as Evelyn Vance, from the Vance Collection."
----------------------------------------
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
May you like
If you enjoyed the story, bookmark my site: https://metro.treeiq.biz
New stories are posted daily, so check back for updates.
