Ruth dropped him off at the van, and Nigel got in and started the engine. He rolled down the window and waved to Ruth. Everything was just as the thief had said it would be. And even though the van was parked in a metered zone, he didn’t even have a ticket on it.
Nigel looked at his watch and realized that Leona Brueger probably had not arrived back in L.A. yet, so he drove straight to the Hollywood Hills. He had a few random thoughts about the possibility of pulling this off by himself, but he realized it would be impossible. There were two thieves at least, the one who drove the van and the one who drove the Volkswagen. Nigel needed his moronic crime partner, Raleigh Dibble, and he wanted a conversation face-to-face.
It was astounding to hear Nigel Wickland on the gate phone. Raleigh, still in his pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, truly thought that he’d seen the last of Nigel. It was infinitely more astounding to look out and see Nigel parking the Wickland Gallery van on the faux-cobblestone driveway.
Raleigh jerked open the door and said, “They caught them?”
Nigel walked right past him into the house and said, “No, they didn’t catch them.”
“Then how… what…?”
“I’m afraid it’s come down to a life-or-death situation, Raleigh. It’s us or them.”
Raleigh and Nigel sat at the kitchen table, and Raleigh listened slack-jawed to the incredible turn of events that resulted in Nigel recovering his cargo van. And when Nigel was finished, he said, “They’ve got our paintings. They’re blackmailers as well as thieves. Of course, they could testify that I was here in the van, and that you and I had stolen the Brueger paintings before they stole the van. They could put you and me in prison if they wish to. Or I can pay them twelve thousand dollars and hope that the blackmail does not continue for the rest of my days.”
Raleigh said, “The important thing is to keep them from being arrested, is that it?”
“Precisely,” Nigel said.
“Stop saying that,” Raleigh said.
“What?”
“Never mind. Do you have twelve thousand dollars?”
“Just,” Nigel said. “As soon as I leave you, I’m going to the bank. It will clean out my reserve account and I’ll have trouble explaining it to Ruth, especially since I’m about to lay her off.” He paused then, shook his head wearily, and said, “It’s the hardworking people like me who are hurt the most by this fucking recession.”
“Nigel,” Raleigh said after some thought, “if this isn’t some kind of police setup and you’re able to buy the paintings back, we could still come out of this thing.”
“I’m positive it’s not a police setup,” Nigel said. “With all the things he said to me, it would be considered entrapment. I’ve watched enough television to know that much. No, he’s our louche little thief and he’s not in police custody.”
“Well, then, if we wait and we do the deal, we’re not much worse off, other than you losing twelve grand. Which you can take out of my half million.”
“Oh, that is magnanimous of you, Raleigh,” Nigel said. “Magnanimous and fucking obtuse.”
“One of these days you’re going to call me one name too many,” Raleigh said, “you arrogant pansy.”
Ignoring that, Nigel said, “There is one thing of great concern here. The thieves will spend their twelve thousand on women or drugs or whatever they fancy, and then they might have a bit of a think. They might try to find out about the provenance of the paintings. It’s not hard to do since you may have noticed that Sammy Brueger’s name, address, and phone number were on a card stapled to the stretcher bar on both pieces. Every art dealer and auction house on the west side of Los Angeles knew about Sammy Brueger and his collection. The thieves could learn the approximate value of the pieces and feel they’d been cheated. Yes, the fucking thieves would then feel that we stole from them. That would let the cat out and they’d know something is amiss and come after me for everything I’ve got.”
“What could they do? Go to the police and say they stole the van?”
“No, but the worm I was talking to might have a smarter crime partner who could contact Leona Brueger either by letter or phone and ask some pertinent questions about The Woman by the Water and Flowers on the Hillside. And perhaps offer Leona some information for a price, information that concerns Nigel Wickland and his van. Leona is a fool in many ways, but she can be shrewd and ruthless when she wants to be. She’d put her finger on it. And she’d call the police, and our whole scheme would unravel.”
With that, Nigel walked to the larger replica on poster board and said, “Come here, Raleigh. Touch this.”
Raleigh complied, and then Nigel said, “Walk down the corridor and touch a few of the legitimate pieces.”
“Yes,” Raleigh said. “If she literally puts her finger on it, she’ll know. They feel completely different from the real paintings.”
“Precisely,” Nigel said.
“Well, what’re you suggesting here, Nigel?”
“I think you know,” Nigel said. “Were you able to see anything other than silhouettes when they drove out of here?”
“No, I saw one person in the van and one person in the VW bug.”
“Both were men, I presume?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so.”
“They’re thieves,” Nigel said. “And blackmailers. They’re scum who don’t deserve to live.”
Raleigh Dibble said, “I’m not killing anyone, Nigel. Not for a million and not for ten million.”
“Not even to keep from going to state prison?”
“You’d bring me into it, wouldn’t you? You’d tell them everything.”
“Turnabout is fair play,” Nigel reminded him. “I’d make the best deal I could with the prosecutors. I learned that from you.”
“You’re a miserable shit,” Raleigh said.
Nigel said, “Can you make me a goddamn vodka martini, please? It might make it easier if I should decide to go home and shoot myself.”
Raleigh felt like weeping the entire time he was making martinis for both of them. When he was finished, he said, “I gave you a twist instead of an olive. You don’t look like an olive person.”
“Thank you,” Nigel said quietly. “I take that as a compliment.”
“Okay, we won’t be safe until we get the paintings back,” Raleigh said. “That much I can see. So what if we get them and put them back in the frames where they belong?”
“And forget the million dollars?”
“Yes, and just be grateful not to be going to prison.”
Nigel thought for a moment and said, “And if the thieves demand more extortion money not to tell Leona Brueger how her paintings got to be temporarily stolen, then what?”
“You just deny everything. You were never here, which I would verify. The person who contacted her with the ridiculous story about her paintings being stolen is just some Hollywood madman. The town is full of lunatics.”
“When’re they arriving?” Nigel asked.
“I still don’t know. I’ve been expecting a call all morning.”
“All right,” Nigel said. “Then it depends on when the thieves call me and when we can deliver the money and get the paintings. We would have to get the paintings back here and into the frames before Leona Brueger enters this house again. But we still would not be safe from future danger. Is this what you really want?”
“Stay in close touch with me today, Nigel,” Raleigh said.
“Don’t worry, I shall.”
Raleigh said, “When you threatened to shoot yourself, I was wondering, do you really have a gun?”
“Yes, at the gallery for protection. Why? Could it be that you are possibly coming around to the conclusion that if we are ultimately faced with losing the million dollars and going to prison, then we would have no option but to try our very best to remove the thieves from our lives?”