Christmas Male(62)

His eyes twinkled briefly again. “And the occasional puzzle the FBI brings me allows me to keep my wits sharp. I may continue to consult for them even after I’m released. But I don’t like the fact that I may have influenced my grandchild or my great-niece to get involved in my old lifestyle. What can I do to help?”

Fiona would have bet her badge that he was being sincere. Of course, she was dealing with a class-A con man. She waited another two beats, giving D.C. a chance to comment or give her some clue as to what his take was.

Franks broke the silence. “Let’s try this. There aren’t many who could make a high-quality copy of the Rubinov. I could give you some names.”

“We’d appreciate that. You’ve seen the necklace?” Fiona asked.

“Shall we say I had it in my possession for a brief time between owners?”

“When?” Fiona asked.

“About ten years ago.”

Just about the time Shalnokov first purchased the Rubinov, Fiona thought.

“You also have to be looking at Shalnokov for this,” Franks said. “He could recruit the kind of people who’d get the job done.”

There was a lot Arthur Franks wasn’t saying. A lot of questions he was raising. Had Franks helped Shalnokov gain possession of the Rubinov?

For now, those questions had to be ignored. Fiona leaned forward in her chair. “If that’s true and Shalnokov is behind the robbery, why would he involve a rank amateur like your great-niece? Or your grandson?”

“Shalnokov isn’t a stupid man. He must have been persuaded that Billy could do the job. And if something went wrong…” Franks shrugged, “A twenty-year-old kid makes a good fall guy.”

Fiona’s thoughts returned to what Amanda had said. “Would Shalnokov take steps to eliminate Billy afterward?”

Franks’s eyes narrowed and grew hard. “Yes, if Billy proved a threat. Or perhaps if he failed. Shalnokov doesn’t like to be disappointed. What can I do to help?”

Fiona glanced at D.C. and he pulled out four photos that he’d located on the Internet while she’d changed into drab clothes. The women in the pictures were Regina Meyers, Kathryn Lewen, Charity Watkins and Carla Mason.

“All of these women have a connection with either the diamond or your grandson. Do you recognize any of them?” she asked.

Franks studied them for a few moments. “There’s a family resemblance.”

“We know two of them are sisters.” Fiona pointed to Watkins and Lewen. “Fraternal twins.”

Then Franks tapped a finger on one of the other photos, and when he met her eyes, his were twinkling. “This one, I can tell you something about. I didn’t recognize her at first. I thought she looked familiar yesterday when I saw her in the newscast, but the camera didn’t stay on her for long. She’s Shalnokov’s spokesperson, right?”

“Yes,” Fiona said. “Dr. Regina Meyers.”

“Interesting,” Franks murmured as his eyes returned to the photo. “She’s changed the color of her hair and the style. The last time I saw her, it was much lighter.”

“When was that?” Fiona asked.

“Ten years ago. She’s a jewelry designer who’s made some of the best copies I’ve ever seen. One of them was a copy of the Rubinov.”

Fiona studied him for a minute, wondering how much more he would tell them. “Did she make it for you?”

He grinned. “No. I believe the copy was commissioned by Shalnokov. And she wasn’t calling herself Regina Meyers then. I knew her as Kate McGowan.”



FIONA WAS ENERGIZED as they arrived at her station. Although she and D.C. were banking on the fact that Arthur Franks was playing it straight, Fiona’s gut instinct told her he was. And they had something now. Not enough. But if Regina Meyers had made the copy, she was connected in some way. Fiona was getting that tingle she always got when the pieces were about to fall into place on a case. She and D.C. had come up with a plan—one that might give those pieces a shuffle and allow them to re-sort themselves. They just had to get Natalie’s and Chance’s approval and run it by General Eddinger.

“I’m starved,” D.C. said as they started up the stairs to the squad room.

“You’re always starved. I’m surprised we didn’t hit a drive-through on our way back from Cumberland.”

The faint sounds of Christmas music drifted to them on the first landing. But it didn’t prepare her for what she saw as they entered the squad room. The place was bursting with people, some in army fatigues, some in uniforms, others not. Here and there she recognized faces of her volunteers. And there seemed to be a slew of teenagers. The offices and interrogations rooms that lined the perimeter of the bull pen were also packed.