I took the phone and studied the images myself.
“The Mob, the mafia, all of them at one time or another have been involved in art theft,” Charlie told us. “Sometimes it’s one major piece—they get in, they get out. Other times, it’s like an entire arm of their crime ring. Because of the supplies, planning, and coordination necessary for this kind of theft—and later, the sale of such pieces—you often need connections that run deep. Organized crime syndicates can provide those.” He paused. “Not that I think anyone here’s mobbed up,” he added quickly. “Just saying—it takes serious resources.”
I handed Anton his phone. “Is your family part of the Mob?”
“I don’t think so, but then they are full of surprises this weekend.” Anton hung his head, ashamed.
It was as if the wedding festivities had been a kind of pressure cooker for the Swanson family, and the situation had just happened to bring out the very worst in them. It was probably a stretch, but it almost felt like someone on the inside was moving between criminal worlds—between the Swansons’ small-town, under-the-radar thieving, and the big boys who were considerably more dangerous.
“Can you text me the images of those notes?” Charlie asked. “And thank you for coming to me with all of this.”
“I didn’t have much choice.” Anton sighed. “Not that I wouldn’t have anyway, but now that I’ve brought all of this mess here, I just want to make sure Lacy—and everyone else—is safe.”
I caught Charlie’s eye. “You can’t move forward with questioning until we know more, right? It could interfere with possibly catching the bigger criminal—whoever is sending these notes, and directing everything behind the scenes.”
“It could also put people in unnecessary danger,” Charlie said,as he checked his watch. “We’ve got another thirty-four hours or so until the ceremony, which isn’t much time for us to investigate, but it will be enough time to contact the FBI and get them out here.”
“No. Please,” Anton said, his eyes plaintive.
“We’re talking about a sophisticated crime ring,” Charlie said. “I can’t just overlook that.”
Anton beat a rapid staccato against his leg and bit his lip as he thought. “Give us that thirty-four hours. Then you can have them swarm the headquarters back in Texas, and I’ll tell the FBI everything I know. They won’t find much evidence at The Rose anyway.”
“Impossible,” Charlie responded, his voice firm. “Someone appears to be planning a shoot-out at your wedding. We need to act now.”
“Just wait,” Anton said, putting out a hand as he began to pace, putting pieces together. “If you move in now, we will be letting a violent member of my very own family slink away into the shadows.”
I caught on to Anton’s logic. He made a good point.
“If we wait until the ceremony,” Anton added, “then we’ll have a controlled environment where we can catch the killer in the act.”
I paused, studying Anton and then Charlie, who was listening carefully. “Anton’s right. If we move in too early, the real murderer will likely escape.”
Charlie considered the idea. “I’m still making a call, but yeah, I can direct them to Swanson instead of here.”
Anton gave a curt nod as his jaw clenched. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to protect himself, his family, or Lacy. Probably all of the above.
“So what do we do here in the meantime?” Lacy asked, clearly horrified by the idea of doing nothing.
“Act normally,” Charlie answered.
“If that’s even possible,” I clarified. After all, we weren’t professionals at catching criminals—and I’d have preferred that neither my friend nor I were a sittingduck.
“We all need to sleep in order to think straight,” Charlie said. “Why don’t you three go back to your rooms, try to rest, and let me consult with the professionals about next steps? I have a feeling that not much else will happen until the actual day of the wedding.”
It was early Saturday morning now. Even if we managed to get in five or six hours of sleep, we’d be waking around noon. Surely by then, Charlie would have some answers. Maybe we would figure out how Will Hurt was involved in this mess. Maybe we would find out who’d been sending notes to the priest—and what exactly this person wanted him to do.
As to that, I really hoped it was only stealing a piece of art, and not murdering in cold blood.
It was a long walk back to our rooms, and when Lacy and I arrived at the door to our guest suite, Charlie entered first, hand on his holster while he scoured the space, ensuring that no one was inside. Once he was certain the room was clear, he planted a kiss on my forehead and gave me a look that said he would do everything possible to make this all go away as soon as possible.
I knew he wouldn’t sleep and that thought was comforting, even as I was concerned for him.
Anton considered staying behind with us, but Charlie reminded him that we needed to operate as normally as possible.
“That’s the safest way to behave right now,” Charlie reminded us.
“As if none of this is happening?” Lacy asked, for clarification.
