Page 53 of Caper Crush
The Uber lets us off on Mulberry Street by Di Palo’s Fine Foods, and we part. A sense of relief fills me as I walk away. I look back. He waves. He’s watching me. I walk up a block because SoHo Art Materials is over on Wooster, but I’m not planning to go there. Once Edmund disappears inside a restaurant, I walk south down Mulberry. Strings of lights crisscross above the street. Italian music is playing and conversations buzz in the crowded cafés. Italian flags wave above the restaurant signs. A sign saysMade Fresh Daily, Mozzarella * Burrata * Ricotta.
I turn left at Hester Street, passing by signs in Chinese and English announcing a foot spa and take-out restaurant. Even if Edmund has a girlfriend, I doubt he’s over Annabelle. He just bought that Versal. Does Edmund want to help me out to get in my good graces so he can woo Annabelle without my interference? So did she tell him what I said?
I call Annabelle as I stand on the corner of Canal, waiting to cross west. Across from me is the East Bank, a beautiful, large, traditional, Chinese-architecture-styled building with a red, ceramic-tiled roof slanting down to overhanging eves with slightly upturned corners. The Freedom Tower stands tall off to the south. Annabelle picks up.
“Did you ever tell Edmund that I didn’t think you should marry him?”
“And hello to you too,” she says.
“I’m sorry. But Edmund seems to be trying to make a good impression on me.”
“I do wish you and Edmund got along better,” she says. “Even if I did tell him that I wasn’t in love with him and that you also thought we didn’t suit.”
“Great.” So Edmund could be trying to help me to get my support for his suit, or he could be the person who stole the painting and just orchestrated that snitch scenario.Someone who hates me enough to sabotage my career.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I should’ve left you out,” Annabelle says. “But he’s changed recently. I think we might suit after all.”
No. You’re much better than him, Annabelle.That’s what I said last time.
“I can’t believe David cheated on you,” I say. “But for sure, Edmund’s been so in love with you for so many years, he’s not going to cheat.”
“That’s one consolation,” she says wryly.
“What were the subjects of the photos he gave you?” I ask.
“Photos of us as kids. One in front of the tree house we all played in.”
My dad had built that for me. It was the coolest tree house ever.
“Were there any secret pockets?” I ask. Edmund and she passed notes as kids via a secret pocket in the back of my painting. “Did you look behind them?”
“Nothing. The police inspected them when they were here interviewing me,” she says. “I’ve got to get back to work. You should let Edmund help you find your painting. He wants to help.”
I’d rather stick with William. I call Officer Johnson and tell him about the meeting. He agrees with me that it sounds like it was a setup to get money out of me—and maybe scare me.
“It doesn’t seem professional,” Officer Johnson says.
I breathe easier. It was worth going, just for that intelligence. Because either Edmund set that up, or he was used by Vinnie to set that up. But it shows that the thief is not content with just stealing the paintings and lying low. So, eventually, the thief will make a revealing mistake.
And now to call William, who will not be impressed that I met the nefarious connection against his advice. As I walk west along Canal Street, past the McDonald’s with the signs in Chinese and English, the smell of fresh-ground coffee beans from a café permeates the air. Vendors hawk their wares in front of stores stuffed with suitcases, NYC souvenirs, sunglasses, T-shirts, bags, and hats.
“Hey,” William says. “You didn’t pick up earlier.”
“I went to meet Edmund’s contact.”
“Shit. Are you crazy?”
“It was fine.” No need to tell him the details. I sniff myself to see if I still detect the scents of sweat and fear. Maybe a little.
“It’s not fine to meet people who identify themselves as criminals,” he says, sputtering.
“I’m not sure he was for real.”
“What do you mean you don’t think he was for real?”
“Where are you? Do you want to meet up?”
“I’m at home.”
