Grace Among Thieves by Julie Hyzy Read Free Book Online

security scrambled to prevent a major disaster, the thieves made their move. Two people were injured, including one of our security guards. He’s hospitalized with a gunshot wound.”
    “Is he okay?”
    “Doctors say he will be. But he couldn’t identify the gunman. He said it happened too fast.”
    “That’s terrible, Nadia,” I said.
    “Initially, the police wanted to interrogate the kids, thinking they were behind the theft. Poor people are always the easiest targets, aren’t they? Thankfully, before that public relations nightmare got started, we realized that this had been a strategic strike.”
    “How so?”
    “The three stolen pieces were all from the same dynas—oh, I’m getting too specific. Let’s just say they were all from the same region, the same century. We had acquired them from different sources at different times and we’d received the final piece in the collection the week before. Although they were housed in the same general area, they were not grouped together. In fact, whoever stole these passed up several other valuable pieces nearby. The thieves knew what they wanted. Probably for a collector who isn’t picky about provenance.”
    I’d heard of fencing operations like these. They usually targeted museums, though they tended to do so infrequently, both because security measures were improving by the minute, and because one successful haul provided plenty to live on while strategizing the next hit. I sat back, stunned, “I’m so sorry to hear this. Do you have any leads?”
    “Not much. And what little we have I can’t share. What I am allowed to tell you is that the authorities believe the thieves took advantage of the fund-raiser to cover for their big heist. In a situation like that there’s always some confusion, a few mishaps, and hundreds of unfamiliar faces. We think they blended in, grabbed what they wanted, and were out before we knew anything was missing.”
    “Wow,” I said, because there wasn’t much else to say. “What prompted you to call me about this?”
    “I remember you telling me about the company you hired to film a DVD of Marshfield. We hired a crew to tape the fund-raiser.”
    I got a sudden sick twist in my gut. “Who did you use?”
    “I’m not allowed to say. Legal mumbo-jumbo. But if you tell me who you’re using . . .”
    I gripped the receiver tighter to my ear and gave her the name of Corbin Shaw’s group.
    She gave a sigh of relief. “Not the same company. You may be safe.”
    I felt a tiny wash of relief.
    “Understand, honey,” she went on, “there’s no positive proof the film crew has done anything wrong. But I remembered what you’d told me and I thought it worth a phone call. They were here during the fund-raiser. For all we know, the thieves simply waited for our guard to be down before they pounced. If so, you may want to keep your eyes open, and talk to your security chief about tightening things up. Just until the film crew is gone. And then—”
    “We are missing items,” I admitted. “A few. Nothing major.”
    “When?”
    “Since the film crew has been here.”
    “What’s missing?”
    I named the items, thinking that if Nadia hadn’t gotten in touch, we might have been poised to lose even more. “We’ve kept close tabs on the crew,” I said, even more glad that I’d agreed to come in early the next morning to oversee the project. “We’ve limited filming to hours when the mansion is closed to visitors.”
    “Be careful. Like I said, we had a couple of people injured. These thieves are ruthless. With all that’s gone on with Marshfield lately, I was worried you may have enough chaos in your midst to attract the thieves’ attention.”
    The last thing Marshfield Manor needed right now was another tragedy. Despite the fact that the two murders here in recent months were helping attendance rather than hindering it, our goal was to draw seekers of beauty and lovers of history rather than morbid gawkers who