The plan for Marcus was forming. Annie would forward the photos to her jeweler and have him replicate the contents of the safe. But it would have to be quick. She needed the replicas in less than twenty-four hours if she was going to replace the originals during the cocktail party.

Lots of chatter came from the sisters as they refined the overall plan.

When it came to Corbett, Annie would ask Victor who was the best and fastest artist who could make a copy of the Chagall. Charles and Fergus would find the exact location where the artwork was being held and would reach out to their US Customs connection.

As for Steinwood, Kathryn would get in touch with some of her road travelers, particularly the less than honest types who hauled stolen cars to send overseas.

Jay had reported that there was no secret government installation on the property in Michigan owned by Live-Life-Long. Avery’s people were tailing the people who had shot down the drone in Michigan. Charles had been able to run facial recognition software on the partial photos of the men taken before the drone was blown out of the sky. Both were ex-convicts who were trying to live off the grid when they weren’t reporting to their parole officers. All indications were that it was as they had suspected. A pill mill.

Jay would wait for a signal from Charles before the FBI took any action.

Kathryn told the group that Pearl was on call, but Marcus would require a different disposal plan.

Annie suggested that this might not be necessary. Franny O’Rourke might become their accomplice, whether he knew it or not. A roar of laughter came from both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. The sisters had a very good idea what could happen to a man who tried to screw his drug dealer.

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The Plimsoll Building

The conservatory was buzzing with florists, maintenance people, bartenders, waitstaff, and caterers. A small jazz trio was setting up in the corner, and a local carpenter was carrying a small doghouse into the room. It was three feet high and five feet deep, with a sign painted over the door: A FOREVER HOME. There was a slot at the peak of the roof for people to make their donations. The little door was locked, just in case anyone would dare put their hand in to swipe any of the donations.

Annie was pacing, waiting for the person who would deliver the replica jewelry she was planning to swap for the real goods. An elegantly dressed man who appeared to be in his late sixties approached her.

“Lincoln! Good to see you. Aren’t you looking like the dog’s dinner!” She meant that in more ways than one. She chuckled. “Dog’s dinner” was a compliment about how one was dressed, and the evening was for the dogs.