Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,2

thirty seconds. Looked like his past wasn’t as misspent as he’d thought.

Only once he was inside the car did he scan his surroundings. He picked up the tube in the front seat, unscrewed the top, and pulled out the soft canvas material to confirm it was what he was after. The fabric spoke of the age as did the faded coloring. Eli didn’t need his tools to know this was the original. The bright, sea green paint and delicate dancers told him it was. Carefully, he laid the painting back in the tube and screwed the top on. He didn’t bother to lock the Ferrari behind himself as he jogged back across the street to his BMW M3.

Eli tossed the canister into the front seat as he pulled out his phone and called the office. “Trevor, I’ve got the Degas.”

Trevor Winchell’s surprised voice and litany of questions bored him. If he were lucky, he’d have time to call into his other job and check on the case he was working there.

“You’re sure it’s the Degas?”

“Positive. I trailed him to two fences, and like I suspected, it’s the daughter’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Excellent work, Eli. Please bring it back to the office as soon as possible. I don’t want to risk anything else happening to that painting. The owners will be thrilled to have it back. And the higher ups will be even more thrilled to not pay the insurance. Oh, and Del Monaco has been calling the office looking for you.”

As an art authenticator for Banes Insurance, re-acquisition wasn’t usually in Eli’s job description. But in this case, he’d known the piece well since he’d done the original authentication. Not to mention, he’d known the fences who’d be looking to unload a piece like it, so he’d volunteered for the duty. And the daughter’s ex-boyfriend had practically shouted, “I stole the painting, I stole it,” when she’d been questioned.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll call him back.” As he hung up with Trevor, Eli spotted the shadow lurking on the edges of his peripheral vision, and he instantly palmed the knife at his ankle, his senses on alert. He didn’t need this kind of trouble.

“No need to call me back.” Eli’s passenger door opened, and Vincent Del Monaco climbed in.

Eli released his hold on the weapon. “Jesus, Vince. You know that could have ended badly for you.”

Vince shrugged. “Not likely. What’s that about bringing a knife to a gun fight?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “How the hell did you even find me?”

“I‘m an FBI agent. I have excellent investigational skills.” Vince grinned and added, “Trevor gave me your GPS coordinates.”

“Big Brother at its best. So what’s so important that you called me at the office and now you’re stalking me?”

He handed Eli a file. “You think it's our guy?”

Eli grabbed the folder and studied the images of what looked like a very expensive Picasso. Normally, Eli didn't spend his time speculating on something as important as art. But in this case, he shared the sentiment with his partner. “Yeah, I think it’s him, Vince. But he's smart. Based on the way he’s been getting in and out of these homes, I don’t think it’s just some forger testing his skill and getting some jollies. This is a professional team. This asshole's good.” There were photos of several jewelry pieces, too. One item in particular, a gold bracelet that looked like a sting of diamonds had been woven into it, caught his attention. “These are related I assume?”

“Yeah. These pieces were also copied and replaced. I’ve got my precious gems and metals guys on it. But we haven’t had a lead on the jewelry pieces in years. It’s like our guys figured precious stones were too risky.”

Eli rarely missing anything. It was important for him to focus on the details, and he loathed feeling like he was missing the bigger picture. His thoroughness was the reason Vince came knocking on his door six months ago looking for help on this case. Over the years, he’d garnered a reputation for being the best and being meticulous. And given his past, forgers were sort of his specialty.

Vince nodded absently. “I know that look.”

Eli frowned. “What look?”

“The one that tells me you’re about to be obsessive on this case and start taking it personally that we’re not already far enough along. We’re here because of you.”

Eli gave a harsh chuckle. “You mean nowhere?”

“Well, those art school wannabes I was dealing with before at the bureau couldn't tell that half these paintings