“I think you’re crazy,” Max said, shaking his head, his tone righteous, gesturing his amazement. “I have no idea what you’re planning, but I can already hear the lawyers asking for the charges to be dismissed- entrapment.”
“I checked with Murphy. We’re clear.”
“Murphy? The ADA?” Max asked.
“Yes.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Max explained, “The assistant district attorney.”
“So, with no worry about complaints of entrapment, may I explain?”
Max sat back, his arms crossed across his chest. “All right,” he said, “but it’s extremely unlikely we’ll agree.”
“Understood. All I want is to catch the person I think is guilty of murder committing a lesser crime. Once arrested on a felony charge, I got ya. I can process you, fingerprint you, and interrogate you.” He opened his hands, palms up. “It’s simple. That’s what I want.”
Max looked at me. I thought for a moment of the courage it would take to do what I was being asked. I’d need to exude confidence and calm. I couldn’t start crying if I became frightened. I swallowed, knowing that I was still vulnerable to bouts of unexpected emotionalism. Yet, despite having seen me at weak moments, Alverez felt I could be trusted with this responsibility. His faith in me gave me faith in myself. If I could help Alverez, it would represent a quantum leap on my road to rebirth. And success breeds success. Plus, I could hear my mother. When in doubt, Josie, she always said,
“I’ll do it,” I said. I realized I was still gripping the chair as if it were my only support, and encouraged myself with my father’s oft-repeated words: Fake it ’til you make it. I hoped that if I didn’t admit to feeling fearful, the emotion would disappear, and I’d be strong and brave and resilient. I swallowed and smiled, adding, “I’m glad to help.”
“Wait,” Max interjected. “I’m going to draft a letter for you to sign indicating you asked for Josie’s help and are appreciative of it. Just in case.”
“I’ll bring in Cathy now and you can dictate it,” Alverez said. “That way it will be on official letterhead.” He turned to me. “It’ll be easy to write, because it’s one hundred percent true.”
I smiled and, embarrassed, whispered, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We spent so long going over the plan that I was almost late for my 2:00 appointment with the couple who were downsizing to a condo on the pond. Mostly Max sat still, observant, but without comment.
Alverez sent out for sandwiches around noon, and we kept working as we ate, detailing whom he suspected, what I needed to do and say, and how we’d arrange the logistics, including such important factors as telling Fred and Sasha they couldn’t work late in the office tonight after all.
Keeping the warehouse empty would allow Alverez’s team to set up the hidden microphones and cameras, determine where we should position the locked cabinet that the police department would provide to store the Matisse, and with any luck, execute the sting. It felt oddly natural to plan the lies I’d tell, and I felt increasingly confident that I would be able to do exactly as Alverez wanted. I began to think that I’d missed my calling. Maybe, I thought, I should have been a con woman.
At about 1:15, Alverez finished up by saying, “That’s it. If you can get those points in, we’ll do the rest.”
“I can do it,” I told him.
He walked us to the parking lot and thanked me again. “Are you okay with everything?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, with more self-assurance than I felt. “But it’ll be good when it’s over.”
By keeping my apprehension to myself, and acting as if I had no doubts that I’d succeed, both Max and Alverez seemed to gain additional buoyancy themselves. As I drove away, alone and free to release the pent-up anxiety I’d kept in check all morning, I acknowledged that their sublime confidence ratcheted up the burden on me to perform. I didn’t want to let them down. I gave myself a pep talk as I drove, and mostly I believed it.
Walking into the big Colonial in Durham, I wondered what it would feel like to be leaving a home like this. Was this couple feeling sad? Or liberated? The house was a suburban American dream-freshly painted, beautifully landscaped-and it exuded serenity and contentment.
Taking a deep breath, I readied myself to work. I wanted to be with Max and Alverez preparing for my role, not surveying goods for sale. Still, since I couldn’t be with them, I was glad for the need to focus on something besides the challenge that awaited me.
It took me an hour to list the items the owners intended to sell. It was complicated because their selections weren’t uniform. They wanted to get rid of the sofa, for instance, but not the matching club chairs, all of the chests of drawers, but none of the beds, and certain knickknacks, but not most of them.
The only valuable items they were offering for sale were a collection of hand-carved wooden decoys, a nineteenth-century dollhouse, and a small Navaho rug. I offered $1,200 for the lot, and was accepted on the spot, making me wonder if I’d bid too high.
I had them initial each of the inventory pages I’d written out, and sign at the bottom that we could pick up these items first thing in the morning.
On the way back to the warehouse, I called Gretchen, and asked, “Anything going on?”
“Just a lot of stuff. Two more callbacks about selling household goods, and an inquiry about auctioning some stamps.”
“Wow, that’s great.”
“Should I come in tomorrow? We’re awfully busy.”
“No. Thanks, but I want you to take your day. We’ll be fine without you for a few hours.”
“Okay, but I can come in if you need me. Trust me, I prefer work to laundry and dusting, which is all I’d planned to do tomorrow.”
I laughed. “You’re a gem,” I told her, meaning it. “Are Sasha and Fred there?”
“No, they’re at the Grant house.”
“Call Sasha for me, okay, and tell them they can’t work late tonight after all. Tomorrow’s fine, but something came up for tonight.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I said, evading her question. “Is Eric there?”
“Yes, do you want him?”
“You can tell him for me. I need him to get a twelve-footer and a helper and get over to the Durham place by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Whew!” she exclaimed. “That’s great! I’ll get cracking setting it up.”
“I’ll give him instructions when I get there today. Tell him that he should stop by the office en route in the morning to pick up the cash.”
“Okay,” she said.
Getting a truck and helper arranged so quickly wasn’t as big an accomplishment as it sounded, since we were regular customers of a truck-rental firm less than a mile away, and they were always glad to subcontract one of their employees to us when Eric needed help with the heavy lifting.
Arriving back at the warehouse, Eric showed me where he’d stacked the boxes of books he’d picked up that morning from the professor, and I warned him to be certain and count the ducks when he packed up everything in Durham the next day. It wasn’t unheard-of for a seller to show off a collection and then hold one or two favorite pieces back. Writing out the details in advance, and getting them to sign off on it, prevented a lot of headaches. But only if the person charged with the pickup actually confirmed the count.
Explaining that something had come up, without providing details, I shooed everyone out at 5:00. Alverez arrived, technicians and other police officers in tow, on schedule at 5:15, and Max drove up at 6:00, looking
