“That makes no sense. Was he even robbed?”
“According to…” J.J. looked at his notes. “Detective Wallace, yes. De Haan’s wallet and passport are missing.” J.J. glanced again at the clock. He said wearily, “Look, West, I know you think there’s something hinky going on, but it’s not our case.”
“It’s part of our case. I guarantee it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not even sure our case is still our case. We’ve been trying for three days to find someone, anyone, who can verify Roy Thompson ever had more than that altar piece and those two paintings in his possession. Even if you’re right, even if de Haan was right, how do we move forward without proof?”
“I’m telling you, they killed him. And I want to know why.”
“They again. You mean the Thompsons? All of them?”
“The Thompsons and Sandford.”
“Okay, wait. Now it’s the Thompsons and Sandford?” J.J. shook his head. “No offense, but you’re starting to sound a little…”
He didn’t bother to fill in the blank.
Jason said, “Just…look at it objectively for a moment. I mean, come on. De Haan is randomly killed by some stranger who conveniently returns his body to his motel room? Who the hell does that?”
“Okay, fine, but why the hell would the Thompsons and Sandford do that? It doesn’t make any sense from that perspective either.” J.J. added, “And people—even private investigators from other countries—do get randomly killed. It doesn’t always make sense.”
Jason snapped, “It’s too much of a coincidence!”
J.J. shot back, “We’re not cops!”
They glared at each other. Jason raked a hand through his hair, sighed. “I know. I realize that. But you know as well as I do that this stinks to high heaven.”
“Okay,” J.J. said. “Maybe I agree that this whole thing looks fishy as shit. You’re the one who said there was no motive for the Thompsons to get rid of de Haan. Even if they do have the rest of the treasure, it would be a lot easier just to make a deal with the various entities than commit murder and then still not be able to move those items for God knows how long. Maybe forever. It’s not like a Vermeer can just pop up and no one is going to notice. And if even one of those items shows up, it’s tantamount to confessing they’ve got everything. In fact, according to your latest theory, it would be tantamount to confessing to murder. Why would they do that? It makes no sense.”
“I know it makes no sense, but that’s what happened. I know it is.”
J.J. was shaking his head. “And why would Sandford go along with this?”
“He’s a friend of the family.”
“I’ll say. If he’s willing to help them commit murder.”
“From the minute we arrived, Sandford wanted to go to war. Why?”
“He doesn’t like feebs. Are you pretending you’ve never bumped into a cop with an attitude before?”
“I think it’s more than that. Why did Bert Thompson call Sandford when we showed up at his ranch?”
“You just said it. He’s a friend of the family.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Sandford arrived before anyone else, including the Park County Sheriffs. It took us nearly an hour to drive out to the ranch. How did he get there so fast? I think Thompson called him before the shooting. I think he was already on his way.”
J.J. opened his mouth, closed it.
“Something else,” Jason said. “When I first contacted Sandford’s office to let them know we’d be interviewing people locally, he refused to take my calls or answer my emails.”
“We’re going in circles. He doesn’t like feebs. He’s not alone in that. It doesn’t prove anything.”
“Not on its own, but when you put it all together—”
J.J. groaned. “When you put it all together, it sounds like the conspiracy theory of a guy who hasn’t had much sleep in the last month. That’s what it sounds like to me.” He closed his laptop and got to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got dinner plans tonight. If you want to tackle this again tomorrow when we’re both fresh, okay. Apparently, we’re not ever going home, so yeah, let’s hash it tomorrow when we’ve both—hopefully—had some sleep.”
“I got plenty of sleep last night,” Jason said shortly.