“So Martin would see these pieces and bid on them?” Amanda wasn’t sure if Mona was being entirely forthright, but to assume otherwise would imply she may have some items in her home that had been stolen.
“He did. But only if they came with provenance.”
“And that is?” Amanda’s world couldn’t be further from the one in which Mona existed.
“It ensures that the piece is legitimate, including a chronological record of ownership. Without that, the piece of art could be a forgery or stolen.”
“Do most people like Martin care about that sort of thing?” This from Trent.
“Those of us who have morals, but I don’t need to tell you, Detective, that not everyone is upstanding.”
Amanda didn’t care for how condescending this woman was being, but from the brief interactions with Ingrid, Mona might have been that way with everyone. “If pieces like your late husband’s Fabergé egg, for example, were stolen to be resold, how would the thieves even go about finding a buyer?”
“You’re asking me questions that you best ask a criminal.” Mona flashed the tiniest of amused smiles.
“Fair enough.” Amanda then had the thought that items were stolen to order: a collector desires something and takes out something similar to a classified ad. Only this would be posted, answered, and transacted on the dark web. “We have recently recovered the gun that was used to kill your husband.”
Mona gasped and laid a hand over her heart. “Any prints or… something to get you closer to who did this?”
“You can be assured the gun is being examined thoroughly,” Trent said, then turned to scribbling something in his notepad.
“May I ask where you found the gun?”
Amanda supposed that was an innocent enough question and one a widow would be curious about. Not that it was a straightforward answer. Amanda pulled up a photograph of Claire on her phone that she had taken from her old Facebook account and walked it over to Mona. “Does this woman look familiar to you? She could have had a different hair color or style when you saw her… even different colored eyes?”
Mona studied Amanda’s face, barely glanced at the phone. She snapped her fingers and yelled out, “Ingrid, glasses.”
The woman needed a bell…
Ingrid came rushing into the room and handed Mona her glasses. She hooked them on her ears and had them resting on her nose in a flash.
“Let’s see what we have…” Mona studied the photograph. A few moments later, she added, “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this girl. What about you, Ingrid?” Mona gestured for Amanda to show Ingrid, who remained on standby. “She’s worked with us for years. Back before Martin was killed.”
Ingrid looked at the picture, then shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen her.”
Amanda pocketed her phone and thanked both women.
“Who is she?” Mona asked while handing Ingrid the glasses and waving a dismissive hand.
“Her name is Claire Ramsey.” Amanda went with her maiden name given that at the time of the heist Claire wasn’t married to Logan. Mona took another draw of her tea. Her brow creased. “I’ve never heard of her, and I’m failing to see how she ties in with Martin’s murder.”
“We found the gun in her possession,” Amanda said, matter-of-fact.
Mona’s eyes widened. “That sounds pretty damning to me, Detective. Tell me you’ve arrested this woman.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. She was murdered last Friday night.”
Mona sat back and rested her arms on those of the chair. “My, my.”
Amanda hadn’t entered this household suspecting anything nefarious of the Lawson widow, but she realized she couldn’t just dismiss the woman from suspicion either. Mona was responding to things the way one would expect. Were these reactions genuine or staged? She had money and if Mona believed Claire killed her husband, maybe she got revenge herself or hired a contract killer. “Where were you last Friday evening, Mrs.Lawson?”
“Excuse me?”
Amanda refused to play this woman’s puppet and repeat something that she’d heard perfectly.
“I was here. You can ask Ingrid.”
Amanda prepared her ears for another bellow, but one didn’t come. “We will.”
