Let Me Call You Sweetheart

74

Si Morgan, senior FBI agent in charge of investigating the Hamilton theft, was in his office at Quantico on Saturday afternoon, going over computer printouts concerning that case and the others believed to be related.

They had asked the Hamiltons, along with burglary victims in similar cases, to furnish names of all guests who attended any gathering or party at their homes during the several months before they were victimized. The computer had created a master file and then a separate list of the names that appeared frequently.

The trouble, Si thought, is that so many of these people travel in the same circles that it’s not uncommon to see certain people included regularly, especially at the big functions.

Nevertheless there were about a dozen names that turned up consistently. Si studied that alphabetized list.

The first one was Arnott, Jason.

Nothing there, Si thought. Arnott had been quietly investigated a couple of years ago and passed as clean. He had a healthy stock portfolio, and his personal accounts didn’t show the sudden infusions of cash associated with burglary. His interest income was also consistent with his lifestyle. His income tax statement accurately reflected his stock market transactions. He was well respected as an art and antiques expert. He entertained frequently and was well liked.

If there was a red flag in his profile, it was that Arnott was perhaps a little too perfect. That and the fact that his in-depth knowledge of antiques and fine art was consistent with the selective first-rate-only approach the thief took to the victims’ possessions. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to run a check on him again if nothing else shows up, Si thought. But he was much more interested in another name on the frequent list, Sheldon Landi, a man who had his own public relations firm.

Landi certainly seems to rub shoulders with the beautiful people, Si mused. He doesn’t make much money, yet he lives high. Landi also fit the general profile of the man the computer told them to look for: middle-aged; unmarried; college educated; self-employed.

They had sent out six hundred flyers with the security-camera photo to the names culled from the guest lists. So far they had received thirty tips. One of them came from a woman who had phoned to say she thought the culprit might be her ex-husband. “He robbed me blind the whole time we were married and lied his way into a big settlement when we were divorced, and he has that kind of pointy chin I see in the picture,” she’d explained eagerly. “I’d check on him if I were you.”

Now, as he leaned back in his desk chair, Si thought about that call and smiled. The ex-husband the woman was talking about was a United States senator.