Free Absolutely, Positively by Heather Webber Page B

know that.”
    I smiled. “Not this again.”
    She laughed but didn’t budge from the window. “By the way, Sean and Aiden are in your office.”
    Aiden must have learned something juicy if he came in person. I tapped my leg for Thoreau to follow me. “Is Dad in?” I asked Suz. I wanted his take on the Meaghan situation.
    “Nope. Took the afternoon off. I think he had plans with Judie.” She made smoochy noises and winked at me.
    “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Laughing, she lifted the binoculars and continued her watch.
    Sean and Aiden were both leaning on the conference table when I walked in. Thoreau pranced over for love and attention.
    Aiden said to me, “Well, if it isn’t the FBI’s newest best friend. I got a call from Special Agent Thomas himself. He’d very much appreciate it if you would keep your, and I quote, ‘cute little nose’ out of his case.”
    “The nerve!” I said.
    “It is pretty cute,” Sean agreed.
    “Gag, gag,” Aiden said, dropping into a chair.
    I opened Thoreau’s wrap, pulled out chunks of turkey that he ate from my fingers. The Dog Whisperer would have a fit.
    Detective Lieutenant Aiden Holliday of the Massachusetts State Police had come into my life when a little boy had disappeared in Hingham’s Wompatuck State Park. Because of the outcome of that case Aiden, acting as a liaison for the state police, had offered me a position as a special consultant. Using my psychic abilities, I helped with missing-person cases, cold and new.
    Some with happy endings.
    Most without.
    Over the course of the last few months Aiden had become more than my link to the state police—he’d become a friend.
    “You could be just as gag worthy if you’d ever ask Em on a date,” I prodded.
    “How’d this get turned around on me?” he asked Sean.
    “I think it was the gag comment.”
    Aiden looked between the two of us. “As I was saying, the good Agent Thomas phoned. Told me all about your visit to Maureen Rourke’s house.”
    Thoreau bounced up and down on all fours, waiting for his next bite of lunch. I didn’t mention the change of subject, but I wasn’t giving up on getting Em and Aiden together sooner rather than later. Apparently Cupid needed a little nudging. “Does he have the power to keep us from investigating?”
    Aiden popped a Tic Tac in his mouth. “Not formally.”
    “But,” Sean said, “he can make our lives fairly miserable if we don’t comply.”
    Aiden swiped a hand through his hair, a high and tight blond crew cut. He wore a pair of navy blue pants, a white button-down with a dark blue tie, and a corduroy blazer. His police credentials were clipped to his waist. “You two have apparently stepped on some big toes.”
    “Why? Who is Tristan Rourke? What’s he done?”
    “Something’s going on with Tristan?” Preston stood in the doorway. By the hangdog look on her face I had the feeling the Lone Ranger hadn’t made an appearance.
    Sean waved her in. Since she was writing Meaghan’s story, Preston had every right to hear the news.
    Aiden said, “Tristan Rourke is the suspected mastermind of the biggest art theft ring in the United States. Private homes, museums—doesn’t matter. The Heinz theft—Tristan Rourke. The Mayhew? Tristan Rourke.”
    Preston’s eyes had widened as big as saucers as she sat down. “The Mayhew?” she whispered.
    The Mayhew was a small, privately owned museum here in Boston, with some of the greatest masterpieces in the world under its roof. Three years ago it had been robbed, millions of dollars’ worth of paintings stolen. There had been no clues, no leads, no arrests. It was the biggest heist in U.S. history.
    “How do they know Tristan is the mastermind?” Sean asked.
    “And why haven’t they arrested him?” Preston added.
    “I’m just the messenger,” Aiden said. “I don’t know anything about the case at all.”
    “But you can find out?” I asked hopefully.
    “I can poke around.”
    I glanced at Sean.