Amish Undercover Read online

  “I took a picture of it.”

  Bailey raised his eyebrows. “Good girl. Now, I’d better get you home.”

  “Then Mr. Starks got a phone call from someone called, um…Buzz. Mr. Starks is meeting with some people tomorrow night and it sounded like Buzz and Mr. Starks were trying to get someone to pay more for something.”

  “Thanks, Emma. I know, we’ve got it all on tape and Crowley’s men are tailing him wherever he goes.”

  Bailey drove Emma home. As they pulled up in the car, Emma was pleased to see Wil’s large frame forming a silhouette in the doorway with the gaslights burning brightly behind him.

  Wil strode to the car and ducked his head in to speak to Bailey. “Denke for bringing Emma home, Bailey.”

  As Bailey drove back up the driveway, Wil put a strong arm around Emma’s shoulders and walked her inside. “Are you alright, Emma? You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I know I don’t and I’m alright. I’m helping Bailey and Silvie.”

  Wil stared at Emma.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “You have to think of yourself for once, Emma. I don’t want to stop you doing things, but I need you to be safe. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

  Emma’s heart melted at his words. She wanted to be safe for him, so he would never feel the pain of loss that she felt. “These people are suspected thieves, not murderers. Bailey would never let me do this if he thought for a moment that my life would be in danger.”

  “Well, come on. Get into your normal clothes unless you want to give the haus a quick clean first.”

  Emma laughed as she looked down at her black and white maid’s uniform.

  “I don’t know what we’d say to the bishop if he turned up here right now,” Wil said shaking his head.

  Emma could hear the hint of disapproval in Wil’s voice. He was an understanding and supportive husband, but Emma knew that he hated doing anything that would go against the Ordnung. Even though a great many Amish have outside jobs and even work for Englischers, Emma did not know of one Amish person who would have done what she did that day. “I’ll go and change.”

  “I’ll serve the dinner, don’t be too long. I don’t want it to get cold.”

  Emma came back downstairs in her prayer kapp and her normal Amish dress with her over-apron. Even though the maid’s uniform was extremely conservative and covered nearly every inch of her body, Emma did not feel at ease in anything other than her Amish dress.

  “That looks better,” Wil said as he sat down at the table.

  Emma’s eyes swept over the table. Wil had cooked fried chicken, baked potatoes and coleslaw.

  “Wil, this looks wunderbaar.”

  Wil smiled as his eyes rested on hers.

  After they said their silent prayer of thanks for the food, Emma ate a mouthful of chicken. “Mmm, it tastes great.”

  * * *

  As usual, Emma began work at nine a.m. at Mr. Starks’ mansion. She placed the listening devices in rooms in which she thought Mr. Starks might talk to the men who were coming to the house that day. The devices were small, round and fitted with one sticky side so they would easily stay under a table or behind a piece of furniture. Emma had to act quickly so the butler would not be suspicious as she quickly moved from room to room.

  Emma was right about the house being too big for just one maid to clean. She had since found out that a team of cleaners came in once every three weeks to give the house a proper going over. Emma was the day-maid whose job was to keep the house tidy and functioning properly. Mr. Brighton, the butler, had given her a written job description of all her tasks. He inspected everything she did and so far she knew that Mr. Brighton was pleased with her work since she still had her job.

  When Emma passed through the kitchen on her way to put the cleaning equipment back, she saw Mr. Brighton. “Is Mr. Starks in today?”

  “He’s in his study. Then he’ll be going out later, right now he’s expecting some clients for a meeting.”

  “What study is that? I haven’t seen him all morning.”

  Mr. Brighton looked intently at Emma and Emma hoped that she had not gone too far with her questions. “He’s got various rooms throughout the building that you would not have seen and neither do they concern you.”

  “That’s good. Less to clean.” Emma giggled and carried on with her work and hoped that her mindless giggles had thrown off Mr. Brighton’s suspicions, if he happened to have had any.

  “Oh, Mr. Brighton, I found this key yesterday. It was on the floor and I put it in my pocket and forgot about it.” Emma thought she might not see Mr. Starks for a while so it would be better to give it to Mr. Brighton.

  Mr. Brighton rushed toward Emma and grabbed the key out of her outstretched hand. “Where did you come by this?”

  “Like I said, it was on the floor.”

  “Mr. Starks and I have been looking for this everywhere. When did you find it on the floor?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Mr. Brighton’s eyes pierced through her before his eyes dropped to the key in the palm of his hand. “Very well. Next time, tell me straight away when you find something.”

  “Yes, Mr. Brighton.”

  Chapter 11.

  For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged:

  and with what measure ye mete,

  it shall be measured to you again.

  Matthew 7:2

  “Pretty good,” Bailey said when he looked at the finished painting weeks later.

  “What do you mean, pretty good? It’ll have to be better than that if you want to fool anyone.”

  Bailey slapped Marvin on the back. “Good job. It’ll pass, I hope for both our sakes.”

  “What do you mean? I’ve co-operated. I’m free now aren’t I?”

  Bailey looked at Marvin’s paint covered clothes and then looked up at a large streak of blue across his cheek. “You’ve got a large streak of paint across your face. No, you’re not free to go just yet. Not ‘til all this is over.”

  Marvin picked up a rag and rubbed his face with a corner of it that was not filled with paint. “I have to stay here?”

  Bailey nodded. “I told you that in the beginning. You’re in my custody until all this is done.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Bailey sat down at the table in the corner of the room. “We’re on the home stretch – a month on the outside.”

  Marvin proceeded to scratch some paint off his hands. “Well, I’m going to order another pizza.”

  “Maureen’s cooking not good enough?”

  “Maureen’s cooking is great, but I love pizza.” Marvin patted his stomach, which had sizably increased in a short amount of time.

  “Peters will order it for you. Remember, you’re allowed no contact with anyone whatsoever for any reason or our arrangement will be over. Got it?”

  Marvin nodded. “Okay, got it. I haven’t contacted anyone at all, so get me a television or something. There’s nothin’ to do here?”

  Bailey saw one of Wil’s old Bibles on the table next to him. “Here read this.” He threw it to Marvin.

  Marvin caught the Bible and placed it on the table. “Very funny. I don’t like reading anyway.”

  Bailey snorted. “Now run through with me again, to refresh my mind, what sort of tests they normally do on paintings.”

  Marvin frowned at Bailey. “You said you were going to have the paperwork falsified.”

  “I am, I just want to look like I know what I’m talking about when I take the painting in. Talk me through it.” Bailey leaned back.

  “The basic technique has always been black light to detect irregularities and it can also detect if a paintings been painted over. Newly added signatures can fluoresce differently to the rest of a painting, but these days we’re using non-fluorescing paints so things like that won’t be detected. Then a lot of artists use varnish over the top of the finished painting to give it a look of a
ge. They, the testers I’m talking about, can also take a scrape of paint from the edge and analyze it to see if the ingredients in the paint are consistent with that used by the original artist – age, location and preferred paints of the artist in question.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, my painting has to dry.”

  Bailey’s eyes fell on the painting. “That’s one thing I forgot. How long will that take?”

  “Three weeks to dry completely, maybe more.”

  Bailey looked across to Marvin. “What about touch dry?”

  Marvin grimaced. “Maybe a week. If you keep a fan on it that might speed it up a bit.”

  “I guess I really need is photos of it for the press and the auction house to have the knowledge that it’s being entered into the auction.”

  Marvin smirked. “I was right then; it’s bait.”

  “Yes, you were right. Since you won’t be leaving here, I can tell you I’m trying to catch Richard Starks out.”

  Marvin’s eyebrows rose. “Are you?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “Can’t say whether I do, or I don’t,” Marvin said.

  Bailey gave a laugh. “That’s exactly what I expected you to say.”

  “I already told ya. I’m not going to end up with a knife in me back. So, anyways, why did I have to paint Chez Tontoni? You didn’t need me to paint it at all, you could’ve just pretended you had the painting and put it in the auction, you’ve plenty of photos of it.”

  “Then you wouldn’t have got out on jail,” Bailey said with a laugh in his voice. “No, I hear what you’re saying, but it’s better this way. We’ve got someone else with some valuable paintings and he’s putting them all in the auction and this one’s going under his name. Well, were having his name suppressed, which is often the case with private collectors. We need to have some credibility.”

  Marvin laughed.

  “What do you find so amusing?” Bailey asked.

  “We’re in the same line of business you and I. We both fool people into believing something that’s not true.”

  As much as Bailey did not like to hear Marvin’s words, he had been thinking along the very same lines for some time. What he was doing was not far from what Marvin and his criminal organization had done. The difference was that Bailey did it to catch people who were doing the very same thing; he was not doing it to line his pockets. At the end of the day, Bailey had to wonder if deceiving people, even if they were criminals, was the right thing to do in the sight of God.

  “You talk too much, Marvin.” Bailey walked out of the house, carefully carrying the painting by balancing the outer edges against his palms. After he placed the painting in a large box in the trunk of his car, he drove it to the gallery where an expert was waiting to issue false papers of authenticity on the request of the FBI.

  Straight after Bailey had the authenticity papers of the fake Chez Tortoni in his hands, he needed to see Silvie. Silvie always made him feel better.

  Silvie came to her front door. Bailey wrapped his arms around her and they stepped into the house together. “It’s getting close, Silvie. I hope our plan works and if it doesn’t, I’ll be happy that I’ve given it my best shot. It makes me feel part of a team that your friends and my aunties are all helping.”

  “Jah, I can’t wait until you join the community. It’s better than I could have ever hoped for. At first, I didn’t even want to let myself believe it.”

  “I’ve spoken to the bishop and he said that I’ll be welcome when I’m ready. He wants me to stay with a familye for six months before I get baptized. After I get baptized then we can announce our marriage, or our wedding, I should say.”

  “I can’t wait. Do you know which familye you’ll be staying with?”

  Bailey shook his head. “I have no idea, but I can’t stay with Wil and Emma. Wil offered for me to stay with them, but they’re newly weds, so I don’t want to intrude on them when they’re getting to know each other.” Bailey held Silvie’s hand and walked her over to the couch and sat down. “It’ll be strange living with a family when I’ve lived by myself for so long. And what would I do here, in the community, for work?”

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Silvie bit her lip.

  Bailey laughed. “No, I’m not having second thoughts. It’s just that I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even had time to think of what I might do when I’m here in the community. I know I have to leave my career behind me. I just don’t know what else I can do.”

  “I’m sure that there are many things you’d be good at.”

  Bailey looked into Silvie’s beautiful face, pleased that she believed in him. “It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together, then I will be a happy man. It’s not been easy being away from you. Everyday I wake up and I’m conscious that you’re far from me. As I’m driving to work, I think of how much I miss you. As I close my eyes to sleep, I long for the day when I can hold you in my arms.” Bailey looked away from Silvie as he recalled his nightly routine. He would lie on his bed, close his eyes and think of Silvie, and just as he was half way between asleep and awake something sinister would jolt him and he would wake. Silvie’s voice jolted him away from his thoughts.

  “It’s been just as hard for me.”

  “It’s not long now.” Bailey pulled Silvie in toward himself, hoping that she would never be affected by the darkness that affected him.

  Chapter 12.

  And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted,

  forgiving one another,

  even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.

  Ephesians 4:32

  For the past three weeks, as Emma had been working for Mr. Starks, she was certain that he did not suspect her of being anything other than a maid.

  “I’m looking at an email from an auction and they have the Chez Tortoni for sale. Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  She listened as hard as she could, but since he was in the adjacent room, Mr. Starks’ voice was muffled. She knew that Bailey would have the conversation recorded anyway. Starks had taken the bait and it was clear from his reaction that he had something to do with the stolen ‘Chez Tortoni.’ Emma hurried back to clean the silverware as Mr. Brighton, the butler, had ordered.

  Emma did not see Mr. Starks for the rest of the day and at six o’clock she left the house. As always, she had the taxi leave her in town just in case someone was following her. Then she would wait a while, walk a little further uptown and Bailey would come for her in his car and take her home.

  “Well, what happened? Did you hear his conversation? I heard him calling someone but I couldn’t hear what was said.” Emma’s words came out tumbling over one another in her excitement.

  “He’s furious that the painting has surfaced and as we thought, he thinks his might be a fake. He didn’t want to talk over the phone too much, so he’s having them come to his place tomorrow.”

  Emma raised her eyebrows and a twinge of apprehension sent a tremble through her body. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. Just be there and those listening devices that you installed weeks ago are finally going to come in handy.”

  “I wouldn’t know where they might talk. They could even have a secret room or something. I don’t even know where the man who looks after the car stays – I only see him driving the cars away.”

  “Relax, Emma. As a backup, we’ve got software installed on his cell phone so if that’s in-range when they’re talking, I’ll be recording everything they say – he doesn’t have to be speaking on it. His cell phone will act like one of the recording devices.”

  * * *

  It was at eleven o’clock the next day that Emma heard the intercom of the front gate sound. The butler buzzed the car through. Emma heard the buzzer, but being in the next room she could not hear clearly who the people said they were. She heard no names, only a man’s voice and that was all.

  Emma was in one of the formal dining room
s and she watched as the car drove up to the front door. She kept dusting as she saw the men get out of the car. It was not her job to answer the door. Mr. Brighton had mentioned it on more than one occasion that it was the butler’s job to answer the door. Emma daren’t go against what the butler told her.

  Once the two men reached the front door, they were ushered by Mr. Brighton, into the elevator. Where they went from there, Emma had no idea. There could be another floor or another section to the mansion that Emma had never seen. There was no more that she could do except hope that Bailey could somehow hear their conversation. Emma was sure that none of the listening devices she had planted would be anywhere near where the three men would be having a conversation.

  All Emma would be able to tell Bailey was that there were two solidly built men, both with dark hair. Emma snapped a picture of their car with her camera. She walked up the stairs to a room at the end of the corridor where she could take a better picture of the car’s license plate. Once Emma had taken the photo she hurried back down the stairs so Mr. Brighton would never know that she had moved from the dining room where she was supposed to be polishing the antique furniture.

  It was moments after Emma got back into the dining room and resumed her polishing that the butler poked his head around the door. “How are you going in here?”

  “Fine. It’s fun polishing this beautiful furniture.” Emma hoped that’s what a true maid would say.

  “I’ve got a food order arriving shortly. I’ll need you to unpack it. I’ll call you when it arrives.”

  “Okay.” Emma nodded and wondered if it would be more steak, potatoes and beans.

  It was an hour and a half later that Emma heard the two men leave. They appeared to be in a hurry, and as soon as they left, Emma heard the low hum of Mr. Starks’ car. She wondered where he could be going, but she could not ask. She’d already asked too many questions.

  Emma knew that the butler did not trust her. Maybe it was too dangerous for her to come back there tomorrow.

  When finishing time came around, Emma was pleased that she made it out of there alive. She followed her usual routine of having the taxi drop her into town. She walked up the street and phoned Bailey from the public phone to come and pick her up. “Did you hear their conversation?” Emma asked Bailey before she said hello.