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“They found it?”
“At Allegra’s.”
Selma’s brows went up, but she kept her comments about that revelation to herself, merely saying, “We’ll have a look when it gets here . . . Not the reason for our call, however.”
“You have our full attention,” Remi said.
“During our research, we found a Rolls-Royce forum that mentioned an early-model Silver Ghost about to be auctioned somewhere in Italy. The timing of when this rumor appeared fits in with the theft of the Gray Ghost.”
“I’m hoping you’ve narrowed that down a bit,” Sam said. “That’s a lot of country to cover.”
“Unfortunately, no. Like I said, it’s a rumor only, but enough of one that several people are talking about it. We thought it worth investigating. I sent an email to your friend Georgia Bockoven in case she’s heard anything.”
“Good thinking,” Remi said. At one time, Georgia and her husband, John, traveled the globe photographing cars and writing articles for Sports Car Market. They’d long since retired to Italy, buying a villa and small winery in the hills near Chianti, which they turned into a bed and breakfast destination. Even so, they were still involved in the car world. “Have you heard back from her?”
“Just got the email,” Selma said, “which prompted my call. Mind you, according to Georgia, this is a friend of a friend of a friend—in other words, the reliability of the information is questionable.”
“Noted,” Sam said. “What was the info?”
“He, apparently, knows of a dealer in Italy who sells high-end jewelry and art. Usually recognizable names. Fabergé, Rembrandt, Bierstadt. But he’s also brokered the occasional classic car.”
“Fine art on wheels,” Remi said, repeating what Sam had told her in Pebble Beach.
“An apt description,” Lazlo replied.
“The rumor that comes in to play,” Selma continued, “is the dealer’s occasional foray into rare stolen art. Georgia’s working on it from her end, and we’re working on it from ours.”
“We’re sure about this auction?” Sam asked.
“If the rumor’s true, it’s this weekend. One of the many things we don’t know is, exactly which car.”
Sam thought about how long the Ghost was missing. Long enough, perhaps, to make it to some secret auction to be sold?
“Can they really turn over a stolen car that fast?” Remi asked.
“It’s possible,” Sam said.
“It’s also possible,” Selma added, “that whoever stole it did so for that very purpose. To sell it.”
“Quite right,” Lazlo said. “Done all the time in the underworld. Someone with enough money puts in an order, and the broker facilitates the theft. The money paid is astronomical, and the piece sold is usually never seen again.”
“The point being,” Selma continued, “that the timing of this secret auction this weekend, and the rumor of an early-model forty-fifty coming on the market is worth looking into. If you do, Georgia wanted me to let you know that you’re welcome to stay with her at the villa.”
“Thanks for looking into that,” Sam said. “Anything else?”
“Just wondering how your Faux Ghost trade for Chad’s mother worked out?”
“It was one of Remi’s finest ideas. However, let’s just say it wasn’t our finest moment,” Sam replied.
Remi laughed. “We almost needed rescuing from the woman we rescued.”
“One good thing came out of it,” Sam said. “Now that she and her sister are safely off, there’s nothing holding us back from doing a full-out search for the missing Ghost. Dig up what you can on this broker. I think a trip to Italy’s in order. I’d like to take a closer look at him.” He looked over at Oliver and Chad. “We can certainly use your help if you’d like to come with us.”
Oliver’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “You can’t seriously think that someone who’s dealing in stolen goods is going to let you just walk in and demand to see the car, do you?”
“Maybe not. But if someone there knows where the Ghost is, we’re certainly not going to wait for an invitation.”
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