THE DREAM GATE
BOOK 1... GRABBING AIR - Chapter 31 & 32
CHAPTER 31
Late Thursday afternoon, preliminary testing showed DNA comparisons of the sperm sample and the spoon saliva were flagged as a match to the same person, Paul Henry Bateman.
Also in a second medical examiner’s report, Paul Bateman was identified as related to the female remains found in the exhumed coffin under Richard Haywood’s headstone.
Detective Peter Finley issued a warrant for the arrest of Paul Henry Bateman on suspicion of murder. Problem was, Paul Henry Bateman had checked out of his hotel immediately after he met Olivia for breakfast - a full day early. Also, all four paintings had been collected by Federal Express earlier that same morning for delivery to each address of the four registered ALIU claimants.
The sun was setting and Peter still hadn’t called Olivia, to update or to make their evening plans. The Satin & Silk business phone number appearing on his call log wouldn’t cause any issue for the case, but he knew Olivia had closed her store forty minutes before. If he called now, it should be to her cell to catch her working at her desk.
Instead, Detective Finley called Greg Jamieson’s cell phone number. “Bateman took off this morning. He wasn’t scheduled to checkout until tomorrow.”
Mr. Jamieson recognized the Detective’s phone number and distinctive baritone. “Really? Why do you think?”
“I listened to the breakfast conversation recording again. Olivia did well but was pretty blunt. I’m worried something she said may have spooked him.”
“I don’t see how. Olivia may have been nervous before her breakfast meeting, but she found her groove soon enough. She certainly reprimanded Bateman for his fling with Phoebe, but she actually got him to admit he had also been with Marsha.”
“And that admission could have been it. The minute Olivia left him, Bateman realized, that he may have compromised his alibi for both the apartment break in and Marsha’s death. After admitting he’d had a physical relationship with Marsha, he told Olivia after he returned to DC he’d be meeting with each of the four claimants. But one of the claimants, that Professor Burns met - who was also Bateman’s alibi - has vanished.”
“I don’t know how, or in what direction because he confirmed his original return airline ticket. He didn’t rent a car, nor buy a ticket on Greyhound or Amtrak under any spelling combination of Bateman with two ‘n’s or two ‘t’s or ‘i’s.”
Mr. Jamieson chuckled, pulling up the notes on his laptop file. “Well, at least not using his own birth name. His mother’s maiden name was Ferris, and his paternal grandmother’s name was Schmied. Schmied translated from German to English is blacksmith.”
Peter shook his head at his end of the call. “I need to put you and Olivia on the Larimer County payroll.” Peter immediately began checking the same travel database he had earlier. There were no bus, rental car or airline reservations for either surname, but there was for an Amtrak passenger train.
“You and your daughter are something else. A passenger named Ferris Schmied reserved a ticket on Amtrak for departure to Omaha, late this morning.” Peter checked his computer clock. “Nebraska’s an hour ahead, but that train should arrive… whoa about ten minutes. I’ll call you back.”
An hour later, Olivia was taking cornbread from the oven, and her father and brothers were dishing up bowls of chili when the front doorbell rang. Out on the front porch was a weary, irate homicide detective. This time Olivia opened her arms to comfort Peter. “Yours is not the face of someone who got-his-man.”
Mr. Jamieson called from the kitchen. “You’re just in time, come join us.” Then he too saw Peter’s expression and cringed.
Olivia’s younger brothers exchanged a look then ate in silence, watching and listening.
“The Omaha police, the Omaha Marshal’s office and FBI searched the entire train – Paul was not on it. After detaining all the train passengers, come to find out a homeless man had been given the ticket bought by a stranger.”
“What stranger, anyone we know?” Greg carried a bowl of salad to the table.
“The homeless man was still pretty drunk. All he could remember was that a tall guy wearing a dark knitted hat and sunglasses gave him a train ticket.”
“Then on a hunch I checked the same database for the surname Koder or Kodermann and got a hit for a Heinrick Kodermann who had booked a ticket departing from the Colorado Springs airport. I alerted Colorado Springs airline security and FBI there. The plane was held out on the tarmac and searched.”
“This time a ticket had been given to someone waiting in the standby section. Even though the standby passenger was sober, the description wasn’t any more detailed – just a tall guy about six feet wearing a dark brown knitted hat and sunglasses.”
“However, this time the standby passenger told police the man who gave away his ticket said that his fiancé had suddenly died and he had to get back to Fort Collins. What the hell is that and why?” Peter shrugged.
None of the others moved. The boys held spoons poised over their bowls. Olivia stopped with a glass of iced tea in each hand. Mr. Jamieson looked down at his salad tongs.
“Here,” Greg Jamieson laid the salad tongs by the salad bowl then retrieved another glass for Peter. “Have a little brandy with your chili.”
Then as if a movie director called ‘action’ the boys continued to eat. Olivia set two more glasses on the table then sat, joined by her father and Peter.
“I issued a national priority alert to every agency for Bateman in half a dozen name combinations and internationally, in another half dozen combination of names.” Peter swirled the golden-brown liquid in the bottom of the small glass then downed it all in two swallows.
“Private air charters?” Offered Olivia
“We’re checking those too.” Peter got a whiff of his bowl of chili and realized he hadn’t eaten all day. He was hungry.
After they had finished eating Olivia and Peter challenged her younger brothers to a round of pool. The diversion helped the detective shake off some of his wrath.
“I thought I might take a drive to Horse Tooth Reservoir.” It was late, but Peter hesitated by the Jamieson front door. “Looking out over the city lights often helps me sleep when I’m working a tough case. And so far this one’s been my worst.”
“If you’d like some company, I’ve always liked that view too.”
Neither of them spoke on the steep winding drive to the crest of the reservoir’s east side. Another four hundred and fifty feet above Fort Collins, the view always reminded Olivia of looking out the window of a plane coming in to land at D.I.A.
“We could stay at the apartment tonight if you like.” Olivia reached over to take Peter’s hand.
Peter nodded. “We could, but I’m still pretty uptight.”
“That’s all right. Perhaps you already noticed I’m a snuggler.”
At the apartment with Olivia’s back against Peter’s chest and their legs bent together, they fell asleep cuddled under Aunt Nora’s goose-down comforter.
………..
She walks toward a darkened arch through a fine, grey- green mist in shallow fluid.
Passing under the shadowed arch she stops and looks back.
She continues up three wide, uneven stone steps, feeling another presence. Light and shadows dance against the darkness, but she sees no one else.
At the top stone she stops and looks back a second time certain there is someone behind her - watching.
From the top stone she steps onto the wood floor of the second floor hallway of Koder Art Gallery. The odor of turpentine and linseed oil is strong.
The door to the corner room is open slightly and she sees the back of a man with dark brown hair at an easel, painting. He appears vaguely familiar as he looks from his canvas to a second canvas on an easel beside him.
When she moves to watch she realizes the artist is copying the painting to his left.
She looks around seeing other paintings on other easels drying. The paint is still damp on four of them. She knows she has seen these four, she knows their names…
Olivia groaned in her sleep. “Oh no...”
She walks through the doorway to the larger space leaving the small studio. In the larger room with the long framing table and rolls of canvas there are more paintings drying on raised easels…
Olivia spoke out loud. “This can’t be…”
Peter stirred in his sleep.
All around her are paintings by dozens of classic art masters, but she knows all of these are copies of the same art hanging in the gallery below…
Then she feels a presence – the same presence she was aware of before… but too late!
Grabbed from behind she is spun around and slammed against shelves of stretched canvas.
Olivia called out in her sleep. “What are you doing here…!”
“Very good, Olivia, very, very good.”
She faces Paul Bateman...
Peter woke up.
“I’m here because of you.” He presses his groin into hers. “You my dear could spoil everything...”
Olivia cried softly in her sleep.
“It took my family three generations to source, supply, build and deliver this network and you’re not going to destroy that...”
Peter pated Olivia’s shoulder to wake her.
“How are you here? How are you here with me now?” She can’t move. She can’t push him away. She can’t feel her arms...
Peter couldn’t wake Olivia.
“You found the GATE – the DREAM GATE...”
Olivia moaned as if in pain…
“This ‘point-in-time’ was all mine before you found it...”
“Olivia you’re having a dream.” Peter tried not to panic. “Wake up!”
“Marsha hadn’t found the GATE, but her damn digging and her damn questions became just as much of a risk...”
Peter couldn’t bring Olivia around.
Paul grinds his body against hers…
“Stop! Stop that, stop!” Olivia sobbed in her sleep. Peter still couldn’t wake her.
Paul’s left hand clutches her throat…
“Let me go! Let me go!” Olivia called out.
His right hand holds her wrists behind her…
Peter rolled Olivia over onto her back. “Olivia, for God’s sake, wake up!” He clapped his hands just above her face.
She can’t move. She can’t feel her body...
“They’ll find you! Peter will find you!” Olivia yelled and tossed her head from side to side.
Smiling Paul moves closer to kiss her…
Frantic, Peter searched for his phone in the dark.
“I wish him luck with that...”
Afraid to leave Olivia - Peter held her close reaching to feel across the top of the night table.
“It’s a shame I can’t take you with me, but before I go - I will ‘take’ you...”
Peter knocked his phone onto the floor. “Shit!”
He moves his hand from her throat to lift up her T-shirt. “So nice of you to make this easy---”
Abruptly Paul Bateman is gone.
Shaking she looks around, but no longer feels Paul’s threatening presence…
Peter turned on the night table lamp, and he squints against the sudden bright light.
Olivia’s eyelids fluttered. She swallowed - gulped air and woke up.
CHAPTER 32
Clinging to Peter as if he was the edge of a cliff, Olivia sobbed with her head against his chest. After several minutes, she was spent. She lifted her head and blew her nose. Olivia’s head throbbed. Memory of Paul Bateman’s presence remained alarming even in the light. “Forgeries,” she held her head with her eyes closed. “Peter, they painted forgeries of the originals.”
“Take it easy. I’ll get you some water.”
“No, no please stay right here.”
Peter straightened the pillows against the headboard then leaned back slightly taking Olivia with him. “What did you see in your dream?”
Olivia closed her eyes again. “I saw several large easels. There was a man copying an original master and he was good, extremely good - stroke for stroke. I only saw his back and one side of his face, but he resembled Joel Koder the man with the bowler hat and Paul Bateman. The artist must have been Henry, Joel Koder’s son and Paul’s father.”
“So, you’re saying Paul’s father or someone in Paul’s family copied original work then sold the copies as originals? You got all this from a dream?”
Olivia opened her eyes. “Worse yet,” she sat up and looked directly at Peter. “Henry or someone copied looted originals and sold those copies to unsuspecting buyers. Then after the war, via the ALIU only copies were returned to surviving family claimants. Millions of dollars of original paintings were kept for the Bateman estate.”
“I’m not sure of the year, but I saw copies of the same four paintings we found hidden in the closet with the paint still damp. My dad found numerous complimentary articles about Henry Bateman as an art conservator. His reputation was international. He also authenticated thousands of WWII paintings as originals.”
“Paul began working with his father while still in his teens. After his father’s death Paul authenticated even more art, that he had to have known were his father’s forgeries. And those forgeries were the art returned to claimants who believed they were getting back their family’s lost property.”
Olivia didn’t mention seeing Paul Bateman. She had no idea how Paul’s presence could have happened but knew she needed to see Dr. Morton right away.
“How many dreams like this one have you had? I have no idea how we’ll prove any of this.” Peter took a deep breath. “Fed-Ex is helping us track the destination for each of the deliveries, but Paul Bateman and his father literally wrote the book on authenticating the stolen WWII art. Other investigators used the knowledge Paul gained from his father’s experience.”
“Peter! That blue and white vase!” Olivia suddenly realized its significance. “Paul’s father couldn’t make a duplicate of it, Henry Bateman’s only expertise was oil painting. But that vase was at the gallery in Baltimore and here in the same location as the four paintings found with Richard Haywood.”
They never went back to sleep, neither one even tried. Olivia was afraid to sleep and Peter couldn’t relax. Just before sunrise reluctantly Peter left Olivia for his condo to shower and change, and Olivia returned to the Oak Street house.
Coming down the stairs Mr. Jamieson was surprised to see Olivia sitting at one end of his kitchen table.
“Will Dr. Morton join you for coffee this morn…” Olivia became too emotional to finish.
Alarmed, Greg Jamieson rushed to his distressed daughter. When she was calm once more Olivia recounted her most recent dream. It left him sickened and helpless.
“I couldn’t tell Peter that Paul Bateman had somehow gained access to my dream. He was already struggling to process the information from my dream he had just witnessed. He asked if I had had other dreams too. I didn’t want him to worry.”
“Worry him? Your life was, is in danger.”
Olivia stood and walked to the toaster. “M-a-y-b-e not.”
She looked back to her father. “It just occurred to me that Paul threatened my life because he didn’t want me to report what I’d seen on the second floor of the art gallery. But his presence left my dream so suddenly, and now I’ve done just that. I told Peter.”
“Toast?” Olivia asked her father.
Greg Jamieson shook his head, still shaken by this abrupt turn with Olivia’s dreams.
Olivia dropped bread in the toaster for herself still thinking. “If Paul Bateman could gain access to the same frame-of-time, I happened to visit after I fell asleep – then I wonder if someone else could as well? Odd though how abruptly he left. One minute he had his hand squeezing my throat-the next he was gone, as if he had been jerked awake or something...”
With a little food and feeling a little recovered Olivia showered, arranged for Maxine and Judy to open Satin & Silk then she called Collin to meet her upstairs at the apartment. And she hadn’t heard from or spoken to Collin since the night he and Phoebe met with her dad.
Olivia hadn’t heard from Phoebe either since her cousin left for Steamboat Springs to stay with her parents, which was unlike her.
At the apartment Olivia gave Collin a hug. “How are you?”
“Betrayed! I hope to get over that, someday. Eventually that bastard Bateman will only be a name on some pages of a vague police investigation!”
Olivia had never seen Collin express such anger or anguish, she thought she understood. “How are you and my cousin?”
Collin smiled, but in his tone, there was contempt. “Eventually Phoebe Jamieson will only be a name for the memory of a distant time in my life too.”
“I’m so sorry Collin.” To Olivia it seemed that Collin acted like someone in mourning.
“Don’t be” He expelled an audible sigh, “because I woke up. When I saw Phoebe with that skinny, conceited jerk, I woke up. I want what Peter found in you. Phoebe and I didn’t have that.”
Olivia hugged Collin again then descended the stairs to the store. At the bottom stair as she reached to open the door to the store, she heard whistling. Actual whistling came from Collin as he began framing the walls for the new bathroom. Fortunately, with the door to the stairs closed the hammering and sawing was muffled for the next two hours then the plumber and the electrician arrived. By noon, Collin and a friend carried new drywall to close-in the kitchen half-wall and the walls around the second bathroom.
With Maxine and Judy on the floor to greet customers, Olivia finished another order for the coming week. She tried to reach Phoebe leaving a text and voicemail message on her cousin’s new cell phone, before Olivia finished her other office paperwork. Before she closed for the day Olivia called the restaurant office landline, hoping to catch either her aunt or her uncle, but could only leave a message for them too.
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Author website: www.patchworkpublishing.com