Murder Paints a Picture

by Thea Cambert

  “Michael’s coming, too,” said Owen.

  “Oh good!” said Franny. “Maybe he’ll have some insight about this art theft-slash-murder business.”

  Everyone loved Michael Boyd, a brilliant poet and the concierge out at the Lodge—a.k.a. the Great Granddaddy Mountain Preserve and Resort Lodge, just outside of town. He’d been spending more and more time with the group of friends lately, and with his unique perspective and quiet intelligence, had even helped them to solve a few mysteries.

  “Knock, knock!” Michael opened the door and stuck his head in. “Anybody home?”

  “You’re just in time!” said Owen. “Come in!”

  Michael came in and took a seat next to Alice at the kitchen counter. “So . . . what are we doing?” he asked, his brown eyes twinkling.

  “I know that look,” said Owen, pointing at Michael. “You’re onto us, aren’t you?”

  Michael smiled broadly. “There’s been a murder in Blue Valley,” he said. “And I know you three.”

  “You might just be as perceptive as you are handsome,” said Owen with a wink. “And maybe you can help us.”

  “Gladly,” said Michael.

  They gave Michael a quick rundown of everything that had happened so far.

  “We need to create a mental image of the person who did this,” he said, hopping up to straighten a picture Owen had just hung on the wall. “That way we’ll know who we’re looking for.”

  “The evidence, not to mention my own finely-tuned gut instinct, is pointing to the fact that the person who’s been messing about with the Toussaint painting at the mansion is the same person who killed Talbot.”

  “Agreed,” said Alice. “So, what do we know about this individual so far?”

  “Well, we know Talbot had just had coffee with his killer,” said Franny.

  “That’s right,” said Owen. “Antifreeze-laced coffee.”

  “Presumably it was someone Talbot either knew or was at least on coffee-drinking terms with,” said Michael.

  “And Talbot had told all of us to come to the studio, but then changed his mind and told us to wait an hour, remember?” said Owen. “I’d bet this person showed up and Talbot wanted to spend some time with them. That’s why he pushed us back an hour.”

  “That’s plausible,” said Alice, nodding. “So, he liked the person enough to put off meeting with the class. What else do we know?”

  “Oh! I bet the person is an artist,” said Franny, raising her hand. “Because they created the amazing forgery of the painting.”

  “True,” said Alice. “Of course, they might’ve bought or commissioned the forgery . . .”

  “But if it’s true that they had to quickly change the signature to match the original, like you said, that makes me think they were able to do the work themselves,” said Michael.

  “So, the killer is an artist who had a friendly acquaintance with Talbot?” mused Owen.

  “And had access to a fake Runesville Fire Department SUV?” wondered Franny.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Alice. “Going over and over it in my memory. I remember seeing the SUV leaving Hemlock House that day . . . There was a glare on the windshield so I couldn’t make out the driver’s face. But the lettering on the side of the vehicle . . . It’s possible it was one of those magnetic thingys.”

  “You mean a custom magnetic car sign?” asked Michael.

  “Right,” said Alice.

  “We have them on all the cars over at the Lodge,” said Michael. “You can order them in any design you want.”

  “But if someone went to the trouble of having a magnetic sign made, they’d have had to plan this thing well in advance,” said Franny.

  “Right,” said Alice. “They knew the Astors had that painting and planned a pretty elaborate heist to steal it.”

  “But really fairly simple when you boil it down,” said Owen, sliding a stack of plates into a cabinet. “Anyone who was interested in that painting could’ve easily found out that Bernard Astor owned it and that he kept it in his Tennessee Smoky Mountain mansion. The Astors have made no secret of its location.”

  “In fact,” said Michael. “They’ve publicized the acquisition of that painting quite a bit. Its whereabouts are common knowledge.”

  “So,” said Owen, “the killer created a forgery, got everyone to leave the house in a hurry, went inside, swapped the paintings, and left. Simple as that.”

  “You’re right,” said Alice. “I’ve read about some of the world’s most famous art heists. People do all kinds of things to lay their hands on valuable pieces.”

  They all thought for a moment.

  “So, take the Runesville Fire Department sign off the side of that red SUV,” said Owen closing his eyes. “I’ve seen a car like that this week.” His brow furrowed as he thought. “Mia! From my photography class!”

  “It’s Mia’s car?” asked Franny.

  “Not hers, no,” said Owen. “She came over from Memphis ahead of her friends.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Alice. “You told us about that. She came to take Talbot’s photography class, but she’s still in town for the art festival. There’s that whole group of artists in from Memphis. They have a booth down on Main Street. Selling paintings.” Alice’s eyes widened. “So, it’s very possible one of that group stole the painting. They own a car that looks just like the one we saw at Hemlock House . . .”

  “And they’re artists. They probably have the skills to produce a forgery,” said Franny.

  “Owen, has Mia mentioned where the group is staying?” asked Michael.

  “As luck would have it,” said Owen, a smile spreading across his face. “Right around the lake, at the Cozy Bear Camp and Glamp.”

  “It’s a lovely evening out,” said Franny. “I could put Theo in his sling and we could take a little stroll. Get some fresh air.”

  “I’ll carry him!” Michael volunteered.

  “Great!” Franny slipped the baby sling over Michael’s shoulder and snuggled Theo inside. Theo smiled at Michael and cooed contentedly.

  “He loves his Uncle Michael,” said Franny, planting a kiss on Theo’s fuzzy head.

  “I’ll leave a note, in case Ben and Luke arrive while we’re gone,” said Owen. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 11

  Cozy Bear Camp and Glamp was a short walk further around the lake from Owen’s cottage. Owned by Harve and Sue Anderson, the campground offered something for weary travelers of every kind. There were rustic campsites for those who brought their own tents and sleeping bags. And there were luxurious glamping tents, for those who preferred to take their time in the great outdoors with a side of hot and cold running water and a comfortable bed. Every day at Cozy Bear offered a variety of fun activities, whether that meant a night of karaoke and ghost stories around the campfire, or a gourmet meal under the stars.

  As Alice, Owen, Franny, and Michael walked through the arched entryway—which was festooned with late-season roses and twinkle lights—they were surprised to see Ben and Luke just emerging from the small check-in cabin with Harve and Sue.

  “I wish we could be of more help,” Harve was saying when he looked up and spotted Alice and friends. “Hey! Are you four also hot on the trail?” Theo reached a tiny hand out and Harve let him grip his finger. “Are they teaching you the mystery-solving ropes, young Theodore?”

  “We were just telling Ben and Luke here that we have no idea who made that call,” said Sue. She quickly looked at Ben and Luke. “Oops. Was I supposed to divulge that?”

  “Oh, I expect they’d figure it out eventually anyway,” said Luke with a chuckle. “The truth is, they had also figured out that Blue Valley Smart-n-Safe never made that call to Hemlock House.”

  “Are you saying the call came from Cozy Bear?” asked Alice.

  Luke just looked at her, but that was answer enough for Alice.

  “From our courtesy phone,” said Harve, tilting his head back toward the little check-
in cabin. “And if that call was made Saturday morning, that would’ve been when Sue and I were busy with fly fishing lessons, down the way.” He pointed toward the lake. “Any one of our guests could’ve used the courtesy phone—other than the ones who were with us at the lesson, of course.”

  “Well how about that,” said Owen. “The clues led us here, too. But we’re on the hunt for a—” He glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “A red SUV.”

  “Yep. We got one of those,” said Harve, nodding in the direction of the small parking lot that lay just outside the entrance.

  “Whose is it?” asked Ben.

  “Group of ladies from Memphis,” said Harve. “Four of them—well, five, really. One of them came a few days early. They’re all staying together in one of our large glamping tents.”

  “Artists,” added Sue. “They’re here for the festival.”

  “Let’s go check out that SUV, before it gets dark,” said Luke.

  The whole group trouped over to the parking lot, and sure enough, there was a red SUV parked toward the edge next to the woods.

  “Do you think this was the car you saw Saturday morning at Hemlock House?” asked Ben.

  Alice, Owen, and Franny stepped closer to the car.

  “Could be,” said Alice, walking around it.

  “Here—look at this!” said Franny, who was bending down, examining the side of the car. “You can see where the magnet was!”

  “Magnet?” asked Luke, squatting next to Franny.

  “A customized car magnet,” said Michael, who was standing by, gently bobbing up and down to keep Theo happy. “Made to disguise the car so it’d look like it came from the Runesville Fire Department.”

  “See here?” said Franny. “The car got dirty on its drive down the mountain, because you can still faintly see the outline of the magnet.”

  “Ah ha!” said Owen, who had walked over to the campground dumpster and had managed to climb up the side—and was now teetering on the rim. “Come look at this.”

  “Owen, be careful!” said Alice, hurrying over to join him.

  “Don’t worry, I—whoa!” Owen flapped his arms about madly in an attempt to regain his balance, but to no avail. He fell into the dumpster with a thud. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered from within. “Now I stink.”

  “Owen, what did you find?” asked Ben.

  There was a rustling sound in the dumpster, and then a rolled-up car magnet was thrust triumphantly over the rim. Next, Owen’s leg came over, and after some maneuvering, the whole of Owen fell out and landed on the grassy ground.

  Franny and Ben carefully unrolled the magnet.

  “Runesville Fire Department,” Luke said. “Nobody touch this. Ben, do you have a pair of gloves?”

  Ben pulled out a pair of latex gloves and handed them to Luke, who put them on, and carefully re-rolled the magnet. He carried it to the police cruiser, which was parked nearby, and locked it inside.

  “Now,” he said, walking back over, “Harve and Sue, tell us what you know about the ladies who came here in this SUV.”

  “Sure,” said Sue, leading them all back over to the check-in cabin, where she grabbed a clipboard from the desk. “Let’s see . . . There’s Lee Fairchild, Samantha Pendleton, Amy Smith, and Mona Avery. And Mia Bly is the woman who came in her own car a few days early.”

  “And you said you were offering a fly fishing lesson Saturday morning? Were any of these women at that lesson?”

  “All of them were, weren’t they?” asked Harve, looking at Sue.

  “Nope,” said Sue, flipping through the pages of her clipboard. “I have the sign-up sheet right here. Looks like Samantha, Amy, and Mona were with us. I can’t account for Lee Fairchild. Or Mia Bly either, for that matter.”

  “Well Mia wouldn’t have been fly fishing,” said Ben. “Because she was in your photography class. Right, Owen? She would’ve been with you all at Hemlock House.”

  “That’s right. She was,” said Owen.

  “But she was late,” said Alice. “She got there right as we were going into the house.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Franny. “She said she’d overslept.”

  “Overslept?” Harve gave a little laugh. “She was up bright and early. We saw her having an argument with that Lee Fairchild.”

  “That’s right,” Sue confirmed. “She looked really upset when Lee pulled away in the SUV.”

  “Owen, didn’t you say Lee has a big chip on her shoulder?” asked Alice.

  “Yes I did,” said Owen, nodding. “I’ve only met her once, but she struck me as one of those people who is perpetually up in arms.”

  “That’s our impression too,” said Sue. “She was asking about whether Cozy Bear uses biodegradable products and pointing out that in charging more for our glamping tent rental, we might be inadvertently discriminating against people who can’t afford to glamp, rather than camp.” Sue scoffed. “Harve and I have always prided ourselves on our care for the environment and our customers. That woman was looking for something to get angry about.”

  “Harve and Sue, do either of you remember about what time it was when Lee Fairchild pulled out of here in that red SUV on Saturday morning?” asked Luke.

  “I’d say it was around eight o’clock,” said Harve.

  “That’s right,” said Sue. “We were over by the water, but we have a clear view of cars coming and going through the entrance. I remember hoping that car wouldn’t scare the fish away. The class was just starting.”

  “And the call to the Astors was made from here about ten minutes before eight,” said Ben. “So, it fits, time-wise.”

  “We would’ve been too busy prepping for the class at that time to notice anyone going into the cabin and using the courtesy phone,” said Harve.

  “And we arrived at Hemlock House around nine,” said Owen. “Which means Lee Fairchild would’ve had just enough time to drive up, take the painting while the house was empty, and drive out—just as we arrived.”

  “And she would’ve known what time the photography class was supposed to arrive at Hemlock House too, because Mia would’ve told her. I wonder what they were arguing about,” said Alice.

  “Do you know where Lee and Mia are now?” asked Luke, turning to Harve.

  “They took Mia’s little car and drove into town. Said they were going to have dinner and do some preparation work at their booth for tomorrow,” said Sue.

  “We’d better go find them,” said Ben, looking apologetically at Owen. He gave Franny a quick kiss. “We’ll get over to the housewarming movie night as soon as possible.”

  “No worries!” said Owen, linking arms with Alice and Michael. “We’re planning to stay up late.”

  Chapter 12

  “Why did you let me stay up so late?” Owen moaned the next morning as he, Alice, and Franny walked toward St. Helena’s Episcopal Church.

  “Owen, we were all asleep by midnight,” said Alice. “And besides, I didn’t think making it to a ten o’clock memorial service would be all that challenging. I mean, we woke you up at nine.”

  “So, if Talbot is from New York, why are we having his funeral here?” asked Franny, who had dropped Theo off at her parents’ house and was just catching up with Alice and Owen.

  “This isn’t his funeral,” said Alice. “I expect that’ll be in New York. This is just a short service celebrating his life and art. The Blue Valley Council for the Arts thought it would be nice to hold it here, since this was Talbot’s last . . . well . . .”

  “Got it,” said Franny, nodding.

  “There are so many artists in town right now, I bet there will be quite a crowd.” Alice looked ahead toward the church as they turned left onto Phlox Street. “So many people admired Talbot’s work.”

  Sure enough, the little church was crowded.

  “We might even run across a few suspects here,” Owen said under his breath as they walked up the little brick sidewalk to the church’s entrance.

  “Wel
l, two of them definitely won’t be here,” whispered Alice. “Mia Bly and Lee Fairchild. I just got a text from Luke saying that he and Ben can’t come to the service because they finally got those two in for questioning.”

  “I got the same text,” said Franny.

  “I’m glad we came up with a profile for our murderous art thief,” said Owen. “We can look around and see if anyone other than Mia and Lee check those boxes.”

  “Agreed,” said Alice. “Let’s review. We decided we’re looking for an artist or someone who has access to the kind of artist who could’ve created that forgery. The red SUV part of the equation is what pointed us to one of the group from Memphis. And all of them had alibis except for Lee—or possibly Mia, since she was late getting to Hemlock House Saturday morning.”

  “The red SUV is definitely the damning piece of evidence when you look at it that way,” said Owen. “But what connects everything together? What’s the common denominator?”

  “The Toussaint painting,” said Alice quickly. “It’s got to be the key to both the theft and the murder.”

  By this time, they’d entered the church’s narthex, where people were milling around and quietly talking in small groups before entering the sanctuary.

  Owen nodded toward Ian Foster, who was standing off to the side, studying a beautiful painting of an angel that hung on the wall. “There’s someone who had a very definite interest in the painting,” he said.

  “Hey—he was also at Hemlock House Saturday morning!” said Alice. “Bernard told us he was there trying to buy that very painting.”

  “I’d gotten so excited about the red SUV that I almost forgot about that,” said Franny.

  Owen pulled Alice and Franny into a corner. “Now bear with me on this, because I know it’s a longshot. But what if the person in the red SUV came to Hemlock House and the paintings had already been switched? What if somehow Ian had managed to do it while he was there?”

  “Let’s go say hello,” said Alice, and the three of them coolly made their way over to where Ian was standing.