Ripped From the Pages

“But you did notice,” I reminded her. “You noticed right away.”

 

 

She considered that and smiled. “That’s true.” Her smile faded. “I wish I hadn’t noticed. Amelia would still be alive if I’d kept my mouth shut.”

 

We were all silent for a minute. It must’ve been hard for Trudy to relive the moments leading up to Amelia’s death, but she was handling it like a trooper. In that moment, I felt sorry for Annie, too, who was curled up with a blanket on one of the benches in the room.

 

And that was when I recalled that she’d mentioned that Josh cut short her date the other night. That was the night Noland Garrity was attacked. Had he left Annie and gone off to meet Noland? Had the two been in cahoots together? Probably not in the beginning, but once they got to know each other, maybe they figured they could do each other a favor. And what about Darlene and Shawn? Had the four of them recognized a familiar streak of larceny in one another?

 

Annie was dozing, but I suspected she was listening off and on to Trudy’s story. I glanced at my mom, who was sitting on the bench, stroking Annie’s hair. I knew she considered Annie one of her own daughters, and I was happy that Annie had someone in her life like my mom.

 

I couldn’t predict the future, exactly, but I could foresee a rollicking good cleansing ceremony in Annie’s future.

 

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “While the police were cleaning things up a little while ago, I ran a quick survey of Josh Atherton’s last four years of articles. He wrote feature stories from archaeological digs, museum events, and art gallery events from around the world. And with each article he wrote, there was a corresponding story in various local newspapers noting that a small item of significance was found missing sometime after the event concluded.” She glanced down and read from her phone screen. “‘Items missing included a shard of pottery, a book, a ring, a length of cloth, a small bell.’”

 

“Tokens,” Gabriel murmured.

 

Elizabeth looked up. “Yes, tokens. Souvenirs. Each newspaper story mentioned that the particular item was small and not an essential part of the event, but historically important nonetheless.”

 

“Like my quail sculpture,” Trudy said.

 

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. “Yes, like your sculpture.”

 

“Why was he never caught?” I asked.

 

“The items were insignificant. They wouldn’t have been missed right away.”

 

Annie dragged herself up to a sitting position for the first time. “Knowing Josh, he probably arranged for someone else to look guiltier than himself.”

 

Mom frowned. “Why would you say that?”

 

Annie looked straight at me. “He was already talking about how that appraiser you guys hired . . .”

 

“Noland Garrity,” I said.

 

“Yeah,” Annie said, nodding. “Josh told me that he saw Garrity sneaking into the storage cave. When I asked Josh why he didn’t report the guy to the police, he said that as an investigative journalist, he often worked undercover with the police.”

 

“What a crock,” Jackson muttered.

 

“He told me the police had asked him to keep an eye on Garrity, get to know him, and see what made him tick. They suspected him of stealing the artwork he was hired to appraise.”

 

“So Josh was setting you up to point the finger at Garrity,” I surmised. “Much later, of course, after he and Garrity were gone and we finally discovered something missing.”

 

“That’s horrible,” Mom said.

 

I sucked in a breath and stared at Derek. “The Renoir. Did he take that, too?”

 

“No,” Elizabeth said.

 

At the same time, Jackson said, “It’s safe.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Derek confirmed.

 

I gazed from one to the other, shaking my head, then looked back to Derek. “I think there’s a story here.”

 

“I found it hidden behind the false wall of the wardrobe,” Derek said to me. “It was just the other day, when I went back to investigate further.”

 

“You never told me,” I said.

 

He took my hand and squeezed it. “We’ve had a lot going on,” he said, then glanced at Jackson and Elizabeth. “I’d like to hear your take on it.”

 

“When I saw the photograph of the painting at the town hall,” Elizabeth said, “I was sure it was the Renoir we’ve been looking for. The Nazis stole it from a wealthy family living near Oradour-sur-Glane shortly after the massacre. I asked Jackson to get me into the caves to study it up close.”

 

“And then you hid it?”

 

“No. I found it in the wardrobe, right where Derek found it. I have two theories. One is that Garrity planned to steal it, but he couldn’t get it out of the cave without Derek catching him, so he hid it in the wardrobe until he could sneak back in and steal it for good.”

 

“What’s your other theory?”

 

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