FORTY-ONE

The bright sun woke Payton at 8:05. She unfolded herself from around Maggie and stretched. Her first thought was of Aden. She flung off the sheet, padded into the guest room and peered out the window. His car was still in the driveway. The morning paper, wrapped in bright red plastic, lay on the front stoop. He wasn’t up yet.

Payton went back to her room. Maggie sat perched on the edge of the bed, still too small to jump down. Payton carried the kitten downstairs to use her litter box, started the coffee and went upstairs to shower. Payton was dressed and halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. She rushed to pick up the cordless handset. “Hello,” she said a little breathlessly. “Hi, Helen.”

“What time did you get in? Did everything go all right?”

“A little after midnight. Everything’s fine. What did I miss?”

“Aden’s been arrested. The minute he turned into his driveway, they slapped cuffs on him.” Payton groped for the nearest chair and fell into it. Why would they arrest Aden? For leaving the country when told to stay in town? It had to be something like that; it couldn’t be something more radical, like murder. Aden wouldn’t kill Sean. Would he?

Payton fed Maggie and collected her briefcase. Should she take an envelope or two from the box to read at the shop? She rubbed her temples, the site of yesterday’s headache and decided against it. She hugged the ball of white fur waiting by the front door, somehow knowing that her owner was going out again. Payton considered MaryAnn’s idea about taking the kitten to the shop. Instead, she told Maggie, “I’m really glad Sylvie brought you to me. I’ll be back later. You’ll have someone to play with anyway, Mamie should be here soon.”

The humidity hung in the air like wet cotton batting. Aden’s house looked forlorn, as sad as the heavy June morning air. Would they let Aden out on bail? Probably not. He’d be considered a flight risk. But did the authorities really have anything to hold him on? Even if they didn’t, she believed they could hold him up to 48 hours. Payton thought about calling Vaughn to find out what he knew, then remembered their tentative date for tonight. She’d said she’d call him.

Payton spotted Sergeant Espinoza clomping toward the shop just before noon. She greeted him with as much spirit as she could muster. What could he want—again? He got to it soon enough, asking first if Aden Green had purchased one of the monkshood plants.

“I heard you arrested him.”

The slight lift to his fuzzy brows denoted his surprise.

“I assume since you’re asking about the plants again that you’ve arrested him for murder. You’re making a big mistake.”

“Would you mind just answering the question?”

Payton counted on her fingers “He didn’t buy a plant. He doesn’t keep plants because they would die while he’s away. He’s been in the store once, and I didn’t have any plants here yet, so he couldn’t even have stolen the necessary leaves.” She dropped her hands to the countertop. “Why are you here? We both know you aren’t stupid. You didn’t forget I gave you all this information before.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“You want to know if I found out anything in Texas.”

“You went to Texas?”

She stood up and walked around the counter. “The man you had tailing me wasn’t very discrete.”

He was undaunted. “So, what did Mrs. Johnson say?”

“You really shouldn’t let private citizens do your job for you.”

Espinoza recovered quickly. “I talked to her. I’m sure you know that.”

“She wasn’t impressed you delivered news of her nephew’s death via phone.”

“I would like to know what she told you. You were in that nursing home far too long for her to have said ‘sorry, I can’t help you.’”

“Would you believe we became fast friends? We realized we had a lot in common. What’s wrong with that?”

“Name one thing you had in common.”

“MaryAnn. Sean. Sackets Harbor.” She added, “Sailing,” just for something else to say.

“We can do this the hard way…at headquarters.”

“Don’t threaten me, Sergeant.”

How much, if anything should she divulge? She didn’t want to withhold anything that might help, but she also didn’t want their fingers digging into things with the potential to destroy reputations of innocent people. She decided to wade through the rest of the envelopes before saying anything at all—if they didn’t already know about the box. Surely, if someone were watching her…

“I’m sorry. She didn’t tell me anything that would help the case.”

He moved so quickly, she didn’t have time to brace herself. He stepped close. She tried to back away, tripped and went down hard on her rear. The sergeant knelt beside her, true concern on his face. “Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Yes you did. You thought you could scare me into telling you something I don’t know.” She allowed him to help her up.

After Espinoza left, Payton tried to do some bookwork. The trail of numbers was interrupted by a single thought. She hadn’t been tailed from Texas or they would know about the box.

At home, Payton greeted Maggie and Mamie in that order. She went to the pantry, removed two more envelopes from the box and took them to her office. There were several people browsing downstairs, so Payton waited for Maggie to scamper inside and shut the door. With the kitten settled in her lap, Payton examined the envelopes, dated 1/1/95 and 3/17/95. The one dated in January contained a handwritten invoice in the same penmanship as the date on the envelope. It described a sale Sean had made to a man named Rich Saunders, no contact information given. The price was $15,000. The invoice said ”for painting titled Lake George by Church” and stated official documents had been provided. There was no copy of such papers in the envelope, nor was there information as to who’d made out the validation papers. Why did the name Church ring a bell? He must be pretty good if his stuff sold for that much. If the painting was so valuable, why would Sean sell it? He loved having beautiful things around him. Maybe he needed money—possibly to open his café. She made a note to see if the dates coincided.

The second envelope provided the answer to her previous question. It, too, was a sales invoice in the amount of $15,000. This one to a woman, Glenda O’Connor, for the sale of Lake George by Church.

So, Sean was in the business of selling forged paintings. Was it possible the same person had painted the one of Amanda’s Commodore? Who’d provided documentation on the Church paintings? Could it also be Miles Arenheim? A sinking feeling told her it was. Payton put Maggie on the floor. She went to the door and called Mamie, who waddled in.

“Two things: Are you familiar with an artist named Church?”

Mamie assumed a puzzled expression. “You must mean Frederic Edwin Church. Why do you ask?”

Payton shrugged. “I saw a painting of his that I liked. Is it possible he painted two of the exact same painting?”

Mamie’s confusion increased. “I suppose it happens on occasion, but there are always differences.”

“Is Miles returning soon?”

“I have no idea, why?”

“My husband owned a number of buildings in Minneapolis. Well, I own them now. I was wondering if Miles would be interested in setting up another gallery there.” Payton finished the long-winded commentary and took a breath.

“He hasn’t been around to see the gallery since we opened. Maybe I can get him here and you could tell him your idea. Can I use your phone?”

Mamie went to the kitchen to make her call. Payton used her cell phone and dialed the number on Espinoza’s business card and left a voice mail for him to call her. Mamie returned wearing a wide smile, Miles would be able to come as soon as tomorrow, around noon.