Four-Patch of Trouble (21 page)

"Then it could have been anyone, not just Emma. Has anyone talked to the landlord yet? He was there at the time of the murder."

"They haven't been able to find him."

"Isn't that a bit suspicious?"

"Not really. It's not like they've been devoting all their time to finding him. They've been busy following up other leads." Wolfe turned to his computer monitor and pulled his keyboard into position to begin typing. "If you don't have anything more solid than speculation, I've got a press conference to prepare for."

I stuffed the picture and camera back into my messenger bag. "What would it take to get you to look at some other potential suspects?"

"A confession would be nice." He reached into his drawer to pull out a business card. He scribbled something on it and handed it to me. "I don't usually give out my personal cell phone number, but I'll make an exception for a confession."

I took the card. "I'll be calling."

With Wolfe's disbelieving laughter still ringing in my ears, I tried to regain a bit of calm on my walk home. It wouldn't do Emma any good if I passed out on the sidewalk and ended up in the hospital.

Following up with the names on Tremain's list of customers was best left to the police, if only because it would take far too long for me to contact them all, and Emma needed to be released from custody as soon as possible.

If the theft of the four-patch at Monograms was related to the murder, then there was yet another, much shorter list of possible suspects: everyone who had known the stolen quilt was more valuable than all the other quilts added together. The only names on it, other than Dee and Emma, were Alyse, Stefan, and Wolfe. Maybe Gil too, if she'd taken some classes to prepare for the museum's planned quilt acquisitions. If the break-in had happened during the quilt show, I might have added some out-of-town quilt collectors to the list, but it was unlikely that any of them would have arrived for the show before last night. No, much as I'd have liked to believe otherwise, the odds were that the thief was someone local.

About halfway home, I realized there was one other local person who had definitely known which of Tremain's quilts was valuable. Matt Viera. Arts reporters didn't get paid all that well in general, and the battered state of his truck and faded clothes suggested he was just barely making ends meet. I'd told him what the four-patch was worth myself. Even without the provenance, the quilt was worth considerably more than Matt's beat-up old truck, probably more than the sum total of everything he owned.

I needed to know where Matt had been last night.

I called him, but he didn't answer. I left a message, asking if I could meet him at the museum in an hour. That would give me enough time to do some quick background research on Tremain's clients to see if I could narrow it down to a manageable number. With luck, I'd find a more likely suspect than Matt before I confronted him. I had never let my personal feelings about a client or opponent sway me while representing a client, and I wouldn't let them now, but I had to admit I really hoped Matt hadn't been involved with either the quilt theft or Tremain's murder.

I arrived home to find Lindsay's car parked near my front door, with Dee in the passenger seat. Lindsay helped her grandmother inside and over to the stools at the kitchen peninsula while I retrieved a variety of soft drinks and placed them within reach of my visitors.

"We're taking a break from the quilt show preparations," Lindsay said.

"I don't need a break." Dee snagged a ginger ale. "I'm here to help you get Emma out of jail."

I handed Dee a glass. "There is something you could help me with. I've got a list of people who may have bought one of Tremain's fake quilts. Would you take a look and see if you recognize any of the names?"

"Just tell me who to recognize, and I will."

"I'm not suborning perjury. I just need to know as much as I can about the names on the list." I pulled the phone out of my back pocket, showing Lindsay I had it on me, and then opened the file and handed it to Dee. She scrolled through the names while Lindsay popped the top on the ginger ale and poured it for her grandmother.

Dee shook her head and set the phone down. "No one from the quilt guild, that's definite. A few names seem familiar, but I can't place them. Sorry I couldn't tell you anything more."

"Ruling out possibilities is useful too. At least now I know none of the guild members were defrauded." I pocketed my phone. "There's one more thing you can help me with. Did you both hear about the break-in at Monograms last night?"

"It was all anyone could talk about today." Lindsay fidgeted with her own can of cola. "We weren't sure how much of it was true though. There were sort of a lot of different stories."

"According to a reliable source, the only legit antique in the place was stolen, and nothing else was touched," I said. "If that's true, then the thief had to know a lot about quilt values. I was hoping you could tell me who around here would have that kind of expertise."

"I do," Dee said. "And Emma."

I had a bad feeling Dee would have been just as self-incriminating with the police if they'd asked the same question. "I was hoping there'd be others who have similar knowledge. Otherwise, the police might blame you and Emma for the quilt theft as well as the murder."

"That's just ridiculous," Dee said. "As if I'd want a stolen quilt."

"I know, but it's only ridiculous to people in the quilting community. The police aren't part of that group. They've put together a good bit of circumstantial evidence that makes sense to them, even if it's crazy to us. They know about Emma's criminal conviction, and there's a witness to Emma arguing with Tremain recently. The best thing we can do right now is to compile a list of alternative suspects. Even if Wolfe won't investigate them, Emma's attorney can use them for reasonable doubt."

"I wish I could help," Dee said, "but I just can't imagine anyone I know stealing a quilt."

"What about Gil Torres?" I hated to voice the suspicion, but I had to consider all the possibilities, and, while I liked what I knew of her, I didn't know her all that well.

"Gil?" Dee sputtered. "You can't possibly think she's involved with the theft."

"I'm just trying to come up with some alternatives. Does Gil rely on professional appraisals for museum acquisitions, or does she have some expertise of her own?"

"I don't really know." Dee took a sip of her ginger ale. "Gil has never come to any of the guild meetings. As far as I know, she appreciates quilts as historical objects more than as art, and textiles aren't even her primary interest. She's only interested in them as a subset of items that settlers brought here by way of the Oregon Trail."

"Okay, so not Gil," I said. "Can you think of anyone else?"

Dee looked at her glass thoughtfully. "You probably ought to talk to Matt."

If Dee suspected Matt, then I definitely needed to talk to him.

"He's done some stories on stolen artwork, including quilts," Dee went on. "They go missing from shows sometimes or while being shipped, and too many of them are never recovered. A lot of older quilts aren't signed, and even when there is a signature, thieves will remove or obscure the label to make it difficult to identify."

So Dee didn't suspect Matt of anything, after all. I hoped she was right, but I needed to know for sure. 

"Matt is such a good guy," Lindsay said. "Did you know Tremain threatened him with a libel suit over one of his stories a few months ago? Matt was looking into Tremain for my grandmother, and he kept digging into it even after he knew he might get sued."

Either Matt was extremely dedicated to his work or extremely foolish. Defending against a libel complaint was expensive, even when the complaint was eventually dismissed, as most of them were. Of course, if Matt had no assets other than his ancient pickup and his collection of cargo pants, then he didn't have anything much to lose if there was a judgment against him.

"It's fortunate that Matt has an alibi for the time of the murder," I said, "or someone might think he killed Tremain."

"What do you mean?" Dee said. "Matt doesn't have an alibi."

"I thought he was with you and Emma."

"Not the whole time," Dee said. "I didn't think it mattered, but with Emma in jail, well, the more information you have, the better the chance of getting Emma released quickly. Matt is a dear man, and I'm sure he didn't kill Tremain, but we can't honestly give him an alibi for the whole time we were away from Monograms."

My stomach rebelled. Not with the usual nausea that preceded a syncope event, but with a tightness that suggested I hadn't been entirely successful in my attempt to remain objective about the possibility that Matt could have killed Tremain. "Did you tell that to the detective?"

"He never asked if Matt was with us the whole time, and you said we shouldn't say anything they didn't specifically ask about, so we didn't."

I hadn't realized until then just how much I was counting on Matt having a good answer for where he was last night when the quilt was stolen. "How long was Matt gone?"

"Just a few minutes," Dee said. "He walked to the bakery with us and then excused himself to go across the street to talk to Stefan. He came back about five minutes later, right as the waiter was bringing us our cupcakes and drinks."

If Matt had been out of sight and without an alibi for five minutes, was that long enough for him to nip back to Monograms and assault Tremain?

Dee was apparently having the same thought. "I can't imagine Matt hurting anyone. At least not physically. He's bruised a few egos with his reporting, but I've never seen him angry or the least bit aggressive physically. You've seen how he puts up with Stefan's constant criticism without getting the least bit irritated."

I'd been wondering about that. "Is their bickering the sort of thing that siblings or close friends do, or is it true animosity?"

"There's definitely some history between them," Dee said, "but they won't tell me what their problem is. One of these days, I'm going to drag the truth out of them."

I couldn't wait that long to know everything that mattered about Matt Viera. I could use his help with identifying the people on Tremain's customer list, but not if he was himself a suspect.

Dee was anxious to get back to the quilt show setup, so I turned down Lindsay's offer of a ride to the museum. Even so, I arrived before Matt did. I bought him an admission ticket and waited for him on the steps.

Matt looked at the ticket I held out to him. "What's that for?"

"I invited you here. The least I can do is pay for your ticket."

"So this is a date?" he said with a grin.

It had been a mistake to encourage him earlier. I kept my tone serious and emphatic. "Not a date. A business meeting. Deductible on my taxes even." I led him inside and then through the lobby to the otherwise unoccupied room dedicated to the Danger Cove lighthouse. "Have you found out anything about the politician Martha McDowell mentioned?"

"Nothing solid," Matt said, flopping down on a bench in the middle of the room. "What about you?"

I sat beside him with my messenger bag on my lap, trying to look nonconfrontational. "You know about the break-in at Monograms, right?"

He nodded. "Hard to believe it's a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Impossible to believe. I've been trying to compile a list of suspects." I couldn't avoid the question any longer. "Anyone you can think of, besides Alyse, who might have known which quilt to steal?"

"Just you and me." He had the same amused expression he wore whenever Stefan criticized him. "You're just dying to ask if I stole the quilt, aren't you?"

"I'd rather the detective asked you, but he's probably not all that interested in the theft."

"If I don't have an alibi for last night, are you going to accuse me of killing Tremain too?"

"It's not my job to accuse anyone."

"But you'll wonder." Matt stood and took a leisurely tour around the room without focusing on any of the exhibits. When he returned to the bench, he said, "I usually ignore people when they make stupid assumptions about me, or I distract them into a different train of thought. Neither one's going to work with you, is it?"

I shook my head and waited for him to continue. Sometimes the best way to interrogate someone was not to ask any questions at all but to let him answer the questions he assumed were going to be asked, the ones he was afraid of because the answers were the most incriminating.

"Normally I wouldn't bother to defend myself, but I'm going to make an exception this once." Matt dropped onto the bench beside me again. "I pulled an all-nighter at the
Cove Chronicles
. Talked to everyone there who might have heard a rumor about a politician getting scammed in an art deal. Came up with half a dozen names, in fact, but they all involved paintings or sculptures, not textiles. I can probably get you affidavits from a dozen people who would remember talking to me last night during whatever time frame you want."

I looked into his eyes, framed by the darkest, thickest eyelashes, and his return gaze was steady. I'd seen plenty of witnesses who could tell a complete fabrication without blinking, so his ability to return a stare didn't persuade me of his honesty. The physical effects of sleep deprivation couldn't be faked, however, and his eyes were definitely red and puffy today. If I hadn't been so distracted earlier, I would have noticed the fatigue on his face as soon as he joined me on the front steps.

"I think we can hold off on the affidavits."

"You believe me?"

"Let's just say I'm not going to haul you down to the police station for more in-depth questioning any time soon. Just one more question, and then I'll drop it. I heard that Tremain threatened to sue you for libel. If the police hear about that, they'll consider you a suspect in both the theft and the murder."

Matt shrugged his way through a yawn. "It's all part of the job. I wasn't worried about it."