Four-Patch of Trouble (22 page)

He did seem completely unconcerned, but then again, he was exhausted, and that was on top of usually being naturally laid-back. I couldn't be sure if his relaxed attitude was due to a complete lack of concern over the threat or simply being too exhausted to care about anything.

"Are libel suits so common among journalists that you can just shrug it off?"

"Not really. I just didn't think Tremain would come after me. Suing someone as earnest and naïve as Stefan is one thing. Taking me on is quite another."

"Tremain wasn't easy to dissuade," I said. "He was adamant about the legitimacy of his quilts all the way to the end, and we know they weren't what he said they were."

"I could have handled it if he sued me."

"Reporting pays that well, does it?"

"Is that why you paid for my admission to the museum today? You were worried that I was broke? I didn't know you cared." He laughed. "I would be broke if I had to live on what I make as a reporter. Fortunately, I've got other resources. Some investments, and I dabble with my own art. I make a comfortable living. More than comfortable, actually."

"You owe me six bucks for your ticket to the museum then," I said, a little irritated with myself for misjudging him so badly. I rose to my feet. "I'm not earning much of anything these days."

"I'll pick up the tab on our next date." He tugged me back down to the bench. "Now that we've established that I'm not broke and I didn't have a reason to kill Tremain or steal his quilt, what about you? Did you kill him? You were alone, no alibi when it happened. I've got to ask, just like you asked me."

I supposed I couldn't go around asking people if they'd committed a crime without being prepared to answer the same question. I just wished we could have gotten to know each other better before we had to confront something this serious. "I didn't have any reason to kill Tremain. I'd only met him, and while he was an unpleasant person, I was a trial lawyer for fifteen years without ever resorting to killing an opposing party."

"So how do you explain the blood that was on your blouse when we returned to the conference room?"

I hadn't realized he'd noticed. He was a reporter though, and close observation was his stock in trade. "It was my own blood, not Tremain's. The forensics report confirmed it."

"That doesn't clear you completely," Matt said. "You could have gotten injured when you were tussling with Tremain before you clobbered him."

"But I didn't." I needed to change to subject before I revealed too much about my tendency to pass out. "There's another person who might have had blood on her. Do you remember when Alyse came back after our break, and she'd changed her clothes?"

"Yeah. Dropped a cigarette ash and burned a hole in her skirt."

"Do you remember if she changed her shoes too?"

He closed his eyes. "She was wearing sling-back pumps with a substantial heel when we arrived. Afterwards, she was wearing flats."

"You've got quite an eye for detail." I pulled out my phone and opened the list of Tremain's customers. "Are you that good with names? Anyone you recognize?"

Matt had only scrolled through the first page before saying, "More like, who do I
not
recognize? This looks like a directory of state politicians, from the mayor of Danger Cove to local councilors and even a few people in statewide positions."

"Could one of them have been the politician allegedly swindled by Tremain?"

Matt continued scrolling to the end. "If it was Mayor Kallakala, he wouldn't have tried to cover it up. He's a decent guy. There are a few more likely suspects among the others, but I'd have to talk to my colleagues to know for sure."

"Just don't make any waves yet. I don't want Wolfe to get any more entrenched in his position than he already is."

Matt returned the phone and rubbed at his red eyes. "That might be a problem."

"What don't I know?"

"I wrote a story about art fraud." He gave me an apologetic look. "It ran this morning, but it's been scheduled for weeks. There's nothing specifically about Tremain or you or the museum. It's a general piece on fraud in the art world. Your friend in the prosecutor's office probably won't even see it."

"I hope not, but so far, nothing's gone my way this week, and it's likely to get worse during the quilt show."

"Worried about your speech tomorrow?"

"A little."

"You shouldn't. It'll be fine. I'll be there in the audience, so you don't have to worry about some clueless, condescending reporter covering it."

Great. Just what I needed right now. Something else to worry about.

Instead of the warm, friendly audience who just wanted to share their passion for quilts with me, I was going to have Matt out there, taking notes, like the judge for a law school moot court competition. And not just any moot court competition, but one straight out of a law student's nightmare, where I'd missed all the relevant classes and hadn't done any of the reading, so I was completely unprepared for an event that could make or break my entire career.

*   *   *

Matt left to get some caffeine, and I went upstairs to see Gil.

Her inner door was open, and she greeted me with, "Please tell me you've got some good news for me. I can't take any more bad news."

"Stefan Anderson's quilt is genuine."

"Oh happy day," Gil sang.

"I'll need to do a little more work to confirm that the quilt is connected with the early lighthouse keeper, but it's possible. Even without the lighthouse connection, it's an amazing quilt."

"I really needed some good news. The board of directors is panicking over the news about Tremain and the possibility the museum will be connected to him, even as distantly as through our sponsorship of the quilt show. I'm also getting phone calls from a slew of Tremain's friends, insisting that the rumors about him are false and demanding that I issue a statement that he was a good friend to the museum. They're even hinting that the museum's state funding will be severely reduced if I don't cooperate."

I dropped my messenger bag on one of the visitors' chairs and sat in the other one. "
Was
Tremain a good friend to the museum?"

"Not as far as I know," Gil said. "He's not on the current donors' list. I never even heard of him until Dee Madison told me her suspicions a few weeks ago."

"I wonder what his friends are so afraid of. It's not like the prosecutor is going to bring any fraud charges against him now."

"I'd guess they're really more worried about their own reputations than his. It never looks good when a politician is revealed to have consorted with a suspected criminal. They're worried enough that they're not even entrusting the calls to their aides but are calling me directly. I wish we could get that kind of response when we're submitting an application for a grant or looking for a local celebrity to attend an event at the museum."

"It's pretty sad that they'd rather see the murder go unsolved than look foolish in front of their constituents."

"It's not just the politicians who think that way but even some members of my board." Gil picked up a newspaper from her desk. "I was hoping the investigation into Tremain's frauds would be kept low-key, even if the investigation into his murder stayed in the news. Unfortunately, it's not working out that way. The front page of the arts and entertainment section of the
Cove Chronicles
isn't exactly low-key."

I glanced at the headline, "The Risks of Art Collecting," and didn't need to read the byline. "I haven't read it yet, but Matt told me it didn't mention the museum."

"Just mentioning art forgery is enough for people to start thinking of the museum," Gil said. "I've got another dozen phone messages from local residents worried that the museum got cheated by Tremain."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"At least that answer is simple. We've never bought anything from him."

"Things are looking up then," I said. "I'm planning to write up my report on Stefan's quilt for you tonight in case you want to announce the acquisition tomorrow, and then I'm hoping to get my speech finished for the quilt show so I don't give the guild a reason to disown me. With everything that's been going on, I haven't had much time to work on it this week."

"Quilters never disown anyone," Gil said. "They're more like the Borg, and they'll assimilate you. Next thing you know, you'll be on your hands and knees, crawling around the floor with a needle and thread, basting the layers of their raffle quilt as penance for your botched speech."

"They'd be disappointed all over again. I'm not good with a needle."

Gil smiled. "I hear that's what Emma said when she first met Dee."

I took the long route home and did some window-shopping along Main Street for something more colorful to wear tomorrow. Even if I had to wear one of my boring trial suits, I could perk it up with something brighter than my basic white blouses. Unfortunately, I reached Stefan's gallery at the end of the shopping district without seeing anything that appealed. My speech was just going to have to be extra colorful to make up for my boring wardrobe.

Stefan came out of the gallery, the hem of his pants catching on the uneven sidewalk, and called my name. "I just got a call from Gil at the museum. They're going forward with the acquisition, contingent on receiving your written appraisal and if we can agree on a price, which I think we will. We're pretty close already."

"I'm glad. You found the perfect quilt to kick off their acquisition program. They're lucky to have you nearby."

Stefan tugged on his bow tie self-consciously. "I'm just doing my job."

Tremain wouldn't have been that humble if he'd brokered this kind of deal for one of his quilts. That probably explained why Stefan's gallery was less successful than Monograms. Stefan had the better merchandise, but Tremain had the better sales pitch.

I wondered if any quilt collectors had bought from both dealers. Perhaps a disgruntled client of Tremain's had even transferred his allegiance to Stefan.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the list of Tremain's clients. "Would you mind taking a look at these names? Is there anyone there who might have had a grudge against Tremain?"

He scrolled through the list, pausing a few times. "Where'd you get this?"

I couldn't exactly tell him it was his competitor's confidential client list. "It's just something I got from the prosecutor's office. It includes some possible suspects in Tremain's murder."

"Mayor Kallakala is a suspect?"

"Think of it like a photo lineup, where they show a witness a bunch of pictures of random people known to be innocent, along with the one real suspect. The idea is to make it so you can't easily guess who might be the real suspect."

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" Stefan asked.

"From what I've heard, Tremain liked mingling with politicians, so maybe one of them had a reason to kill him."

Stefan started at the top of the list again and scrolled down slowly and methodically. "I don't know any of them personally or professionally. Just the politicians by reputation, and I never saw any of them with Tremain. Sorry."

He handed the phone back to me. I was disappointed but not too surprised. The politicians might well have expected Tremain to bring his merchandise to them, rather than visiting the shop personally. "Did any of the names on the list contact you about the lawsuit against Tremain and try to pressure you to drop it?"

"They didn't have to," Stefan said bitterly. "Tremain papered me to death, and I think he enjoyed it. Like he was just toying with me. He didn't take the case seriously enough to call in any favors."

So why was someone calling in favors now? Tremain was beyond caring about anything, but someone was worried.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help," Stefan said. "I'm heartbroken over Emma's arrest. I can see why the police suspect her, even if they're wrong. There were only a few people in the shop anywhere near the time of the murder. Emma and Dee, you, Matt, and Alyse. That's it."

"And the landlord."

"I'd forgotten about him," Stefan said. "He was still inside when Matt left with Dee and Emma."

"You saw them leave?"

He nodded. "Business was slow, and I was curious about your meeting, so I was watching the shop. I thought I'd be able to catch you when it was over and find out if you'd accomplished anything."

"You can give them an alibi then."

"Not entirely," he said. "I saw them go on over to the bakery, and then I saw Matt heading over here, and I just didn't have the energy to deal with him again, so I put my lunch-break sign in the window and ducked into the back."

"Did you see where Matt went afterwards?"

"He went over to his truck and climbed inside to make some phone calls."

Matt's phone logs would give him an alibi, one that was more solid than anyone else's.

Stefan must have noticed the relief on my face, because he said, "You didn't really think Matt could have killed Tremain?"

"It's standard operating procedure for preparing a case," I said. "Consider all the possibilities so you can rule out every explanation except the one you want the jury to adopt."

"Why would Matt kill Tremain?"

"To prevent Tremain from suing him for libel. You know how expensive litigation can be."

Stefan laughed. "Matt would never worry about a libel suit."

"No one likes being sued."

"Matt's different. For one thing, he's independently wealthy. He could pay a dozen libel judgments, including the attorney's fees, and not even notice the cost any more than you or I would care about paying for a cup of coffee. If he was worried about his financial portfolio, he could earn another million bucks this year alone, just by making a few phone calls."

Matt? The guy who drove a beat-up truck and wore clothes that were several years old? He'd said he wasn't penniless, but I hadn't seen any indication he was anything other than simply a guy who kept his spending within his means. "I never thought reporting could be that lucrative."