The Carousel Painter (41 page)

The detective jumped to attention. “
Both
times? The woman was in your store more than once?”

“I thought I mentioned that to you when I wrote that I would be passing through Collinsford. I must have forgotten that, as well.” His eyebrows matted into knotted ripples. “The woman returned with two lovely paintings and asked if I could find them a good home in another country.” He grinned. “Her way of advising me the paintings might be stolen.”

The detective directed a wary look at me. “And you bought them anyway?”

Mr. Charleston edged his finger beneath his collar. “I deal in fine art and jewelry. I am one of few brokers in the state who can properly value such items. Most of my inventory comes from wealthy people who have fallen upon hard times.”

“Still, she told you—”

“Not outright,” Mr. Charleston replied. “People come to me because I understand the value of their items, and I’m willing to pay them more. My shop bears a fine reputation. You’d be surprised at the number of wealthy men who visit my business. When an item is brought to me, I don’t question the ownership. That’s not a requirement of my business.”

The detective didn’t appear impressed with Mr. Charleston’s defense, but he didn’t argue, either. If he was going to gather further information, he’d need Mr. Charleston’s cooperation. “So this woman came in and asked you to find a home for the paintings. I believe you said two paintings. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Unable to squelch my excitement, I leaned across the table. “Were they signed?”

“Yes. I’d become aware of this artist only recently. Leland Brou—” His jaw went slack. He looked at the detective and then at me. “
Your
name is Brouwer, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yes. And I hope you have the two paintings of mine that were stolen from the Collinsford Carousel Factory.”

Mr. Charleston listened intently while the detective explained the circumstances surrounding the theft. When the detective had finished, Mr. Charleston rubbed his jaw. “So that young lady stole both the jewelry and the paintings. And she closely resembles Miss Brouwer? Am I understanding this correctly?”

“I’m not certain she’s the actual thief,” the detective said. “She may be an accomplice selected merely because she closely resembles Miss Brouwer.”

“This thief had a well-thought-out plan,” Mr. Charleston said. “Not many men would contemplate such an idea.”

The detective curled his lips in disgust. “If criminals would use their time and energy for good, this would be a much better world.”

Mr. Charleston removed his pocket watch and snapped open the lid. “I must soon be on my way, Detective. About the paintings . . .” He looked in my direction.

“I have no money to reimburse you,” I said.

Mr. Charleston chuckled. “I believe the detective will inform you that I am not entitled to reimbursement for stolen property.” He stood and turned toward the door. “Besides, I had not actually purchased them. I was to receive a percentage of the sale price once I located a buyer and settled on a price. Now I must inform my prospect that our arrangement must be canceled.”

I could barely believe my ears. “You had a buyer?”

“In London. He was most eager. If you are interested in selling them . . .”

I shook my head. “No, but if you could tell me their value, I would be most appreciative.”

Glancing at the table, he returned and picked up a pencil. After scribbling on a sheet of paper, he folded it in half and shoved it toward me. “This bears my signature and the estimated value of the paintings. If you decide to sell, you should show this to the art dealer. Don’t sell for any less.”

I unfolded the page and gasped when I saw the figure. “This can’t possibly be correct, can it?”

“Trust me, Miss Brouwer, it is correct. I have investigated and know the worth of those paintings.” He extended his arm and shook hands with the detective. “Keep me advised, and I will do all in my power to see that the thief and his accomplice are punished.”

The detective didn’t release Mr. Charleston’s hand. “If I can detain you for only a little longer, I believe I may have a plan that will help accomplish that purpose.”

“Talk quickly. I don’t want to miss my train.”

Mr. Charleston and I listened while the detective quickly detailed his plan. When he’d finished, he said, “All we need to do is set a date.”

“I’ll return to Cincinnati the third of September. Any time after that would be fine with me.” Mr. Charleston was reaching for his hat.

The detective arched his brows. “Miss Brouwer?”

“I’ll speak to Josef and make arrangements to be away from work once you tell me the date.”

The detective hesitated for only a moment. “We can be at the shop on Saturday, the sixth of September. That way you won’t be required to miss too much work, Miss Brouwer. I’ll try to arrange for a train late Friday afternoon. With any luck, we can return Saturday afternoon.” Detective Lawton agreed to write out the details and mail them to Mr. Charleston. The three of us walked out the side door, and Detective Lawton hailed a carriage.

“To the train station,” Mr. Charleston called to the driver as he tossed his bag inside. He turned toward me. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Brouwer.” Giving the detective a mock salute, he said, “I look forward to our future meeting in Cincinnati.”

Once Mr. Charleston was on his way, I tapped Detective Lawton on the arm. “Does this mean you will now remove me from your list of suspects?”

He grinned. “Indeed it does, Miss Brouwer. And I extend my apologies for any difficulty this investigation has caused for you. Nothing personal was intended. I was merely doing my job.”

Now that I no longer had to worry about going to jail, it was easy to accept the detective’s apology. After agreeing on our arrangements, he waved for a carriage. “You sure you don’t want me to come to the factory and explain to your employer?”

I shook my head. “There won’t be any problem. I’ll speak to Mr. Kaestner myself.”

Settling against the warm leather carriage seat, I closed my eyes. So much had occurred, it was difficult to digest the complete depth of it all. When my stomach growled, I realized it was nearly eight o’clock and I hadn’t yet eaten supper. If Josef was at the boardinghouse, I wanted to speak to him and clear the air. Keeping secrets and telling half-truths had proved more difficult than I’d anticipated.

The semidarkness provided a hazy shroud as I approached the boardinghouse. Someone said my name, and a strangled scream escaped my lips. I hadn’t seen Josef sitting on the front porch.

He jumped to his feet. “I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.” With three long strides, he was at my side to offer comfort. Leading me to one of the chairs on the porch, Josef patiently waited until I regained my composure.

“I have so much to tell you,” I said. He offered an encouraging smile and proved to be most understanding when I explained the circumstances surrounding the theft of Mrs. Galloway’s jewelry—and the fact that I’d been the primary suspect. But it was the news of my missing paintings that particularly aroused his interest. He listened intently to that portion of my recital. However, he wasn’t quite as tolerant when he heard of Augusta’s condemning behavior or the fact that the detective wanted me to accompany him to Cincinnati.

“A lot you have told me this evening.”

“Yes, and that’s not even the most important part.”

He stared at me as though he didn’t know if he was up to hearing anything more. “There is something else?”

“Yes. While I was riding home in the carriage, I realized that God had answered my prayer.” I tapped my fingertips against my chest. “
Me
. Can you believe it? God truly listened when I prayed. He saved me from a jail cell. I am so thankful I didn’t have to suffer like Paul or Daniel. It’s amazing. God answered my prayer in the way that I asked.” The words gushed from my lips uninhibited.

“You had faith,” Josef said.

His response settled in my heart like a cold stone. How I wished I could agree with his statement, but in truth my faith had been nearly nonexistent. I hadn’t expected God to act. In fact, I’d expected the opposite. “My faith wasn’t strong at all. I think it’s probably because God knows I couldn’t withstand such punishment. I’m not nearly strong enough to be a martyr.”

“Maybe it’s true that you are not strong enough for living in a jail, but you have changed. Your faith in God, it has increased since first you came to Collinsford. And God, He knows how much your heart has changed, too. Is gut God agrees you should be free. I am pleased all is settled.” He exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair.

Only the sound of chirping crickets and the rustling of a light breeze through the tree branches interrupted the quietude. Josef must not have understood all I had told him. I shifted forward on the chair. “All is not yet settled, Josef. Remember, I must go to Cincinnati.”

When he bobbed his head, several strands of hair fell across his forehead. Brushing them aside, he said, “Ja. And I am thinking such a journey might be dangerous. I do not know why the detective cannot go by himself to apprehend this thief. This is his job. Why must you be there?”

“I’m not supposed to discuss any details. I’ve already told you more than I should have.” I knew Josef wasn’t pleased with my response, but he finally agreed that I could leave work early on the appointed Friday. He stood and paced back and forth in front of my chair. “I hope I will not regret my decision.”

I grasped his hand and pulled him to a halt in front of me. “You won’t. I promise. Thank you, Josef.”

“If something should happen to you . . .” He took my other hand and helped me to my feet. Cupping my chin in his palm, he stared deep into my eyes. “I could not bear to lose you, Carrie.” Lowering his head, he covered my lips with a gentle kiss.

I melted against his broad chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his arms encircling me. Had I ever experienced such love and protection as I felt with this man? Maybe as a little girl when I had walked hand in hand with my mother or father. But since that time I’d buried any longing for love and convinced myself I would live a life without strings or attachments. Now it seemed Josef had changed those ideas. Now I wanted to shed the life of a solitary soul; now I wanted to share my life with another—I wanted to share my life with Josef. Tears pooled in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.

“What is this? You are crying?” Using the pad of his thumb, Josef wiped away one of the tears. “My kiss makes you sad?”

I shook my head. “No. Your kiss makes me very happy.” My thoughts were far too complicated to explain at this time, but one day I would tell him what had created the staggering mixture of emotions. For now, I simply said, “Sometimes ladies cry when they are happy.”

“Ja. My mother, she did this sometimes, too.” His eyes shone with pleasure, and I knew my answer had been enough for the moment.

Lost in our conversation, neither of us heard Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Lundgren approach. “You two will be the talk of the town come morning.” Mr. Lundgren chuckled as he assisted Mrs. Wilson up the porch steps. With his free hand he pointed toward Mrs. McDougal’s house. “Saw Mrs. McDougal leaning over the porch railing that faces this direction. Wondered what she was gawkin’ at.” His grin widened. “She must be taking lots of pleasure in watchin’ the two of you out here.”

“Now, Ralph. Don’t tease the young folks.” Mrs. Wilson plopped down in one of the chairs. “Think I’ll sit out here for a minute and catch my breath. That ought to be enough to send Mrs. McDougal back inside.”

Mr. Lundgren laughed and dropped into the chair beside her. “She might stay out there to see if I’m gonna kiss
you
. Ever think of that?”

“Ralph!” Mrs. Wilson gave his arm a playful slap. “You shouldn’t talk that way.”

“Don’t know why not. Kissing is a good thing, right Josef?”

Before Josef could respond, Mrs. Wilson waved at me. “How was your day, Carrie? Did you and Josef find enough for your supper?”

Supper! In all the excitement to tell Josef what had happened, I’d completely forgotten about supper. I looked to him for a response, for I had no idea if he’d eaten.

Thankfully he patted his stomach. “I am still full,” he said.

Mrs. Wilson’s shoulders drooped. I wasn’t certain if she was tired or if she had hoped to hear we’d had difficulty getting along without her.

“Mrs. Finley insisted upon sending me home with several pieces of her peach cobbler.” She pointed to a basket beside her chair. “I told her I’d left plenty of food for the two of you, and you wouldn’t be hungry.”

My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Both Josef and I strained toward the basket, but I was the first to speak. “I think I could manage to eat a piece. She might ask on Sunday morning, and I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Ja. We would not want to insult her.” Josef picked up the basket. “No need to get up from your chair. I will take it inside.”

Following close behind Josef, I glanced over my shoulder. “And I can dish it up.”

“You’d think neither of them had eaten a bite all evening.” Mrs. Wilson’s comment drifted through the screen door, and I slapped my palm across my mouth to keep from giggling aloud.