“These are amazing.” I would’ve totally passed by the truck Henry had ordered the lobster rolls from. We sat on a concrete wall under a multicolored sunset. Ocean waves crashed against it, and seagulls squawked overhead, angling for an opportunity for a French fry.
I listened to their cries, hoping that I’d understand something. I wished I could talk to every animal. Maybe Persephone could teach me how. But I’d probably never see her again after Saturday night. I might never know what happened to Margaret, or the painting.
Or Henry.
All these people had been in my life for less than a week, but somehow, they’d managed to send me down a different path.
Nothing from the seagulls. But I’d still leave them some fries.
Henry wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This is one of my favorite places. You can see so many different parts of the city from here. The airport, and the shipping ports. Makes me feel like I’ve gone somewhere without leaving the city.”
“Do you know anything about Margaret’s cat?” I groaned inwardly. So smooth.
He furrowed his brow at my change of subject as he swallowed a bite of his lobster roll. “She’s a cat.”
“Of course she is.” I couldn’t stop this train now that it was in motion. I needed to own my weird. It wasn’t like this was a date, and I was trying to impress Henry. “Have you picked up on anything unusual about her?”
He shrugged. “She likes to sleep in the front window of the gallery. It’s the sunniest spot in the room. Gotta respect that.”
“So nothing unusual.”
Another funny look. “Margaret baby talks to her, which is funny, because it’s so unlike Margaret. And the cat seems to hate it.”
She did, but I couldn’t tell him that. “I’m wondering how she wound up in my shelter in New Hampshire. Doesn’t seem to fit with the theft.”
His gaze shifted to the shipping containers on the horizon. Seagulls still cawed around us, but there was something peaceful about Henry, like he was the calm in the middle of the storm. “The two things might not be related.”
But they were. “Do you have any ideas who could’ve done it? Are there other people who spend a lot of time at the gallery? Anyone who showed an unusual interest in the painting?”
He paused for a moment and shook his head. “I’m mostly there late in the afternoon, because of my school schedule, and after hours. So it was often just Margaret and me, and sometimes her handyman.”
“Sully?”
He grinned. “That guy’s a trip. He’s always up in arms over what he hears on sports radio. I’ve had to talk him off the ledge more than once.”
My heart knocked so hard against my ribcage there was no way Henry wouldn’t sense my apprehension. “Are the two of you friends?”
“Not beyond the gallery. He cracks me up. Margaret swears he can fix anything.”
“Is he interested in the paintings at all?”
“I’m not even sure he’s noticed them.”
I took another bite of my lobster roll. I usually ate all the lobster first and then the bun, but I was trying to be classy. “How did you connect with Margaret?
“I heard that Bellamy Bournaise’s partner opened a gallery in Boston and I went and introduced myself. We have people in common, and I’ve been helping her come up with ways to capitalize on the foot traffic she gets from tourists.”
“Did Margaret ever express concern over anyone who came into the gallery?”
“I’ve already talked to the police, Addie.” He gave me a tight smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” The truth was, I liked Henry. Even if I shouldn’t. I might never have swiped right on his picture—okay, that was a lie, but I probably would’ve chickened out if this was an actual date—and I’d become an unexpected part of the theft. There wasn’t exactly etiquette for this situation.
“I bet you’re a great teacher. You did an amazing job of explaining the exhibit to me.”
His lips quirked into a smile. “You asked great questions.”
“Guess questions are kind of my thing.” I bit into a fry. “I can’t stop thinking about how me winding up with Persephone and someone taking the painting could be connected. If Margaret owns that house and she’s sitting on all those Bournaises, she’s got some money. Do you think they could be extorting her?”
“Like an art dealer.”
“Or a real estate agent.”
“Not that she mentioned. She got annoyed with the dealers and their lowball offers. She’d send them packing. It was a thing of beauty.”
“Sorry I didn’t get to see it.” I could totally picture it.
“Bournaises are going for crazy money right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if that painting has already changed hands.” He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.
“Would any of those people have access to the gallery after hours? The police don’t seem to be taking the break-in seriously because there’s no sign of forced entry.”
“I never saw anyone else there after hours.”
“Does Margaret ever forget to lock up?”
He shook his head. “There’s a code on the keypad. It automatically disarms the security system.”
“So whoever did this was able to get in quietly while Margaret was upstairs and take off with the painting and the cat.”
He put the food containers into the paper bag. “I could ask how you wound up with her cat and why you’re so concerned with finding who did this.”
I opened my mouth, about to lay into him with a hearty dose of how dare you. But of course he thought I was suspicious. That was probably why he’d invited me out tonight. “Persephone was left in a duct-taped box on my doorstep in the middle of the night. We often reunite lost animals with their owners and stay in touch after the adoption to make sure everything goes smoothly. If something else happens and Persephone’s involved, she might not be so lucky next time.”
“That makes sense,” he said quietly, and his gaze was focused on the ocean. “I feel that way about my students. Sometimes there’s only so much I can do to help them, even when I know they need more from me. I’m an art teacher. It sounds so insignificant, but I might be the last chance of stopping these kids from making a bad decision.”
“What made you call me at the shelter?”
“Margaret raved about you. She was impressed that you went the extra mile to reunite her with her cat. She thought there was more to you than met the eye. And I do, too.”
It shouldn’t have felt like a compliment. Henry could be dangerous. “I’d never heard of Galerie Bellamy until Persephone…until I saw the story online.”
“I don’t want to end this night on a sour note,” he said. “It sounds like we both want to see Margaret get the painting back.”
I managed a smile. “We do.”
“Tell me more about the shelter.”
“Thank you for asking. No one ever does.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why not?”
“Probably because they’d rather forget the unpleasantries—that some animals come to us in bad shape. We’re a no-kill shelter, and we do our best to make sure everyone feels like they have a home. Every single day is different. It’s not an easy job, but there’s nothing I’d rather do.”
“What else do you like to do?”
I laughed, thinking of Brooke and Casey. “I order takeout and watch cooking shows.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“I believe in leaving such things to the experts.”
“Will you be at the party on Saturday night?”
“I will.”
He grinned. “Me too.”
Brooke and Casey were in front of the food truck, gesturing madly at me. I couldn’t figure out what they were trying to say without blowing our cover.
“We start early at the shelter.” I stretched and tried to make sly eye contact with my friends, to stop them before they made a scene. “And it’s a long drive back.”
“Yeah, I have an early start too.” He pulled out his phone and swiped. “I need to get a ride. With the T strike, things are crazy in the city.”
I bundled up my trash and sprinkled the rest of my fries on the rocks below. The seagulls divebombed in appreciation.
“Do you come to the city often?” he asked as we walked back.
“Almost never.”
“Sounds like that’s changing if you’re coming back on Saturday.”
Brooke and Casey were right behind us, close enough to hear our conversation. I stopped in front of our parking lot, and I hoped they were paying attention so they didn’t bump into us. “This is where I’m parked.”
He turned to me. “Maybe you’d like to go to a Sox game sometime?”
I raised a brow. “You can get tickets?” Every game was sold out and they went for a fortune on the secondary market.
“My uncle’s had season tickets since I was a kid. He can’t go to as many games anymore, and he lets me pick a few games. If you’d like to come with me, let me know.”
“I’d love that.”
“I had fun tonight, Addie.” He gave me a crooked grin. “We can compare notes on our investigations on Saturday.”
Brooke and Casey were sitting in the car, waiting for me.
I might have watched him walk back to the museum for a little too long, judging from the beep of the horn.
“I totally thought he was going to kiss you,” Brooke said when I climbed into the back seat.
Casey turned around and gave me the same look she usually reserved for the dogs when they peed on the floor. “You can’t just leave the museum like that, Addie. We were totally freaked out when we couldn’t find you.”
“He’s harmless, I think.”
“You also think he stole a priceless painting,” Brooke reminded me as a blush crept up my face. “That doesn’t change because Henry turned out to be a hottie. Did you get any good information out of him?”
“Not really. He said there were art brokers hanging around because Bournaise is hot, and I know Margaret’s on the fence about selling. And that she’s received offers for the house. But none of those people would have the security code.”
“Maybe a delivery person looking to make a quick buck when they realized the old woman is sitting on a goldmine?” Casey offered.
“Wouldn’t they deliver during business hours?”
“True.” Brooke tapped her finger against her lips as we sat in traffic. “Could it be some sort of hacker? Or someone who figured out the code from watching other people use it? Or maybe she left it on a sticky note somewhere?”
I shrugged.
“It would be so cool if we figured this out. Maybe we could open a side hustle as a private investigation firm.” Casey laughed. “We save animals and solve crimes.”
“Think about how amazing that would look on our dating profiles,” Brooke said. “And my postgrad applications.”
“I don’t think this will be a regular thing, but maybe we can use some of our new detective skills to find lost pets’ parents, especially if Casey keeps touching art exhibits.”
“I thought we were going to get tossed out.” Brooke laughed.
Casey’s face reddened. “It was made of straight pins. It was so…touchable.”
“Do you think he did it?” Brooke asked.
“We both managed to accuse each other of taking the painting.”
She gasped. “How did he think you did it?”
“He thinks it’s suspicious that I wound up with Persephone.” As we drove away from the museum, it gave me perspective. “He’s definitely got motive. The money. He’s got access with the code. He’s friendly with the handyman, who seems like he’d be able to do the heavy lifting. But he has a lot of respect for Margaret and the paintings. It will be interesting to see the two of them interact at the party.”
Casey turned around in her seat. “Did you tell him about Persephone?”
“That I could talk to her?”
She nodded.
“I hinted around, trying to ask him if he could talk to her without actually asking him, and wound up making it sound like I thought he’d taken the painting.”
“So how did you leave it with him?”
“He asked me to a Red Sox game.”
“That’s a date, Addie.”
“Yeah, it probably is.”
We were stopped in traffic, and Henry was in the next car. He turned and met my gaze, his face lighting up as he waved.
Brooke smiled at me in the rear-view mirror. “Sounds like you might get a reward out of this no matter what.”