Nicole’s face fell when she saw me. But the shock didn’t last. She pushed her shoulders back and gave me her familiar scowl. “What are you doing back here?”
“Taking a minute away from the crowd.” I looked past her, to the older man she’d left me to talk to earlier tonight. He huffed, his arms full with a sculpture that had to weigh a ton. “Didn’t think you were supposed to touch the art exhibits, much less bring them out the back door.”
“I’ll have you know this man bought this piece.” She stepped toward me. It took everything I had not to back up. I knew very little about art exhibits, but after watching the docents descend on Casey for touching the block of straight pins at the ICA, I was pretty sure this was not the way a priceless work of art should be handled. “Now, if you’ll get out of our way, he’ll be able to put it into his car and we’ll be able to enjoy the rest of our evening.”
Something wasn’t right about this. “Shouldn’t he go out the front door?”
Nicole mashed her lips together, nostrils flaring. “He’s parked back here.”
“There’s no one parked back here, Nicole.” It was my turn to take a step toward her. I’d caught her off guard enough that she backed up. “Is this what you did the night you stole the painting?”
“You think I stole the painting?” She laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. The country bumpkin who’s covered in cat hair thinks I’d steal a priceless painting from my own aunt. Go back to New Hampshire, Addie. Leave the investigation to the professionals. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”
“I know you stole the painting.”
A waitress entered the room and backed down the hallway when she saw the scene playing out.
“Get Margaret,” I said before she got too far away. “Bring her back here.”
“Wh-Who’s Margaret?” she asked.
“The person who hired you.”
Nicole laughed. “I hired the help. I wouldn’t trouble my aunt with such a menial task. She’s seventy years old. She doesn’t have to work for a living anymore.”
I tensed at the way she said work, like it was beneath her. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d stolen from her own family, but she didn’t need this painting, or the money that its sale on the black market could generate.
“Get the really well put-together lady with straight gray hair, wearing a green patterned dress and black boots.” Margaret would stand out in any crowd.
“You really think my aunt is going to take the word of someone she just met over her own family? You’re probably the one who stole her cat, looking to cash in on an art theft.”
I bristled. Now I knew where Henry got that theory from. “She’ll be really disappointed in you.”
“I don’t care what she thinks, Addie. I’m an adult. Maybe you should try acting like one.”
“Stop underestimating her.”
Another nostril flare. Nicole did not like being called out. “Who told you I did that? Your new boyfriend, the art lover?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“Maybe you’re in on this with him.” Nicole scoffed. “You helped him haul the painting out of here in the middle of the night. Never saw you before the painting was missing.”
“What on earth is going on here?” Margaret scanned the kitchen, and her gaze landed on the man with the sculpture. “Why do you have that in the kitchen?”
“Because he was about to haul it out the back door,” I said.
Margaret gasped.
“She’s delusional, Aunt Margaret.” Nicole put her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Martin noticed a chip in the sculpture, and I know that Henry keeps some of his sculpting supplies back here.”
“That’s not what you told me.” My heart was racing. “They said he bought the sculpture, and they were bringing it to his car out here.”
Margaret furrowed her brow. “No one’s purchased anything yet—”
“That’s not true.” Nicole’s tone had totally changed since her aunt entered the room. “I’ve conducted a few purchases tonight.”
“None of the pieces for sale have prices on them. I’m the only one who knows what they’re worth.”
“I’ve gotten you more than a fair price.” Nicole smirked.
“Have all your sales gone out the back door?”
“Nicole, what is going on?”
“Can I put this thing down now?” Martin asked. Someone who’d spent more than a house worth of money on a sculpture definitely wouldn’t call it a thing. He didn’t wait for permission and put the piece on the table with a thud that made me wince. I expected shards of plaster to rain down, but priceless art was sturdier than I thought it would be.
“She’s the only one who could’ve taken the painting,” I said. “She was able to slip into the gallery undetected. The door flashes when it’s opened, but it doesn’t make any noise.”
“I’m not the only one with the code,” she protested. “And you know that, too.”
“I just looked out the door to see what could’ve happened the night of the theft.” I probably did look pretty guilty. “Henry has the code, but he doesn’t have a car.”
“He could’ve rented one. Or had an accomplice.”
“But then how did Persephone wind up in New Hampshire?” I paced in the tiny room. “Would he have laid a trap for her with catnip in a damp alley, taped it up tight, and dumped her outside a shelter?”
Nicole gasped. “How dare you suggest I could do such a thing!”
“I commend you for choosing a no-kill shelter. You must’ve done your research.” I grinned at her. “You didn’t really want to hurt the cat, you just wanted to make your aunt feel bad enough that she closed the gallery.”
Nicole’s lips parted. “How did you know it was my aunt’s cat? She wasn’t wearing any tags.”
She just admitted it. Adrenaline flooded my body, and I was practically seeing stars. “Persephone told me.”
She laughed. “The cat told you.”
I nodded. “She told me the thief was on the way down the hall before you walked in. She says you smell like dead flowers.”
“That perfume is awful, Nicole,” Margaret added.
“I’ll have you know it’s very expensive perfume. Not that you would know that.” She raked her gaze over me. “In your hand-me-down outfit.”
“Borrowed,” I corrected. Lucky deserved more respect, because the dress was living up to its name. “How much does your dead flower perfume go for? About as much as a Bournaise?”
“Enough! Both of you.” Margaret waved her arms and turned to her niece. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“You’re…really believing her? She thinks a cat can talk to her. She’s here covering up for Henry.”
“Henry was the one who alerted me the sculpture was missing. I was on my way back here when the waitress let me know there was trouble.”
“Auntie, I didn’t do it.”
“Why were you headed out the back door with a man who’s not your husband with a sculpture you didn’t pay for?”
Nicole’s mouth dropped. “I told you he was going to fix it. He was trying to help you, like I am.” She glared at me.
Martin had his hand on the door. I’d been so focused on Nicole I hadn’t seen him move across the kitchen.
“Looks like he’s trying to leave before the police get here,” I said.
Nicole groaned. “There’s no need for the police to come. They’ve completed their investigation.”
“I thought maybe I should move the car,” he muttered.
“Why was it in the alley in the first place?”
He grunted and walked out the door.
“If he altered the sculpture, he’d render the piece worthless.” Margaret shook her head. “Then what would happen when someone tried to buy it, Nicole? It would be considered a fraud and I’d be a laughingstock. So either you were trying to leave without paying for the sculpture, or ruin it. And if Addie hadn’t been back here to stop you, you would’ve told me it was my fault. That the gallery is too much for me.”
“You’re stressed.”
“Of course I am! My own niece is sabotaging me.” Margaret looked over her shoulder. She’d raised her voice. The party was still in full swing, but soon, people would know what was happening back here.
“Why don’t you want your aunt to have the gallery, Nicole?” I asked. “You’ve mentioned a few times that you think it’s too much for her, and you think she should retire. She loves it. Why do you want to take it away from her?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Auntie, this house is worth millions. The paintings are popular now, but what happens when Bellamy’s fifteen minutes is over? The gallery will be empty, like it was before. You’ll lose money, and your retirement won’t be comfortable.”
“Who said I wanted to retire?”
“If you sold, you could move back to France with your artist friends and the never have to worry about anything again. You know so much about art, but it’s not the same as being business savvy.”
“I’ve never cared about such things.”
“But don’t you want to take care of your family? We’ve had some bad fortune lately with investments, and selling this property could do a lot of good for all of us.”
“So you thought if you drummed up some controversy and took the painting, you could sell the inventory, and then convince your aunt to sell the house. And you wanted to convince her she was too old to have the gallery by having the painting stolen and dumping a cat at a shelter. Poor old Margaret can’t handle the stress. She can’t even keep a cat. Get the old woman out of the way, no reason for her to be attached to Boston or the house, and be set for life.”
“That’s not what I said at all,” Nicole challenged. “I’m taking care of my family.”
“So am I.” Margaret picked up the receiver of the ancient phone hanging on the wall. “And you can tell the police the rest of the story when they get here.”