by Rick Polad
“Curious. And you got the paintings from Kathleen’s studio?”
“Yes.”
“They were stacked and ready for you?”
“No. Miss Johnson isn’t very well organized. They were all over the place. Some were stacked on each other.”
“So you checked them against the list?”
“Yes. And put them in a crate.”
“Could you have taken one that wasn’t on the list?”
His eyes moved around the gazebo. “Well, I don’t know.”
“If you did, that would solve one of my problems.”
He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
I moved nearer to him on the bench. “There were two paintings with similar names—Green and Blue, and Blue and Green. Green and Blue was on the list. Blue and Green wasn’t, but it was missing from the studio. Do you remember those?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. Why? What happened?”
“I had put ten paintings in the crate. Then I found Green and Blue, but it was already checked off. I found the rest. I figured I had grabbed a wrong painting, but the crate was packed and it was near quitting time so I didn’t want to unpack it.”
“You brought them all back?”
He nodded.
“Did you find Blue and Green?”
“Yes. It was near the bottom.”
“How did you know the names?”
“They were written on the backs of the stretcher frames.”
“So why didn’t you pull it out and bring it back?”
“I didn’t want to get blamed. Mr. Gunderson got mad whenever I made a mistake. He said if I made more he would fire me.”
“Didn’t you think someone would find it sooner or later?”
“Well, no. I had a plan.”
Aunt Rose came down the path with lemonade. I thanked her.
“So how much were you going to get for switching the paintings?”
“A hundred bucks.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “Okay, I’m really confused, Cletis. How is a hundred bucks going to make you rich?”
“Do I have to tell you?”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. But there’s still a lot about this that doesn’t make sense. And if you did something that led to the murders and help me now, that will help you a lot.”
He became agitated again, violently shaking his head. “I don’t know about any murders.”
“Okay, calm down, I believe you. What about the money?”
He looked around, like he was making sure we were alone and asked, “Do you have to tell anybody?”
“Not unless it’s part of the other crimes.”
Biting his lower lip, he continued. “I figured something big was happening and all I was getting was a hundred bucks. Why should Tony be the one getting rich? So I didn’t switch the paintings the way he wanted. That was my plan. I switched the frames for Green and Blue and Blue and Green instead of the one he wanted. Then I could go down there and take Blue and Green, put it back, and keep the frame.”
“Why not just take the frame of Green and Blue?”
“If I took it before they were shipped, it would be easy to pin it on me. But if I took it from Simmons, after they signed for it, then someone at Simmons would be blamed. No one would know I made a mistake and then I’d be the one getting rich.”
I thought through his plan. It wasn’t bad. “And that would take care of your mistake.”
He nodded and took a long drink. So did I.
“But it fell apart.” I kind of felt sorry for him.
“Yeah, when I found Mr. Gunderson I knew Tony had found out about the switch and come after me. He got Gunderson instead. I guess I didn’t think of that.”
“Or someone did. Why do you say it was Tony?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Cletis, this is so confusing that it could be twenty other people.” I figured he wouldn’t want to know one of those others was Larry Maggio.
He finished the drink and chewed on a piece of ice.
“Just a few more questions, Cletis. Do you have any idea what was so special about the frame?”
“No. But I looked at it when I switched them and it looked the same as the others to me.”
“One more. When I was in the frame shop I looked around. There were several tools. You did the framing, right?”
“Except for Green and Blue.”
“Right. So when you’re building a frame, what do you need a drill for?”
He spread his hands, palms up, and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You don’t need a drill to make a frame?”
“No.”
“But there was a drill on one of the tables. Any idea why?”
“Well, maybe Mr. Gunderson used it for the ducks.”
“Maybe. Thanks for talking to me, Cletis. Do you have any questions?”
He shook his head. “Just thanks.”
“Sure. You just take good care of Peggy Sue. And no more get-rich schemes.”
“Gotcha. I will.”
As we were walking around the front of the inn, Aunt Rose was just getting up from a rocker on the porch. Cletis went inside.
“Aunt Rose, is Maxine inside? I’m going to see if she wants to go to Wilson’s for ice cream.”
She glared at me and said in a stern voice, “She is not. She already went to Wilson’s for ice cream.”
I smiled. “Great. I’ll walk over there.” I started to walk down the drive.
“Spencer. She went with one of the fishermen.”
That stopped me dead.
To my back, she said, “Spencer Manning, that girl loves you. If you care about her, tell her.” A few seconds later I heard the screen door squeak open and then bang shut.
I continued down the drive, waited for a few cars, and then walked across the road to the bench by the harbor. It was the bench where I had sat when I first dropped Maxine off at the inn two years ago.
Chapter 33
I got back to the inn a half hour later. Ben was sitting on the porch. I invited him to come to the cottage for a sleepover. After a smart-ass response, he packed a bag and followed me back across the peninsula. We talked over a couple of beers on the deck and I brought him up to speed on Cletis.
“This is beautiful, Spencer,” he said as he looked out over the bay. “Does it belong to Rose?”
The breeze off the water was cool and the sky was clear and full of stars. I felt sorry for people who never left Chicago who would never see this sky.
“It did, partially. She owned it with Mom and Dad. We worked out the will and did some swaps and now it’s mine—or it will be when the papers are processed.”
He just stared out over the bay.
I smiled and said, “You can use it anytime you want.”
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. The painting situation is still confusing. Lots of people trying to steal something.”
“Yeah. But what is the something?”
“What color were the frames?”
“Just natural wood with a varnish. Why?”
“Just thinking. It has to be something on the frame. That rules out gold coating of some sort. And it has to be the frame, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Paul suggested that she painted over a valuable painting, but the swap was made for the frame, not the painting. And Kathleen wouldn’t have done that.”
He nodded and scrunched his lips together. “So what else could there be with the frame? And who has it?”
“Well, there are three choices—Bloom, Vitale, and Maggio.”
“How about whoever bought the painting?”
“My guess is that’s Maggio. I don’t think he’d care if one of his companies lost a painting. Just an insurance issue. But he cares about this.”
“And you think he’s involved?”
“I know he’s involved in something. He confirmed that when he said he was missing something.”
>
“And the murders and kidnapping?”
“Don’t think so. Maybe he has a bad apple—someone freelancing.”
“So if we set Maggio aside, which of the two do you like for the murders?”
“I’d have to lean toward Vitale, but who knows. He overheard a conversation between Bloom and someone else. So Bloom is in on whatever is going on. He may just be part of the plan or he might be the freelancer.”
Ben nodded. “And Vitale tried to steal it from Bloom.”
“Yes. And if I had to bet, I’d say Vitale is more likely to be violent than Bloom.”
“Do you think Vitale knows the connection to Maggio?”
“If he does, he’s nuts. But I don’t think so. It took hours of digging through records for Stosh to find out.”
“Do you think Bloom knows?”
“That’s more likely, but I’m guessing not.”
He set his beer bottle on the deck. “So, all that aside—where are the paintings? And there’s one more possible thief—Kathleen.”
“Well, technically not a thief. It was her painting.”
“That’s her friend talking. Maybe she did take Harbor Nights.”
“There’s no reason she would do that,” I said emphatically.
“That we know of.”
“Okay, let’s say she did.”
“Then what happened to Blue and Green?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. But if it was Blue and Green she took, she must have hidden it somewhere,” I said. “And it’s the one with the switched frame.”
“But where?”
“Stop asking questions I don’t know the answers to. I’m not buying that she took Harbor Nights. Bloom reported one stolen painting, Harbor Nights. I’m assuming that was taken by Vitale, thinking Cletis had made the switch. And then there’s Blue and Green that Kathleen took.”
“And Green and Blue?”
“That’s one of the paintings that was already sold. It must have been picked up by the buyer who I’m assuming was Maggio, thinking that it was in the special frame. He then discovered he didn’t get what he had bargained for.”
“And how was Gunderson involved?”
“Cletis said that he framed all the paintings except for Green and Blue. Gunderson did that himself. Whatever is special about that frame was done by Gunderson. I figure he was part of the plan and got a cut. I also think that whatever is going on has been going on for a while. This framing procedure with the lists is pretty strange, but Kathleen’s brother said that was the way they did it with his father.”
“So, back to Blue and Green.”
I sighed. “Okay. I think Kathleen thought the gallery was trying to steal her painting. She didn’t know it was just a mistake by Cletis. She had four hours Friday morning before Rosie and Steele got there to hide it.”
He looked puzzled. “How did she have four hours?”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask.”
He chuckled. “Okay. So, we just have to figure out where she could have gone in four hours.”
I laughed. “Anywhere. Four hours up here is a really long time. You can drive around the whole damned peninsula and stop for lunch.”
“Everything’s gotta be somewhere.”
“Exactly. But there’s a more important question.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Where’s Pitcher?’
“Still no calls?”
“Nope. Very strange.”
“Sounds like a loose cannon.”
“Yup. And that’s not good for Pitcher.”
I picked up the beer bottles and tossed them in the garbage in the kitchen.
“What’s next?”
“Man. I really hate to say it, but I think next is a visit to Simmons Gallery. I’m really getting tired of driving back and forth.”
“I bet. I have another question.”
“Shoot.”
“I overheard Rose’s comment about Maxine. Do you care about her?”
“I do. She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Then?”
“Then, things are a bit complicated.”
“Because of what she was?”
I nodded.
“That matters to you?”
“No. Remember the wonderful part?”
“So?”
I took a breath, let it out, walked to the railing, and stared out over the bay.
“Everything would be fine. It has been. We have fun together. I liked holding her hand and wanted to do it again.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The first time we… You know.” I shook my head. “It just, well, she’d wonder, or I’d wonder, or she’d be wondering if I was wondering. It would always be hanging over our heads. And then we’d both lose a friend.”
“So, you can’t forget that she used to be a lady of the evening?”
I stared out over the water. “I think I can, but I don’t think she can.”
Ben joined me at the railing. “You’re not giving her that chance.”
I didn’t respond. There was more to it.
“Spencer, Rosie is a wonderful woman, too. What’s your excuse with her?”
I turned to him and frowned. “Some sleepover this is.”
He barely smiled. “Good night, Spencer.”
“Good night, Ben.”
Before I shut off the lights, I called Rosie and made a lunch date for Tuesday at Molly’s to catch her up on the latest and maybe talk about us.
I went to bed with a few questions crossed off the list and several still nagging at me. Not all were about the case.
Chapter 34
I ate an early breakfast on the deck, just cereal and blueberries, while watching various species of birds fly back and forth from the feeder to the evergreens. My neighbor two doors to the south pushed off from her dock in a canoe. We waved.
When I pulled out of the drive at seven, Ben was still asleep. I left him a note telling him to lock up whenever he decided to leave, and that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.
About an hour north of Milwaukee, I switched the radio to WGN and listened to Roy Leonard who followed Wally Phillips, talk radio at its best. The lead story on the ten o’clock news was the weather. Heat warnings were out, especially for senior citizens. The predicted high was one hundred—the record was one hundred two.
Forty minutes later, my pager beeped with my home number followed by the number nine—call now. I pulled off at the next exit. Lieutenant Powolski picked up on the first ring.
“We got a call, Spencer. He gave us a location and wants you there at three this afternoon. Rosie told me you have a lunch date at noon so I agreed.”
“Where?”
“I’ll fill you in at lunch. Are you coming home first?”
“No, going straight to Molly’s.”
“See you there.” He hung up. I looked at the phone and sighed as I hung it up. I got a Coke out of the machine and walked slowly back to the car. It was too hot to move any faster. As I pulled out, I sighed. It may have been a sigh of relief—I couldn’t talk to Rosie about us with Stosh around.
***
Stosh and Rosie were already there when I walked into Molly’s, sitting across from each other in a booth. I slid in next to Rosie. We all ordered burgers.
“So? Fill me in.”
Stosh emptied half a glass of water. “This heat is nuts. Male caller, wants you unarmed at a location up near Gurnee at three. Gotta drive your Mustang.”
“Okay. But there’s a big problem. I’ve got nothing to trade. I still don’t know what everyone is looking for.”
“Well,” Stosh continued, “there are a few oddities. One is, it was a new caller.”
“Geez, this just keeps getting crazier. So three different guys. Doesn’t the same guy usually make the calls with something like this?”
“Yup.” He finished the water. “Second, this guy was not nervous. He knew what he wanted to say and he said it.”
I nodded.
“And third, he didn’t ask for a trade. He just gave the location and time and said what you were looking for would be there.”
“How does that make sense?”
Rosie looked concerned. “You could be walking into a trap, Spencer. You’ve pissed off a few people lately. Maybe you’re the target.”
I turned to the lieutenant. “Your take on this?”
“I agree with Lonnigan. This smells bad.”
“How would they get me?”
The waitress brought the burgers. I reached for the ketchup.
“Any number of possibilities. I talked to the Gurnee police. It’s a deserted motel far enough off of Highway 41 to be isolated—hidden from the road. There’s nothing out there. Could be a sniper, or a bomb on a timer, or an ambush by someone in the motel.”
I took a bite. Delicious. “Can you position someone somewhere?”
“Nope. I asked Gurnee. There’s no way of placing someone without being seen if someone is watching. But the good part of that is there’s no place for them to hide either, except in the motel rooms. So keep your eyes open.”
“Good. Ambush or bomb. I feel much better. Any suggestions?”
Rosie answered firmly. “I suggest you not go.”
I reached across the table and touched her arm. “Thanks. Glad you want me alive, but my gut feeling is this isn’t a trap.”
“Then what the hell is it?” Stosh spat out. “If the guy doesn’t want a trade, what’s the purpose?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”
“Spencer.” She moved her arm away from my hand. “Are you sure it’s your gut?”
“What else would it be?”
“Guilt?”
“Guilt?” I replied.
“Yes. As I said before, you’re not responsible for Pitcher being kidnapped.”
“Hard not to feel responsible, Rosie. I led them to her.”
“Not on purpose.”
Stosh put down his burger. “If you two are done playing therapist, let’s make some decisions here.” He turned to me. “I could order you not to go.”
“How could you justify that?”
“Interfering with a police investigation. And you may not come back.”
Rosie laughed. “That’s never stopped him before.”
“Which?” asked Stosh.
“Both.”