Paige set her mug of tea down on a side table, closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the couch. The conversations around her blended together and soothed her. Timberton's residents had grown to be her friends. As she listened to the murmur of voices, she replayed the events of the morning in her mind, as best she could remember them. She had a vague recollection of Jake leaning over her in the tunnel, followed by the memory of being carried out into the fresh air. Sheriff Myers had been there somewhere...but in handcuffs? No, that didn't make sense. Wasn't he the one who had carried her out? No, wait – that was Jake. Or was it one of the firefighters? And what about the packages inside the tunnel? Hadn’t there been packages?
She opened her eyes, looked around the room and sighed. She'd never been much for painkillers. If she’d been more insistent about refusing them when the doctor stitched her forehead up, she’d be having better luck putting everything together.
Jake slid beside Paige and pulled a paper out of his pocket; he unfolded it and smoothed out the creases. He leaned toward Paige and lowered his voice. “I think you'll want to see this.”
“From Lambert?” Paige asked, her words sluggish, but her curiosity triggered.
Jake shook his head. “Close, but no. These are from a friend of his at the Smithsonian. Look carefully at the paper, you'll see similarities.”
Paige nodded. “This is an infrared image, like the ones Lambert showed us. But it's not the same painting.”
“Exactly,” Jake said. “They’ve had this painting at the Smithsonian for some time, hoping to identify the artist. The signature, like the one on Clive’s painting and the one from Great Falls, is Silas Wheeler. But, you can see from the underdrawings, this one is by the same, unknown artist who painted Clive’s.”
Paige took the paper and looked at the markings revealed by the infrared reflectography. “OK, I can see that. But does this really mean anything? There are plenty of artists who do outstanding work. So what if these aren't by Wheeler? It doesn't necessarily make them valuable.” Maybe the painkillers were clouding her enthusiasm. She didn't share Jake's excitement. To add to her distraction, a clatter from the middle of the room erupted as an arm reaching for the plate of cookies knocked the bowl of sugar onto the floor. Mist went to the kitchen to fetch a broom.
“Just hear me out,” Jake continued. “Lambert's friend at the Smithsonian has had a buyer for that painting for some time. But he held off selling it, hoping to find others for comparison.”
“So Clive's painting may be worth more,” Paige said.
“Yes, quite a bit more. There’s something else, too.” Jake grinned.
Paige gave him a puzzled look, waiting for him to explain.
“A lump was found in the painting they’ve been holding. Turned out it was a small sapphire.” Jake waited for the information to sink in.
“A sapphire? You mean…?” Paige’s eyes grew wide.
Jake nodded. “Yep, a tiny Yogo, buried in a thick brush stroke of paint. So Lambert sent Clive’s painting and the one from Great Falls through another analysis and found sapphires in those pieces, too.”
“It sounds like our mystery painter had more than one secret signature.” Paige felt her thoughts clicking into focus.
“Exactly,” Jake said.
“I could get a second article out of this.” A huge smile spread across Paige’s face.
“I certainly think so.” Jake mirrored her smile. “Maybe you'll even have to extend your stay to write it.” His touch on her cheek was hopeful.
“Don't count on it,” Paige laughed. “I suspect Susan will know I've gathered enough 'in the field' information to write the rest from the office.”
“How about some more tea?” Jake lifted the empty mug beside Paige. He walked to the center table for a refill. Mist had just arrived with the broom and had it aimed at the spilled sugar when Jake suddenly grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“Wait,” he said. His tone was sharper than he meant it to be, but he needed to be sure Mist heard him.
Mist simply stopped moving and held the broom by her side. Jake rushed back to Paige, handed the mug back to her and pulled the papers out of her hands. Paige looked into the still-empty mug and then at the empty hand that had just been holding the images of the paintings.
Back at the table, Jake pointed to the sugar on the floor, his voice excited. “Mist, do you see that?” A few other townspeople came over to look. Jake held the papers in front of him, comparing the sugar and the papers. He pointed to a mark that Hollister had just drawn in the sugar.
“Yes,” Mist said. “He draws that a lot in the dirt at the park. I've tried to work with him on other letters, but he'll only write this one.”
Jake looked again at the papers and back at the floor, a grin spreading across his face. He took a quick picture with his cell phone and then turned back toward Paige.
“Paige, I think you have more of a second story than you think.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Where's the stash we found in the mining tunnel?” Jake left Hollister retracing the mark in the spilled sugar and turned to Clive.
“It's all at the gem gallery, being inventoried.” Clive said. “The deputies needed a place with good lighting to photograph and catalog everything. And they wanted to get the packages out of the tunnel so they could seal it off before anyone else tried to enter. It's not safe in there.”
“Probably not,” Paige muttered. Still groggy from the painkillers, every statement she made was edged with humor. She twisted sideways and rested her head on the couch.
Jake and Clive exchanged grins.
“Definitely not,” Jake added. He smiled at Paige before turning back to Clive.
“What do you say we see how the inventory is going?” Jake thrust a thumb toward the hotel's front door. “I have a feeling I know exactly what's in those packages.”
Paige wrinkled her brow as she listened. She'd had a clear look at the packages before her flashlight gave out, as well as at the printed numbers on each one.
“I'm coming with you.” Paige leaned forward and made an effort to stand, in spite of disapproval from both Jake and Clive. On the first try, she lost her balance and fell back onto the couch. She ignored another round of pleading for her to rest. Her second attempt at standing was more successful. She held up both hands, refusing help when Jake extended an arm for support.
“You are not leaving me behind. I slept for ten hours, remember?” Paige took a few steps without faltering to prove she was up for a short walk. “The doctor told me to take it easy. He didn’t say I had to remain motionless. Besides, I can't just sit around and listen to everyone discussing my 'adventure' as if I'm not even here.”
“You’re my stubborn girl. I guess there’s no sense in trying to change your mind,” Jake said.
Paige warmed to the words “my” and “girl.”
The scene at the gallery was calm compared to the hotel. Paige took a seat and looked around.
The paintings all had western themes, but the subject matter varied. In some, soft landscapes picked up intricate details of the local area. The essence of the Judith Basin scenery was so real it almost seemed an observer could step into the paintings and become part of the surroundings.
Still others portrayed specific subject matter – bison, horses, wagons and campfires or Native American tribes. Some reflected Russell’s style, while others were unique. Paige knew nothing about brush strokes, color tones and other technical details, but she was sure Lambert would have insight to give.
She turned her attention to a deputy taking notes as questions began to form. “There were numbers on the packages,” she said.
“Don't worry. I've noted them as I've opened each painting,” the deputy commented. “I don't know what they represent, but I've attached the number to the inside frame of each canvas.”
“I think I know what the numbers represent,” Paige said. “Each one has a meaning.”
“
Uh oh,” Clive said. “She's starting to sound like Mist.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Paige said. “I could use a few lessons from Mist. I think she sees more than those of us who spend our lives rushing around.”
Clive was not convinced. “I’ll take this as a side effect of those pain killers,” he whispered to Jake, who nodded in agreement.
Paige ignored the men's whispers and spoke directly to the deputy. “The numbers are important.”
The deputy paused. “If you’re asking me what they mean, ma’am, I don't know. I’m just taking inventory.”
“Don't worry,” Paige said. “Just note which numbers go with which paintings. I have a feeling I can figure out the rest of it.”
Jake was beginning to catch on. “You think these are all by the same artist as the one we sent to Lambert?” Jake reached out and traced the initials at the bottom right of one of the paintings. “S. J. W. Silas Wheeler? And that ‘J’….”
“I'd like to compare the printing and numbers to...” Paige hesitated. Any mention of the diary in front of the deputy could mean losing her best means of identifying the artist. She rephrased her response. “...to something I read recently.”
“No problem,” the deputy answered. “I'll give you a list when I'm done. And I'll need you to sign a police report.”
Paige nodded and moved back to Clive's desk. Her enthusiasm was running high at the possibilities the paintings might create. But her physical strength was waning. Jake remained with the paintings, walking from one to another. Clive moved outside when his cell phone rang, to keep from disturbing the deputy's work.
Settled in Clive's chair, Paige looked around the gallery. Half of the paintings had been catalogued already and set aside. The deputy was working his way through the second half. Almost all the packages were of similar size save for one that rested on the edge of Clive's desk.
“What's this?” Paige called over to the deputy and indicated the canvas sack.
“You can look in it, if you want. I inventoried the contents before starting in on the paintings,” the deputy called to Paige while continuing his note taking. “There's nothing exciting in there. I don't know why we had such a hard time prying it out of that Manetti guy’s hands.”
I'll be the judge of what's exciting or not, Paige thought as she opened the sack. Hadn't Manetti said something about sapphires as they loaded him into the patrol car? Now, looking into the sack, she could imagine how disappointed he would have been if he'd “escaped” with his precious find. Packed tightly inside the sack were tubes of paint, brushes, a handful of writing implements and a few rags.
Clive re-entered the gallery just as Paige was repacking the bag of artist supplies.
“Well, I'll be darned. That was your other deputy at the jail, wanting to know if I'd ever talked to that Manetti guy before today.”
“Had you?” Paige, Jake and the other deputy all asked the question at the same time.
Clive looked bewildered. “No, of course not. But apparently I talked to someone else he knew. A jeweler back east.”
“What jeweler?” This time the question came from Jake.
Paige was starting to see a chain of events come together – more specifically, a long chain of misunderstandings. Paige turned to Jake to explain.
“Clive had a few phone calls before I came out here, from jewelers back east who were looking for sapphires. You know, businesses that wanted to build up their inventories before international buyers came in for the conference. Nothing that would have seemed unusual.” The whole situation was becoming clearer to Paige as she explained it.
Jake's eyes widened as he listened. He made a point of keeping his voice light as he turned toward Clive. “What did you tell these people when they called?”
“I told them the truth, that I had sapphires I could sell them,” Clive said. “It's been a slow year. Heck, I was glad to have a chance to make more sales, especially if stores wanted multiple pieces. And a few did, especially that one guy I told you about.” He directed the last comment to Paige.
“You mentioned a guy who talked on and on, seemed a little pushier than the others…” Paige said.
Clive nodded. “Yes, annoying guy, but seemed interested in buying a large amount. Didn't care if they were set or not, just wanted to know how many I could supply.”
Jake looked down, kicked a boot heel against the floor and then looked back up. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him what he wanted to know.” Clive said, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn't want to lose a sale, so I said I had a good supply.”
The deputy took a call on his radio. Paige and Jake exchanged glances. It only took a moment for Clive to realize what they were all thinking.
“OK, maybe I exaggerated a little,” Clive admitted. “That one guy seemed so eager; I played it up a bit. Told him we had our own mines out here and all that. Figured maybe I'd get all his business and he wouldn't call anyone else. But he never called back.”
“When was this again?” Paige asked.
Clive scratched his head. “Oh, a few days before you arrived, I think.”
“What was the guy's name, Clive? Do you remember?” Paige started to stand up. A pounding stab of pain in her forehead set her back down again.
“I'm sorry, I just don't remember,” Clive shrugged.
“Well, I bet I can refresh your memory.” The deputy's voice came from the front door, where he was clipping his radio back onto his belt. “That was the station. Manetti spilled the beans. He was hired to come out here, find a big stash of sapphires and deliver the goods to the guy who hired him.”
“And who was that?” Paige asked. “Did he say?”
The deputy pulled a notepad out of his pocket and flipped through it. “Looks like the guy's name was Sid.” He looked over his notes a second time. “Yes, that's it – Sid, from Manhattan. We've got a call in to the NYPD to pick him up.”
Paige closed her eyes and shook her head. “They used me as bait.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake's expression was a mix of concern and anger. Clive stood by, trying to follow.
“Sid, the jeweler who told my editor this town was a good home base for an article on sapphire mining,” Paige explained. “He must have made calls to find a lucrative supply of sapphires before telling Susan his 'suggestion' of where to send me. Then he and his cohort Manetti used me to lead them here. Figured I'd lead them to Clive's stash of sapphires – which doesn't exist, but they didn't know that.”
“Quite a comedy of errors,” the deputy quipped as he closed the notebook and headed for the door. “I've left a copy of the report and inventory on the desk back there,” he called over his shoulder. “I'll be in touch if we have more questions.”
“I'm not sure comedy is the right word for this mess,” Jake said. “The town lost a building to fire; Mist lost her livelihood; your homeless resident has been terrorized; and Paige almost lost her life – all for sapphires that never existed to begin with. I don't see much to laugh about in any of that.”
Clive collapsed into a chair and dropped his head between his hands. “What have I done?”
“You haven't done anything, Clive,” Paige said quickly. “There was no way you could have known that jeweler was fishing for information. I'll be fine; Hollister is fine; and you'll rebuild the café for Mist.”
Clive kept his head buried. “But what if...?”
A gust of wind blew the gallery door open as Mist stepped in.
“There have always been 'what ifs' and there always will be.” Mist's soothing voice joined the mix as she entered the gallery and walked over to Clive. “We gain nothing by looking at 'what if' instead of simply looking at what is.”
Paige felt relief at the sound of Mist's voice. Of all of them, Mist was the most likely to calm Clive down.
“Clive, I'm happy to work with Betty at the hotel. She needs the help. It's good for me to be there right now.” Mist placed a ha
nd on Clive's shoulder and bent forward, lowering her voice before adding, “and she's lonely.” She waited until his head lifted before she straightened up.
“And as for Hollister,” Mist continued, “We are not always who people think we are.” She turned and left to go back to the hotel.
“That might be the first thing she's ever said that I've understood,” Jake said. “Mist can explain about Hollister, but right now someone here should be resting.” He looked at Paige sternly and extended his arm to help her up. Too tired to argue, she stood and leaned against him as they walked back to the hotel.
* * * *
The quilted comforter and shams felt luxurious as Paige eased her aching body down onto the bed. Jake had returned to the gallery to help Clive and Mist check over the list the deputy had left. As curious as Paige was to look at the paintings more closely, her pain and fatigue won. There was only so much a person could manage after a night trapped in a mining tunnel. She owed it to herself to rest.
She forced herself back up one more time to check her cell phone, stepping around remnants of the mess the imposter sheriff had left behind. She hadn't checked her voicemail since the morning, when she'd put in a quick call to the office to tell them she was OK. Susan had been panic-stricken since Jake had called the night before asking if she'd heard from Paige. She'd been so relieved to find out she was safe.
The phone showed she had a new voicemail message. In spite of the comfort of the bed calling to her, she retrieved it.
Paige, OMG, I just heard what happened. Wild! I'm glad you're OK! So, you probably don't want to hear about work now. Wait, knowing you, you do. No, maybe you don't....The sound of a hair dryer muffled the next few words...Anyway, Susan has me on a hunt for Yogos. Not to go with my yoga pants either! Um ... that was a joke. Anyway, I thought I'd ask if you know where I can find some, since you're out there where they grow them ...at this point there was a delay while Brandi sputtered into laughter before continuing...You know what I mean, Paige. It's not like I THINK they grow on trees. Anyway, we’re still having trouble getting some of the jewelers to run ads unless they can get Yogos in stock before the convention. Let me know if you have any idea where I can find them. What's even WORSE is the one totally gargantuan ad I had lined up fell through. Sid's Jewelers, can you believe it? After he told us where you should go in the first place?...the hair dryer resumed, cutting off a section of the next statement... boarded up, can you EVEN believe it? GONE, just like that. Too totally bizarro, I'm telling you. Anyway, see if you can check around for me. I'm running out of time to pin the ads down and I'm getting my hair beaded tomorrow, so that cuts into my day, too. So, ciao! Oh, and feel better. Ciao! Wait, I already said that. Bye!
Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set Page 38