Ripped From the Pages (29 page)

Jackson walked around the bar and came over to sop up the spilled wine and pick up
the pieces of glass. When he stood, his muscled chest created a wall between Elizabeth
and the clod who had bumped into her. She didn’t mind Jackson’s closeness at all.

I took another taste of muscadet and was marveling at the speed at which the broken
glass was cleared away, when Trudy began to sway next to me.

“Oh my,” she said, pressing a hand to her head.

“Trudy, are you all right?” I asked.

Derek grabbed her arm and braced her.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel demanded, taking hold of her other arm. “Let’s go outside.”

“No. No, I’m fine.” She blinked a few times, trying to regain her equilibrium, and
then she stared at me. “Oh, Brooklyn. Oh my. I had a surprise for you.”

“You remembered?” I whispered.

“Yes.” She inhaled and let her breath out slowly, glancing around as she did so. “My
goodness. It must’ve been the broken glass. He broke a glass that day.”

“He did what?” Gabriel asked in a low voice.

“Who?” I demanded quietly. “Who broke the glass, Trudy?”

Derek closed ranks, shielding Trudy from the crowd. Gabriel remained close beside
her, and Elizabeth’s entire personality changed in a heartbeat. All of a sudden, she
looked taller, stronger, like Wonder Woman with her hands clenched into fists, ready
to do battle.

Jackson morphed into the powerful soldier he’d obviously been once upon a time. His
shoulders rose and his muscles
tightened. I seemed to be shrinking next to all of them, but I managed to maintain
a cool, calm exterior. I also imagined that Derek would laugh at me for painting that
picture of myself.

Trudy scanned the crowd for a few seconds. “Yes, there he is. He’s the one. He came
to my house to interview me. He stole my quail sculpture, and he killed Amelia.”

“Who?” I asked again.

She pointed at Josh Atherton. “Him.”

I watched Josh as he realized what was happening and his eyes turned cold.

“Annie, run!” I shouted, but it was too late.

Josh had pulled out a gun and grabbed Annie.

Someone screamed.

“I’ll kill her,” he said, his voice flat and deadly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Annie looked absolutely terrified and confused. Her fear radiated right into me. I
made eye contact with her, and she kept her gaze on me. When I glanced up at Derek,
she did, too.

Yes, keep watching Derek,
I thought, hoping she could read my mind.
He’ll get you out of this.

“Don’t do it, Josh,” Derek said, his tone composed yet urgent. “I can speak to the
sheriff. It’s not too late to work out a deal.”

I prayed that his cool, calm British accent would lull Josh into a false sense of
security. Otherwise, someone was going to get hurt. I glanced around. Gabriel had
disappeared.

“You’re lying,” Josh said angrily, clutching Annie’s arm and waving the gun. “Just
back off, let me out of here, and nobody gets hurt.”

Who was lying now?

Behind Josh and Annie, the doors swung open, and Gabriel strolled into the room behind
them. How had the man moved so quickly? He had to have snuck back into the fermentation
room and raced around to the front of the building.

“Hey y’all, what’s happening?” Gabriel said loudly. “Can I get a drink around here?”

Distracted by the newcomer, Josh whirled, dragging Annie with him.

Annie cried out, and the sound made me hurt inside. But now Josh had his back to us.

Before I could mutter, “Get him,” Derek took three strides forward and snatched the
gun from Josh’s hand.

“Hey!” Josh shouted, and twisted to grab the gun away.

Derek popped him on the forehead with the butt of the weapon, and he wobbled. Elizabeth
sprang forward and grabbed him in a light choke hold.

Annie was about to crumple and faint dead away, when Jackson jumped out and swooped
her up in his arms.

The Frenchmen began to applaud and whistle.

I glanced at Trudy, who was shaking her head in amazement. “I am surrounded by heroes,”
she said.

I looked over at Robin and started to laugh.

“I love this family,” she cried.

“Me, too,” I said fondly as I watched everyone in action. All we needed now was for
Mom to come in and shake burning sage over Josh’s head. For once I wasn’t the one
being threatened or rescued at the last possible minute, and I really preferred it
that way.

It was a phenomenal show. And other than the shattered glass
that had brought Trudy’s memory back to her, not a thing was broken or lost. Except
Josh Atherton’s freedom.

*   *   *

O
nce the cops carted Atherton off to jail and the paramedics gave Annie a clean bill
of health along with a mild sedative, Guru Bob arrived, and we gathered chairs together
in the fermentation room and listened to Trudy’s story.

“I met him at the photo exhibit,” Trudy said, clutching Guru Bob’s hand tightly. “He
was such a sweet young man, so interested in what I had to say. He had attended the
press conference and was interested in writing some more in-depth articles. He told
me he wanted to feature me. Said I was living history.” She glanced around the room
and sighed. “I think he meant I was old, but I was foolish enough to be flattered.”

“You are beautiful inside and out,” Robson said.

Trudy leaned over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, dear. I didn’t see any harm in
agreeing to an interview. He came by the house the same day I called you, Brooklyn.”

I simply nodded.

“Amelia didn’t like him at all. In this case, her instincts were correct.” She sniffled,
then said, “In any event, I left him sitting in the living room and went to help Amelia
with the tea and cookies. She was in a mood because he didn’t want tea but preferred
to have a glass of water. I can remember her muttering, calling him a heathen. She
was so funny.”

I had to marvel at Trudy’s kind impression of her curmudgeonly friend.

“A minute later,” she continued, “I returned to talk to him, and that was when I noticed
that my quail sculpture was gone.”

“Was he holding it?” I wondered aloud.

“No. He’d brought a briefcase with him, and he probably hid it in there. I didn’t
think anything of his carrying a briefcase. He’s a professional journalist after all.”
She sighed. “Perhaps he thought that with the abundant objets d’art I have in my house,
I wouldn’t notice one missing, but my quail is my pride and joy.”

“What did you say to him?” Elizabeth asked.

“I looked right at him and shook my finger. ‘What have you done with my quail?’ I
said.”

“Did he admit he’d taken it?” I asked. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t say a word. He just pulled out a gun. I believe I gasped, and that was
when Amelia walked into the room. She saw the gun and dropped the tray. Cookies went
flying, and his water glass shattered on the wood floor just as she shoved me out
of the way. The gun went off, and I hit my head. And that was it. My memory was gone.”

I looked at Derek. “I never even thought about checking for missing items after that.
If I’d noticed the quail was missing, we might’ve been able to track it down more
quickly.”

Trudy waved my comment away. “Don’t blame yourself, Brooklyn. I didn’t notice it was
gone, either. I have so much stuff in that house, he must’ve thought I’d never notice.”
She shrugged helplessly. “I suppose he was right.”

“But you did notice,” I reminded her. “You noticed right away.”

She considered that and smiled. “That’s true.” Her smile faded. “I wish I hadn’t noticed.
Amelia would still be alive if I’d kept my mouth shut.”

We were all silent for a minute. It must’ve been hard for Trudy to relive the moments
leading up to Amelia’s death, but she was handling it like a trooper. In that moment,
I felt sorry for Annie, too, who was curled up with a blanket on one of the benches
in the room.

And that was when I recalled that she’d mentioned that Josh cut short her date the
other night. That was the night Noland Garrity was attacked. Had he left Annie and
gone off to meet Noland? Had the two been in cahoots together? Probably not in the
beginning, but once they got to know each other, maybe they figured they could do
each other a favor. And what about Darlene and Shawn? Had the four of them recognized
a familiar streak of larceny in one another?

Annie was dozing, but I suspected she was listening off and on to Trudy’s story. I
glanced at my mom, who was sitting on the bench, stroking Annie’s hair. I knew she
considered Annie one of her own daughters, and I was happy that Annie had someone
in her life like my mom.

I couldn’t predict the future, exactly, but I could foresee a rollicking good cleansing
ceremony in Annie’s future.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “While the police were cleaning things up a little while
ago, I ran a quick survey of Josh Atherton’s last four years of articles. He wrote
feature stories from archaeological digs, museum events, and art gallery events from
around the world. And with each article he wrote, there was a corresponding story
in various local newspapers noting that a small item of significance was found missing
sometime after the event concluded.” She glanced down and read from her phone screen.
“‘Items missing included a shard of pottery, a book, a ring, a length of cloth, a
small bell.’”

“Tokens,” Gabriel murmured.

Elizabeth looked up. “Yes, tokens. Souvenirs. Each newspaper story mentioned that
the particular item was small and not an essential part of the event, but historically
important nonetheless.”

“Like my quail sculpture,” Trudy said.

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. “Yes, like your sculpture.”

“Why was he never caught?” I
asked.

“The items were insignificant. They wouldn’t have been missed right away.”

Annie dragged herself up to a sitting position for the first time. “Knowing Josh,
he probably arranged for someone else to look guiltier than himself.”

Mom frowned. “Why would you say that?”

Annie looked straight at me. “He was already talking about how that appraiser you
guys hired . . .”

“Noland Garrity,” I said.

“Yeah,” Annie said, nodding. “Josh told me that he saw Garrity sneaking into the storage
cave. When I asked Josh why he didn’t report the guy to the police, he said that as
an investigative journalist, he often worked undercover with the police.”

“What a crock,” Jackson muttered.

“He told me the police had asked him to keep an eye on Garrity, get to know him, and
see what made him tick. They suspected him of stealing the artwork he was hired to
appraise.”

“So Josh was setting you up to point the finger at Garrity,” I surmised. “Much later,
of course, after he and Garrity were gone and we finally discovered something missing.”

“That’s horrible,” Mom said.

I sucked in a breath and stared at Derek. “The Renoir. Did he take that, too?”

“No,” Elizabeth said.

At the same time, Jackson said, “It’s safe.”

“Yes, it is,” Derek confirmed.

I gazed from one to the other, shaking my head, then looked back to Derek. “I think
there’s a story here.”

“I found it hidden behind the false wall of the wardrobe,” Derek said to me. “It was
just the other day, when I went back to investigate further.”

“You never told me,” I said.

He took my hand and squeezed it. “We’ve had a lot going on,” he said, then glanced
at Jackson and Elizabeth. “I’d like to hear your take on it.”

“When I saw the photograph of the painting at the town hall,” Elizabeth said, “I was
sure it was the Renoir we’ve been looking for. The Nazis stole it from a wealthy family
living near Oradour-sur-Glane shortly after the massacre. I asked Jackson to get me
into the caves to study it up close.”

“And then you hid it?”

“No. I found it in the wardrobe, right where Derek found it. I have two theories.
One is that Garrity planned to steal it, but he couldn’t get it out of the cave without
Derek catching him, so he hid it in the wardrobe until he could sneak back in and
steal it for good.”

“What’s your other theory?”

“That someone in La Croix Saint-Just was a master forger. The painting in the cave
was a remarkable likeness of the original, but it was fake. I wonder if one of your
local Frenchmen tried to hide the painting so as to avoid bringing shame to his ancestor.”

“Clever,” I said. “So when the wardrobe was delivered to Frenchman’s Hill, the painting
would go with it.”

“I believe your second theory is correct,” Derek said. “And I know exactly who it
was who tried to hide the evidence of forgery.”

It had to be one of the people from Frenchman’s Hill. I knew better than to ask Derek
in front of the whole crowd, but I knew he’d tell me later. For now, I was happy to
change the subject. “So Noland Garrity was only guilty of being a total jerk and not
a crook.”

“True, gracious,” Robson said. “He is not a crook.”

“But he is a jerk,” I insisted, although I tried to say it lightly. “Why do you work
with him?”

Robson smiled. “I appreciate Noland for his ability to force me to consciously work
against negative emotions.”

I shook my head. “I failed that test.”

“It is not your test to fail, gracious. You are perfect just as you are.”

I laughed at that one and noticed Mom and Dad snickering, too. I was pretty sure Derek
was biting his tongue.

I looked at Elizabeth and said what I hadn’t been able to say before this. “So you
hunt down stolen treasures? Are you really the granddaughter of Trudy’s old friend?”

“Of course not, dear,” Trudy said. “Elizabeth is a highly trained secret agent specializing
in stolen artwork. We made up that granddaughter story so that she’d be able to slip
into town and do her work without anyone suspecting.”

I felt my mouth gaping. “Trudy?” I blinked a few times, completely bowled over. “You
knew all along?”