Four-Patch of Trouble (18 page)

"Thank you." I ran my hand over the suspect fabric, instantly confirming that it was a reproduction. Old fabric just felt different. Plus, my touch released a faint whiff of the chemicals used in the modern dyeing process. Any chemical odor residue would have dissipated from a quilt that was more than a few years old.

I had to wonder if I'd been premature in declaring that Stefan's quilt was definitely from the late 1800s. It looked like someone was making unauthorized reproductions, possibly from the museum's quilt. If Stefan's quilt was a reproduction, its maker could have simply chosen more appropriate colors than whoever made the quilt that Martha McDowell had purchased and washed them more thoroughly to remove the chemical odors and give the fabric an older, more brittle feel.

From over my shoulder, Matt said, "Is it my imagination, or does that look a lot like the quilt in Stefan's gallery?"

"It's virtually identical in design and layout. Too much so to be a coincidence."

Matt dug his phone out of one of his pants pockets and glanced at Martha. "Mind if I take a picture?"

"Go ahead," she said.

While Matt took his pictures, I asked Martha, "Why did you keep the quilt once you knew it was a fake?"

"I almost took it down and threw it away, but I'm glad I didn't," Martha said. "Now I look at it every morning when I come in and every night before I leave. I know it's a little perverse of me, but it's a good reminder not to rely on anything that's not in writing. Tremain must have assured me a dozen times that he guaranteed the provenance. He never put it in writing though, and when I confronted him with the appraisal, he had sudden amnesia. Swore he'd made it clear it was an 'as is' sale. Even showed me that's what the bill of sale says in the fine print at the bottom. I still can't believe what a fool I was."

"He was a good liar," Matt said. "You weren't the only one who trusted him."

"I did hear that Tremain hooked a bigger fish than me," Martha said. "It was just scuttlebutt, and I couldn't even tell you where I heard it, but the rumor is that someone with major political connections was scammed by Tremain too but was too embarrassed to report it. It's a little ironic if that's true, because I met Tremain through a political fundraising event he'd sponsored. It's part of why I trusted him. I figured if he had that kind of money and influence, he'd never risk it all on a single transaction that was pretty small compared to the money flowing at those fundraisers. Now I think he was robbing Peter to pay Paul, except that Peter and Paul were the same person. First he made a big donation to a politician's campaign, and then he scammed an even larger amount from the politician by selling him a fake quilt."

If that was true, it would explain why someone was so desperate to quash the fraud investigation, even going so far as to hire a thug to threaten me. "Any idea who the politician is?"

"No. I can't even remember who mentioned it. It may not even be true. People like to think the worst of politicians," Martha said. "All I know is that from now on, I'm going to stick to collecting things I know more about. And even then, I'll follow my own advice and get them appraised before I buy."

"If more people did that, it would put both the con artists and a lot of attorneys out of business." I dug into my bag for one of my new cards identifying me as a quilt appraiser and handed it to Martha. "On the plus side, it would be great for my new business."

*   *   *

"It looks like you've got the evidence Stefan never found," Matt said as he started the truck. "Martha's quilt proves that Tremain was copying Stefan's legitimate antiques."

"Don't get your hopes up yet. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't write about it or even mention it to Stefan until I'm sure. I'll need to compare the pictures of the two quilts, block by block."

"So where do we go from here?"

"I need to talk to Dee and Emma about my speech tomorrow, if you wouldn't mind dropping me off at the school."

Matt put the car in gear and headed out of the parking lot. "I meant, what's the next step in proving that Tremain was selling fakes?"

"Appraisals are always a bit more of an art than a science, but if I can reach a definite conclusion, my expert testimony would be admissible in court."

"What about Tremain's link to politicians?" Matt said. "Can you testify to that?"

"Hearsay is inadmissible. Even Martha couldn't testify to it. She said herself it was just a rumor."

"Good thing I don't have to worry about rules of evidence."

"Just defamation lawsuits."

"All part of the job." He looked remarkably unconcerned. "It might be worth spending a little time in my lawyer's office if I can uncover a link between fraudulent art and a politician."

"Good luck."

"Aren't you going to help?" Matt said. "I've been sharing my sources with you."

"Finding out who was in Tremain's pocket is not high on my priority list," I said. "I'm more concerned with keeping the prosecutor from moving against Dee and Emma before Monday. They're refusing to go see a criminal lawyer until the quilt show is over, so I'm trying to make sure Wolfe and the police have enough other leads to pursue that they won't settle for the easiest suspects."

"Wouldn't it be nice to add one more suspect? A powerful politician who'd been protecting Tremain?"

"All we know is that Tremain liked to mingle with powerful people. We can't prove any of them were scammed or that they were working behind the scenes to protect Tremain. It's just as likely that Tremain was never prosecuted simply because fraud is difficult to prove in court. Besides, a politician powerful enough to sway the prosecutor's office wouldn't have needed to kill Tremain to make him pay for what he'd done."

"You're taking all the fun out of a great conspiracy theory."

Even when he was whining, he managed to amuse me. "That's me. Dedicated puncturer of fantasies."

I was distracted by the sight of the electronic sign in front of the school. Underneath the dates of the quilt show was my name as the keynote speaker. I really needed to get my speech written. "In any event, proving Tremain's ties to a politician might make things worse for Dee and Emma. The politician could start pressuring the prosecutor's office to make an arrest to keep the spotlight off him."

"I'd never do anything to hurt Dee and Emma," Matt said, "but I'd still like to know if the rumor is true. I'll keep my snooping low-key, though."

"Lindsay is compiling a list of Tremain's special customers, and I'll let you know if any of them are politicians. Just don't make any waves. Wolfe is under enough pressure already, and we don't want him taking the easy way out by charging his first suspects."

"Somehow," Matt said, "I can't really feel sorry for the prosecutor's problems. Your friend Wolfe should have done his job all along, even when it wasn't easy.
Especially
when it wasn't easy. I do. I bet you do too."

"My job is easy." Or it would be, once I wrote my speech, got through the quilt show without passing out, and handed Dee and Emma off to an experienced criminal-defense lawyer.

Matt dropped me off at the school, and this time the guard let me right in. Dee was on her throne again, the parade of bins had expanded to encircle the entire stage, and Emma was deep in conversation with a middle-aged woman with clown-red hair and a purple quilted vest.

I made my way through the ordered chaos to join Dee. "How are the preparations coming along?"

"It's hard to tell at this point," Dee said. "Every year we think we've anticipated every possible problem, but we always miss something. We'll know when it's time to open the doors. Either everything will be ready or heads will roll."

I hoped the heads were only metaphorical. "Do you have a minute to spare for me?"

"Of course," Dee said. "Unless you're going to lecture me again about hiring an attorney."

"No lectures today. In fact, that's my problem. I'm having trouble with the keynote speech. All my drafts are coming out like the dullest of academic lectures."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine. If there are any hecklers, Emma will take care of them."

"Hecklers?" I hadn't thought about that possibility. No one heckled an attorney giving an opening statement in a courtroom, under pain of being thrown into jail for contempt. I'd been assuming that an audience of quilters and antique dealers would be naturally polite, although I should have known better. Tremain had been a member of the quilting community, after all, and he wouldn't have had any qualms about throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of my lecture if it was as boring as it promised to be. "You really expect to have hecklers in the audience?"

"Not really. But quilters are as diverse as any other group. There are always a few bad apples." My anxiety must have been visible on my face, because Dee continued, "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just talk about whatever you love about quilts. That's what everybody's here for, to mingle with other people who understand what it's like to appreciate quilts and fabrics and color and design."

Emma came over to consult with Dee. "The woman who's taking over Tremain's booth got here finally. I just went over the ground rules with her, and she's all set."

"That reminds me," I said. "How did Tremain get a booth here in the first place? He's only been in business a couple years, and it should have taken longer than that to get to the top of the waiting list."

Dee and Emma shared an irritated look before Dee answered. "I had the same question when I found out about it a couple of weeks ago. The chair of the vendors committee told Emma they were pressured into it by the museum."

I distinctly recalled Gil saying she had no idea how the vendors' booths were assigned, that it was left to the quilt guild's discretion. "Gil Torres asked the guild to give Tremain a space?"

Dee looked at Emma, who shrugged. "I don't know who asked, but it was someone from the museum."

"Why on earth would they care about Tremain participating in the show?"

"I don't know," Emma said. "I was just told that someone said if Tremain didn't get a booth, we were going to lose the sponsor. We had a couple of openings this year, and we weren't tossing out one of our prior vendors, so the committee didn't think anyone would complain. Of course, at the time, none of us knew he was selling fake quilts. The museum couldn't have known either."

Perhaps Tremain had simply asked for a reference from Gil and then had made it out to seem like more than it was. If Gil had written Tremain even the vaguest of references, she might have been reluctant to volunteer that information now, since it wouldn't reflect well on the museum in the wake of Tremain's murder and the revelations about his fraudulent activity. Not that there was anything connecting Gil to Tremain's murder.

Wait. I knew better than to dismiss any possibility, no matter how remote. Gil wasn't a particularly likely suspect, but she had a motive if she'd bought one of Tremain's fake quilts for the museum. Unlike Dee, Gil was big and strong enough to have committed the murder. Tremain outweighed Gil by a couple of hundred pounds, but his weight was more likely to have hampered him, making him weak and clumsy, than to have been useful in defending himself. Still, I just couldn't picture Gil attacking Tremain, even if I mentally dressed Gil in a Valkyrie costume straight out of an operatic battle scene and had her singing something like the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." If I couldn't imagine her as a killer, I'd never be able to convince Wolfe to consider the possibility.

As if thinking about the prosecutor had conjured him, Wolfe came through the curtains at the side of the stage, flanked by Bud Ohlsen and Richie Faria. Wolfe looked smug and was radiating excitement.

I got to my feet and moved to stand between Dee and the approaching men.

Bud Ohlsen nodded at me. "Counselor."

"Detective. Did you have some more questions for me?"

"We're done with questions." Unlike the others in his group, he looked solemn and resigned rather than triumphant.

"Do you really have to do this right now, right here?"

"I'm afraid so." At least Ohlsen didn't seem happy about it, even as young Richie Faria looked like he couldn't wait to use his handcuffs for the first time ever.

Behind me, Emma stood beside Dee's throne, one hand on the older woman's frail shoulder, as if getting a good hold in preparation for a tug of war with the police to prevent Dee from being taken into custody.

"Don't worry," I told the women. "I'll call my office and arrange for a criminal lawyer to meet you at the station. Don't say anything until he gets there."

"Are you done?" Ohlsen said wearily.

"For now. You know this is completely wrong. Dee had nothing to do with Tremain's murder."

"I do know that. We're arresting Emma Quinn for the murder of Randall J. Tremain III."

Dee gasped and grabbed Emma's hand. "No. She was with me when he was killed. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

Ohlsen shook his head with what appeared to be legitimate regret. "Sorry, ma'am, but we can't do that. We have an arrest warrant for Emma Quinn, and that's who we're taking in."

Dee got to her feet with obvious difficulty. "Over my dead body."

Emma patted Dee's hand and gently unclasped Dee's grip on her. "It's all right. I'm sure it's a mistake and Keely will get it straightened out in no time. It wouldn't do either of us any good for you to get arrested for assaulting a police officer. The quilt show needs you while I'm gone. I'll be back before you know it."

Dee drooped back into her seat, looking small and helpless on the throne that had lost its grandeur when she'd lost her confidence. After a moment, she straightened her spine. "You're right. The show must go on. I'll take care of everything until you're released. I expect you'll be here for setup tomorrow morning."

Emma gave Dee a forced smile. "You know I wouldn't miss that for anything."

*   *   *

I caught a glimpse of panic in Emma's eyes when she turned to leave with the police and Wolfe. Before she was out of sight, I was on the phone to my office, arranging for a criminal lawyer to meet her at the station. Next up was a call to Lindsay so she could come stay with her grandmother.