Shadows at the Fair (17 page)

No polish had disturbed the patina that showed its age, which was probably at least one hundred years. She wished she knew more about Asian art.

Maggie picked up the second lion and turned it over. She pulled her magnifying glass out of her pocket and checked all four feet carefully, then did the same with the first lion.

As Will watched, she replaced the lions on the table and moved the chairs back to block the booth.

“Well? I’m learning more about you every day. I didn’t realize you were so interested in Asian art.”

“Do you know which of those lions was the one Vince returned this morning?”

“No. I didn’t pay attention.” Will looked back over her shoulder at the table. “From here they look identical. Does it matter?”

“It could.” Maggie took a deep breath. “I’m going to go and have a chat with Vince.” She glanced around. “It’s pretty quiet anyway. Would you keep an eye on my booth for me?”

“No problem. But what do you need to talk with Vince about in such a hurry?”

“I just need to know where those lions were all weekend.” Maggie hesitated. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I have a hunch, and I need to check it out.”

“A hunch?”

“A hunch that the foot of one of those lions was the blunt object that killed Harry.”

Vince was getting his own coffee. A bit of his carefully coiffed hair slipped over his forehead as he bent forward and carefully added artificial sweetener to his cup.

Goodness, thought Maggie, here we’ve all been concerned about Harry’s death, and Susan’s, and we never thought to worry about Vince. There’s been no one to get his coffee for him since Friday night. She shook her head as she approached his Show Management tables. How could we all have forgotten?

“Vince, I really need to talk with you.”

There were dark lines under his eyes, and the hands holding the coffee were shaking slightly. “Of course, Maggie. I know this has been an upsetting weekend for all of us. I certainly hope it hasn’t discouraged you from continuing to participate in our spring and fall shows? In fact”—Vince patted a carton of files on the table in back of him—“I have your fall contract right here. If you’d like to sign it and put your deposit down now, it would save you the bother of having to send it in later.”

“Vince, I need to talk to you about this weekend.”

He gestured toward the carton.

“You can send me my fall contract later. I’ll sign it.”

He looked visibly relieved. Maggie wondered how many dealers had changed their minds about participating in a show during which two dealers had been murdered.

“You know the police have released Ben Allen. They’re opening questioning about both Harry’s and Susan’s deaths.”

Vince nodded and took a sip of his coffee. The knuckles on his hand holding the cup were white. “I know they say they have no proof. But they have no proof for anyone else either. Ben could have killed Harry.”

“He didn’t do it, Vince. I know he didn’t do it.”

“He’s retarded, Maggie. Sometimes those people don’t know what they’re doing.”

“And sometimes”—Maggie’s fingernails made a pattern in her palm—“sometimes they know exactly what they’re doing. And what is right and wrong. Ben knows those things.”

Vince shrugged. “Maybe. The police didn’t seem to think so yesterday.”

“That was before they found someone who’d seen Harry alive after the time Ben was supposed to have killed him. And if the murderer wasn’t Ben, chances are it was someone connected to the show. Someone who is here this afternoon. And who could be gone tonight.”

“It’s possible. But that’s the police’s job, Maggie, not yours or mine. You’re a beautiful woman, Maggie, and you should be thinking about your future, and about your prints. Not bothering about all this nasty murder business.” The words were there, but they were obviously an effort.

“You knew Harry and Susan well.”

“I know all my dealers.”

“Some you know better than others.”

Vince looked over her shoulder, speaking at her instead of to her. “They were friends of a friend. That’s how I met them. I asked them to do some of my shows.” He paused. “That was several years ago.”

“And you and Susan were lovers.”

The paper coffee cup in his hand crumbled and the remaining coffee dripped down the side of his immaculately pressed slacks.

“Half the downtown art community had slept with Susan.”

“But you’d spent a lot of time with her recently.”

“Yes.”

“Yesterday you told me Harry came to you Friday night and asked you to take care of Susan; to help her if she had any problems.”

“Yes. He did that.”

“And you told him no.”

“I don’t have time to pick up his pieces for him. She was his wife, not mine.”

“But they were getting divorced.”

“I didn’t know that until you told me, yesterday.”

“So, Harry just came up to you and said, ‘Hey, Vince, old pal, do me a favor and look after Susan?’”

“Basically, yes. He was going out of town. Sounded like an extended trip. He asked me to be available.”

Maggie thought back quickly through all the conversations she’d had with Susan, and with Joe. Neither of them had mentioned Harry’s planning a trip. “Where was he going? Who was going to take care of his business?”

“He said Susan would, and that Joe might help her. But that she was pretty sick, and they’d need help.” Vince looked at her. “Maggie, I have a pretty good idea of what it’s like when a man doesn’t want to make a commitment to a person, or to a situation.”

That was probably true.

“Harry wanted out. He was ready to travel, soon, and I don’t think he was planning to come back. And when a man’s ready to travel like that, he doesn’t usually leave a forwarding address.”

If Vince was right, then maybe neither Joe nor Susan knew Harry was leaving. And Harry had Joe’s $500,000 in his bank account for airfare.

“You knew Susan was very ill.”

“Hell, Maggie, I’m not stupid and I’m not naive. But I don’t like being lied to.” Vince’s usually calm and professional veneer had broken. His face looked pale, and then it reddened. Vince was terrified. “Susan had lost a lot of weight, and she had fainting spells. She told me she was anemic, and I figured she was a bit of a hypochondriac.” He looked at her. “Have you seen all the vitamins and stuff she took?”

Maggie nodded. Susan had fooled a lot of people.

Vince’s voice lowered, and he glanced around, making sure no one overheard. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t know she had AIDS. I’ve known people who had AIDS. In this business you can’t avoid it. I’ve gone to hospitals, and I’ve gone to funerals. Do you think I’m stupid enough to sleep with someone who has AIDS?”

Maggie reached out and put her hand on his arm. “You didn’t know?”

“How could she not have told me?” His voice weakened. “How could she have done that to someone?”

No wonder Vince was terrified.

“You didn’t—take precautions?”

“I had no reason to think she was sick. She used to joke about people who practiced safe sex. She called them paranoid cellophane collectors.”

Vince looked down at his trembling hands and reached out to pour another cup of coffee from the carafe. “She said Harry wasn’t HIV-positive, and that she wasn’t stupid. And I should trust her, and not invest in a conspiracy by the condom companies. She never told me she was HIV-positive.”

“When did you find out?”

“Harry told me. Friday night, when he asked me to take care of her. At first, I was in shock. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think was that I was going to die.”

“And then?”

“The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I wanted to kill Susan. To strangle her or pound her head into a wall. I just couldn’t think straight.”

“What did you do?”

“Everyone needed to talk with me. One dealer had a problem with his booth size. One of the detectives I’d hired to watch the fairgrounds needed to check on the status of some of the cars. Ellen Stuart over in building one had broken her glasses and needed to find an optician. I was angry, and panicked, but I didn’t have time to even think about it. There was one minor crisis after another to take care of.” Vince took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I haven’t told anyone.”

“You must have been really angry.”

“I was. But I kept doing what had to be done, and by the time I saw Susan, it was nine-twenty or so. And when I saw her, I just couldn’t say anything. I just didn’t know where to begin. We were out there.” Vince gestured toward the parking lot. “Near her van. She looked as though she was on her way to clean up before going to bed. I said Harry had told me she had AIDS and asked her why she hadn’t told me herself.”

“What did she say?”

“She said Harry had a big mouth, and that she was a person, not just a person with a disease. That it was her business whom she told. I couldn’t believe she was so selfish. I told her so.” Vince paused. “I told her she deserved to burn in hell.”

“Not a pretty scene.”

“It wasn’t a long one. Both of our voices were rising, and I didn’t want anyone to hear. I didn’t want anyone to know how stupid I’d been. Because when I saw her, Maggie, I realized that I should have known. AIDS explained all the physical problems I knew she’d had. I was angry. I was confused. I felt sorry for her. I hated her. And I felt sorry for myself. It was all a nightmare. So I just walked away. I walked around the far side of the exhibit building and just kept walking around the parking lot over on the north side where no dealers were parked. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to think.”

“When did you come back?”

“When everyone else did; when Susan started screaming.”

“Vince, did you kill Harry or Susan?”

“No! Maggie, I was angry, and that evening I hated them both—Susan for not telling me the truth, and Harry for not volunteering the information earlier. My mind was still reeling. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t have time to think. And I had the show to manage. People were depending on me. Everything was confused. I was trying to get control. And after Susan found Harry, I had to work with the police. I had to make sure the show opened on Saturday.” Vince brushed a piece of hair back from his forehead. “Maybe that was good. I was able to concentrate on something I could do. I could keep people calm; I could protect our investments in this show.”

“And Susan?”

“You were with her. I certainly didn’t want to be. I was sorry Harry was dead, but not sorry enough to be incredibly sympathetic to someone who might have killed me. Maggie, she may have given me AIDS!”

“There are treatments. Susan was on protease inhibitors. They’re supposed to delay the disease.”

“Maybe. But right now I can’t focus on anything except death. Hell, Maggie, I jog in the morning. I don’t drink much. I’ve always been careful about the way I lived. How could I have been so stupid as to have gotten involved with someone like Susan?” There were tears in Vince’s eyes; he shook his head to hide them, and Maggie pretended they weren’t there.

“You hated her; you said you wanted to kill her.”

“I did. And I meant it. But I didn’t do it, Maggie.”

Maggie looked carefully at him. She wanted very much to believe him. Vince was not known for having a caring heart, but he was known to be fair, and she’d never heard anyone accuse him of lying.

“You have to believe me, Maggie. I didn’t do it!”

“Someone did, Vince. And I need to ask you one more question.”

He nodded.

“On Friday, you had a bronze temple lion on your table. When I admired it, you said it wasn’t yours.”

“It was Susan’s. She bought a pair of them when we were in Hong Kong earlier this month. When we got home, I borrowed one to use as an illustration in my pamphlet for next year’s tour. Susan said that was fine, as long as she could have it back for this show. She knew someone who was coming in who collected temple lions.” Vince paused. “The photographer I usually use in New York had been sick for the past two weeks, so I asked the cameraman for the local antiques paper if he’d do a fast shoot for me. I told Susan I’d give it back to her before the show Friday, but the photographer was late. He didn’t arrive until after the show started. Susan was furious. We had an argument about it before the show opened.”

The argument Maggie had heard late Friday afternoon.

“I wanted to return it to her Friday night. In fact, I went and got it before I went for my walk. I didn’t want to have anything more to do with anything of hers. I couldn’t find her, so I left it just outside her van door. It was dark enough, and her van was far away from other people’s, so I figured it would be safe, and she’d see it when she got back.”

“Did she?”

“I guess she didn’t get back to her van then. Anyway, later, after the detectives were here, I was walking around, checking on things, and I saw it there. It’s a pretty valuable piece, and I knew then that Susan was with you and Will—remember?”

Maggie nodded. That was only about thirty-eight hours ago. It seemed a century.

“So I picked it up and stuck it in my van for safekeeping.”

“Why didn’t you give it back to Susan yesterday?”

“I forgot. And Susan didn’t remind me. Although, except for bringing her some orange juice in the morning, I didn’t go out of my way to see her.”

Vince ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it upward in a sort of tall Mohawk. “What a weekend. Harry murdered, Susan dead. I may have AIDS. Detectives all over the place. Reporters are beginning to interview dealers. This is my premier show, Maggie. I can’t believe this is all happening. And I guess I’m sorry about Harry and Susan—but I can’t say I’m crying over them.” He looked straight at her. “Please, don’t tell anyone I was so stupid. Don’t tell them about Susan.”

“Vince, I’m not going to blab. But half the people at this show know now that Susan had AIDS, and a fairly high percentage of those people know you were sleeping with her.” But most of them, Maggie thought, will assume that as two intelligent adults they were having safe sex.

Vince was with Harry and with Susan just before Harry’s death, and he had argued with them both. If Maggie was right, and the temple lion was the weapon that killed Harry, then Vince was the only one who knew where it was. And he certainly had a motive.