Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you sure we’re on the right road?” Gary demanded.
Dan laughed. “You’re just saying that because I made you turn off GPS. I’ll get us there, okay? Trust me, I can follow a map.”
“But all I can see is trees. There isn’t a house for miles, and you said we were almost there.”
Dan glanced at his phone. “If it makes you feel better, we’re coming up on the turnoff for the house.”
“What turnoff?”
He pointed ahead to the left. “There’s a house. See that? There’s a road immediately after it.”
They turned off Under Mountain Road, substituting its smooth surface for a narrower gravel-covered lane that wound through pine trees in a long curve.
“We’re going to get eaten by bears, aren’t we?” Gary murmured as they drove deeper into the woods.
Dan snorted. “The bears should be more worried. You’ve got a gun.”
They reached a fork in the road, and Dan directed them to the left. Ahead of them, they glimpsed a white building.
“How many acres did you say this place is set in?” Gary asked.
“Two hundred eighteen, mostly forest.” Dan had googled the house once they’d received confirmation that the senator would meet them there that day. From the air, the place looked pretty impressive.
Google Maps had not prepared him for that first view.
The driveway ended in a circle in front of the horseshoe-shaped house, its two wings coming forward, the main door set back beneath a rustic portico, and to the right, a long arched window with a balcony.
Gary pulled up in front of the door and switched off the engine. “How the other half lives,” he muttered.
Dan wanted to see what it was like on the inside.
The front door opened, and Mrs. Cain stood there, as elegantly dressed as she’d been in the senator’s office.
They got out of the car and walked toward her. The tightness of her expression and the stiff way she held herself led Dan to believe their presence was not welcome. When they came to a halt, she gave them a slight smile that seemed forced.
“My apologies, gentlemen. Normally the housekeeper would greet you, but all the staff are on vacation.” She indicated the door. “Please, come in.”
They followed her into a spacious entrance hall, its walls covered in dark wood panels, the hardwood floor pale with intricately patterned rugs here and there. There were two staircases leading in opposite directions, the walls adorned with mounted stags’ heads and paintings in varying styles.
Mrs. Cain paused in the middle of the hallway, frowning. “You visited my husband a week ago. Didn’t I hear you tell him you had no further questions?”
“Yes, I did, but something has come up since then.”
She gazed at Dan. “We haven’t been introduced. Are you also a detective?” Gary performed the introductions, and she blinked at the mention of Dan’s name. “I recognize that name. Weren’t you the psychic who was involved in that famous case earlier this summer? The serial killer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And what case are you working on now? My husband neglected to mention that part.”
“We’re investigating the death of Cheryl Somers,” Gary told her in a polite voice.
Mrs. Cain stilled for a moment, then squared her shoulders.
“Ah. What brought about the resurrection of her case, I wonder?” That thin smile returned.
“Anyway, my husband is in his office in the middle of a phone call. If you would kindly wait here, he’ll be with you shortly.
” A faint line creased her forehead. “I don’t appreciate having to come back here during the summer.
” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, heading for a door beneath the right-hand staircase.
When it closed, Dan glanced at Gary. “Is it me, or did she stress the word her?”
Gary chuckled. “I think you’re reading too much into it.” He gazed at their surroundings. “I wonder when this was built.”
“In 1903, Detective Mitchell.” Senator Cain stood on the left-hand staircase, dressed in jeans and a sweater.
“My great-grandparents bought it not long after it was built.” He smiled.
“Gentlemen. Welcome to my home.” He didn’t offer to shake their hands, and Dan noted the white gloves that covered them.
“And such an amazing home,” Dan commented.
“I’d give you a guided tour, but I believe you wanted to see my art collection? So maybe later. Follow me, please.”
They joined him on the stairs. “I don’t think Mrs. Cain is happy about our visit,” Dan commented in a low voice.
“She insisted on accompanying me.” The senator sighed.
“To be honest, I’m not sure why, not when all the family is at the Fluke.
She said something about wanting to check out the state of the house.
” He paused at a wide door on the second floor.
“Although I’m uncertain as to what concerns her about it. ”
Dan frowned. The senator’s explanation and Mrs. Cain’s obvious reluctance to be there didn’t match up.
“How many bedrooms does this place have?” Gary asked.
“Originally? Seven, and six baths.” Senator Cain pointed to the door. “This is my office.”
They entered a decent-sized room, furnished with a desk, chair, and several bookcases. The windows faced the front of the house. What drew Dan’s eye, however, was a pair of doors facing the window, each one an impressive five feet across. A chaise lounge sat in front of the left-hand door.
“This was originally a bedroom, the largest of the seven,” the senator informed them.
He pointed to the doors. “Then I had that wall constructed and the pocket doors installed. When I go in there, I can shut out the world.” He walked over to them and touched the right-hand door.
“Al did me proud.” He gave it a light push, and it slid effortlessly into the wall.
“Gentlemen?” He beckoned them with a crooked finger. “My collection.”
They walked into a darkened room where no daylight penetrated. The windows were hidden behind thick curtains. Then the senator flicked a switch, and spotlights burst into life, aimed at the paintings.
A great many paintings.
Dan couldn’t stop smiling.
“My father would love to see this,” he said in a low voice.
“These are stunning.” He could see paintings in various styles: Neoclassicist, Romantic, Art Nouveau, Realist, Impressionist, Expressionist, and Surrealist, and those were just the ones that stood out.
Dan pointed to a long canvas depicting a couple in twenties’ formal wear descending a staircase. “That’s beautiful.”
Senator Cain smiled. “That’s by Joseph Christian Leyendecker. I love his work.” He gestured to the paintings. “Most of these were collected by my father and grandfather, but I’ve added a couple. The Leyendecker was one of them.”
Gary nodded. “A very impressive collection. And yet I don’t see Caravaggio’s John the Baptist, another of Cheryl Somers’s copies. I didn’t see it in Boston either. So unless you’ve hung it in the pool house….”
The senator’s eyes gleamed in the spotlights. “And that is what’s brought you here? Well, Detective Mitchell, you don’t see it because it was sold.”
“We know.”
Senator Cain frowned. “Then why—”
“What we were wondering,” Dan interjected, “was if you sold the original or your copy.”
The senator’s brow smoothed. “Ah, I see. I sold both.”
Gary stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“The purchaser bought both. The original was sold at a public auction, and the copy was a private sale. Since the Caravaggio had come into my family’s possession, it had become incredibly valuable.”
“And yet you sold it?” Gary appeared confused.
Senator Cain smiled. “Ah. No, I didn’t sell it for some nefarious purpose.
A family friend was starting up a charity for the homeless.
I donated the difference between what my grandfather had paid for the painting and what it sold for.
And my donation helped provide accommodations, food, staff, jobs…
. I am listed as one of the charity’s main benefactors.
” He looked Gary in the eye. “I have scruples, Detective Mitchell. But I am curious as to why this sale should interest the police.”
“Yours isn’t the only such sale we’re looking into,” Gary explained. “And in the case of the other copy, her client definitely didn’t have scruples.”
The senator expelled a long breath. “So is your theory that Cheryl learned her client had sold her work as original and confronted them about it, and they got rid of the evidence—namely, her?”
“That’s one of our theories.”
Senator Cain nodded. “Then I wish you luck. I do understand that you have to check every lead, but where Cheryl is concerned, I can assure you, she was an honest person who simply provided a service. You cannot blame her if someone took advantage of her talent to line their pockets.” He gestured to the art room.
“Have you seen everything here that you wished to see?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Then perhaps I might give you a tour of the house, followed by tea out on the patio. It’s such a beautiful day.”
“I would like that,” Dan said with a smile.
They followed the senator down the stairs.
“This house was built in the Arts and Crafts style,” he told them as they stepped once more into the entrance hall. “When I was a child, my favorite activity was to sleep under one of the porches on summer nights. If I was fortunate, deer would come quite close to the house.”
Dark wood panels gave way to strips of pale pine as they walked through the many lounges and sitting rooms. The furniture reflected the house’s era, with antique desks and tables, even a butler’s pantry.
Loggias beckoned visitors to step outside, where the southern views were stunning to behold.
There were many windows, allowing natural light to spill into the interior, each one framed by floral curtains.
The senator took them into one of the living rooms situated at the front of the house. “I’ve changed my mind. We’ll stay indoors, I think.” He pointed to the couches. “Take a seat, and I’ll organize some tea.” His eyes twinkled. “Which means I’ll be making it. No one else is around.”