Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
GABE – FRIDAY AFTERNOON
“This is nice,” Gabe said, setting his half of Alfred down and taking in their surroundings. “Do you think we could afford something like this?”
It was close to Greta and Abby. And, he thought, also to Casey’s brother.
Casey coughed. “On a ranger’s salary?”
Gabe noted that Casey didn’t scoff at the we, just the budget.
The house was gorgeous, and Gabe had no trouble imagining living in a place like this—with Casey. They could have friends and family over easily enough, and there were plenty of rooms to give themselves space when they each needed alone time.
“I have money.” Actually, Gabe still had quite a bit of money sort of lying around. Why not buy a home where he and Casey would be happy living together? “We might as well put it to good use. Come on.” He smirked across the top of Alfred. “I could be your sugar daddy.”
Gabe knew he should be exhausted, having gotten no sleep the night before, but he was officially wired.
After a shower, coffee, and that energizing session of Casey checking to make sure Gabe was really okay, he was ready for the rest of the day.
And that included Claribel, Shay, Elton, and the rest of the crew who had been invited for brunch, or whatever this was.
“Bring that thing into the kitchen!” Claribel shouted.
Gabe rolled his eyes while Casey coughed and frowned, clearly trying to think of a response.
“You know there’s nothing you can say except yes.”
“Can we just get this into the kitchen and hash out living arrangement details later?”
“Only if it involves sexual favors from me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Casey whispered, his cheeks red.
They’d brought the chair along with them because if Alfred the Ugly was hiding a secret, Elton would be disappointed if he wasn’t there when they discovered it. If Alfred wasn’t hiding anything, the next stop was the building where the 201 Gallery had been housed.
Gabe hoped it didn’t come to that. He wasn’t looking forward to crawling around potentially spider-infested forgotten passageways between old buildings in Westfort.
They set Alfred down in the middle of the kitchen floor. “If I was a seventeen-year-old looking to hide purloined artwork, and this thing was all that was handy, where would I put it?”
“Do we want to know why this chair was handy?” asked Shay.
“We do not. That is called a detour. Maybe Heidi worked in an antique store? There still are a bunch of them along Water Street, even one next to Windward Kite Shop, maybe that’s where the secret door led from.”
“We’ve looked in the obvious places.” Casey glared at Gabe. “Don’t say it.”
“Fine, I won’t, but we clearly need to look in inconspicuous places.”
Claribel stood from the table and moved over to stand by Gabe. “This thing is one of those gentleman’s surprise chairs. They’re worth quite a bit.”
“Maybe she sold the artwork, and the money is in the chair?” That was Elton.
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s here, in the single ugliest piece of furniture I’ve seen.
Alternatively, it’s still where Carla Pritchard hid it, and Holly-slash-Heidi found it but left it there.
I don’t think Heidi would have made sure Alfred came to me if that were the case.
This chair is not her style. The art being in here makes more sense. ”
“What are you waiting for?” Shay asked.
“Fine,” sighed Gabe. “Let’s do this.”
Slowly, meticulously, Gabe and Casey began to search Alfred again. Gabe dragged his fingertips along the chair arms, legs, and back, seeking a hidden seam. A place that opened but wasn’t obvious.
“This chair was made for secrets,” he complained after not finding a fucking thing. “Maybe it is Heidi’s style, after all.”
“Let’s turn it over,” Casey suggested.
Carefully, they turned the chair upside down so that it was balanced by the edge of the seat and the ornate, throne-like back.
“Elton, would you come steady this?” Gabe asked.
With Elton making sure the chair wouldn’t tip over, he and Casey went back to work.
Gabe found the palpable tension in the room a bit amusing.
Claribel hadn’t stopped biting her fingernail since they started and Shay hovered on the perimeter like a referee.
Even Paul had returned to the living area to watch the action while Etienne kept an eye on the croissants he’d popped in the oven.
The underneath part of the chair seemed to have nothing unusual, not that Gabe could find anyway.
“What if Heidi made her own secret compartment?” Elton asked. “What if it’s not original to the chair? Have you tried checking where the leather is sewn into the bottom of the seat?”
Gabe dragged his fingers along the seat bottom. It was held in place by staples, but they moved under his touch along one side. Not much, but more than one would expect.
“I need pliers or something,” Gabe said, patting himself down as if he’d find them in his back pocket.
Elton held out his pocketknife. “Use this.”
Kneeling, Gabe forced the tip of the blade under one staple, then another and another until they were all out. The protective fabric still adhered to the wood. Gabe peeled it away and dropped it to the floor.
Everyone spoke at once. “What do you see?” “What’s there?” “Is there anything?”
Gabe hushed them all. “Gimme a chance here.”
Casey stood back while Gabe pinched the edge of the fabric and pulled it away.
“I need a flashlight.”
Shay handed him a phone, the light already turned on. Accepting it, Gabe shone it into the cavity. Another piece of fabric was tucked inside. He pulled it out, revealing three cardboard tubes, each about eighteen inches long.
“Holy shit.”
Prying the lid off one tube, Gabe turned it upside down and shook it.
When nothing slid out, he stuck a finger inside and carefully eased out a single canvas.
With shaking hands, he rolled the canvas out just enough to see what it was.
Gabe hadn’t heard of Martin Crevan and didn’t know how to identify art in general, but this was a landscape like the article had described.
It was beautiful, and the artist’s signature was in the corner.
“No way.” Gabe sat back on his heels and stared at Casey and Elton. “No fucking way.”
“Now what do we do?” Casey asked.
It was Shay who answered. “You call your friendly family lawyer, or if he’s in the area, handing him a dollar retainer will do.”
Gabe pulled out his wallet; all he had was a fiver. He held it out to his half brother, “I suppose you don’t have change.”
Shay carefully tucked the bill into his wallet. “I’ll be in the other room calling a friend of a friend.” He whistled as he walked away.
“I’m not sure I want to know who Shay’s friends are,” muttered Gabe.
“Best not to ask,” agreed Claribel with a doting smile.
Casey made a displeased grumble sound and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the screen.
“It’s Mickie again. I never got back to him.”
“And who is this Mickie person?” Claribel asked. “Not a hookup, I hope. I’ve been planning Gabriel’s wedding. I’d like to see all my boys happy and settled.”
Before Casey literally forgot to breathe or Claribel started speculating out loud about throuples—fine, Gabe had no issue with throuples, but three just wasn’t his magic number—Gabe said, “Not a hookup, Casey’s brother, Mickie.”
“Brother! Why didn’t you say so? Invite him over. We’ll have plenty of food for everyone. Shay called the pizza place and put in an order before you got here.” She smiled at Etienne, who had brought in a platter of croissants. “And these will tide us all over till they arrive.”
Gabe glanced at Casey. “I’m not sure Mickie is ready for prime time.”
Casey stared back at him, then looked down at his screen again. Shaking his head, he typed something and pressed Send.
“I guess we’ll find out.”