Part 16 (1/2)
”And hid it under the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs?”
”That's what I said, isn't it?”
”Sorry, just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly. It's not every day that someone finds treasure.”
” 'Course not. That's what makes it valuable.”
”Well, that and denomination. How much money did Mack find, and where did he find it?”
”Money! Who said anything 'bout money? This was a genuine antique. Worth fortunes, too.”
”What was it?”
”A painting. A painting of Saint John the Baptist.”
”Who was the painting by?”
”Don't remember. Just know that Mack said it was worth a lot of money.”
”I used to work at a museum,” Stella spoke up. ”If you describe the painting to me, I might be able to figure out who the artist was.”
”Looked like John the Baptist.”
”Aside from that ... what was John wearing? Was there anyone else with him? Was it daytime? Nighttime?”
”Can't rightly tell you.”
”You don't remember what it looks like?”
”Never saw it.” Something crashed to the floor as Maggie continued rearranging myriad objects.
Stella turned to her husband, her mouth the shape of a tiny O.
”Toot toot,” Nick mimicked a train whistle. ”All aboard.”
”Um, I thought you said it was stored beneath the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs.”
”It was. Mack put it under the bottom step and then walled the whole thing up. Been using it as a closet for years.”
”I know this might sound silly, Maggie,” Nick asked carefully, ”but if you never saw the painting, how do you know it's missing?”
Maggie came to the doorway and stared at Nick as if he were completely daft. ”I crawled to the back of that closet, that's how. Shone a flashlight under the bottom steps, but there weren't nothing there.”
”Maybe it got moved and was elsewhere in the closet?”
”Nope.”
”Did you look?”
”Yep. Didn't see it.”
”How can you be sure you didn't see it if you don't know what the painting looks like?”
”Know it's of John the Baptist. What else do I need to know?”
”I think I'm losing it,” Nick said, scratching his head. ”That actually made sense.”
”I think what Nick was trying to say is if you've never seen the painting and you never saw Mack hide it, how can you be certain it was even under the steps in the first place? Or that it even existed?”
”Mack wouldn't have made up such a story. He spent his whole life picking through trash, and he finally got treasure. Remember it like it was yesterday. He came home grinning like a fox with his pick of the hen house. Said he'd found a treasure would take care of me long after he was gone. Told me he'd put it under the steps for safekeeping and that if he were to pa.s.s on before I did, I was to go down there and get it. When Mack died, I did exactly like he told me to, but it weren't there. If you don't believe me, go have a look for yourself.”
Given the state of the front parlor, Stella was fearful of what they might find in the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”That's okay, we believe you. We don't need to go rummaging through your bas.e.m.e.nt.”
”No, we do not,” Nick agreed. ”However, now that you mentioned searching the bas.e.m.e.nt, I can't help but wonder if maybe-just maybe-it isn't possible that Mack moved the painting and forgot to tell you?”
Maggie pursed her lips together and shook her head back and forth. ”Mack wouldn't have forgotten to tell me something like that. Not something that important.”
”I'm not saying he would, but-”
”No buts about it. That painting was here in this house 'til Allen Weston took it.”
”You mentioned Weston earlier, but I still don't understand what you mean. If the painting was here, in this house, how did he get ahold of it?”
”When Mack died, he left this place a mess. Filled from floor to rafters with junk. Weston offered to help cart some of the stuff away for free.”
”You mean this-what we're seeing right now-is clean? Wow.”
Maggie merely glared at him.
”That was nice of Allen Weston to help you clean up this place,” Stella remarked in an attempt to avert Maggie's ire. It didn't work.
”Nice? Least he could do for stealing my husband's business and putting him in an early grave!”
”What do you mean, stole the business? I thought Weston bought it. Legally.”
”Oh, he bought it, all right. He bought it for not much more than a tired old dime. Mack was sick over it. He pa.s.sed away four months later.”
”I'm sorry, Maggie. I can't imagine what you've gone through, but I don't see where Weston is to blame. If anything, most people would consider Weston's purchase a smart business move.”
”I don't. Weston was a cheat and a liar. He robbed me of my husband, and he robbed me of my treasure.”
”You say Weston stole the painting when he carted away your”-Nick gestured to the piles of objects surrounding them-”stuff. How would he have known where the painting was or that it even existed?”
”Mack probably told him. He was a good man, my Mackie, but he never could keep his mouth shut. Especially if he was down at the grill with his hunting buddies.”
”So you think Weston knew about the painting and offered his carting services as an excuse to get into your home and steal it?”