Free Where Truth Lies by Christiane Heggan Page A

had always been outgoing. That’s how she had charmed his father.

    The waitress returned with their orders and smiled invitingly at Matt before leaving. Lucy picked up her pickle and bit into it. The gleam in her eyes had returned. “Would you like an introduction?”

    He raised a brow. “To Renée?”

    “No, silly. To Grace McKenzie. I’m sure Denise could arrange it.”

    “I don’t need anyone to arrange an introduction to a woman for me, thank you very much.”

    “Aren’t you planning to talk to her?”

    “When I do, I’ll handle my own introduction.” He chewed in silence for a moment before speaking again. “What about Steven Hatfield? I didn’t know him very well. What was he like?”

    Lucy picked up her sandwich. “Nice. Friendly. A good teacher.” She took the tomato slice out of her sandwich and laid it on the side of her plate. “He loved art, and anything that had beauty in it—flowers, antiques, the sunset.”

    “Women?”

    “Well…yes, that was a known fact.”

    “Do you have names? Anyone I could check out besides Denise?”

    “Why would you check out Denise?”

    “Because spouses and lovers are always the first suspects.”

    Lucy shook her head. “Denise would never kill anyone. Besides, she was at Baubles until seven that night.”

    “Did you see her there?”

    She hesitated. “No, but—”

    “No one else did, either. I asked. The stores on each side of the jewelry shop are closed on Mondays, and both Jay Dunn and Gloria Saunders across the street closed at five-thirty that night. They both think that the lights in Baubles were still on when they left, but they can’t swear to it. Nor do they know if Denise stayed at her shop until seven as she claims.”

    “As she claims? ” Lucy gave another shake of her blond head. “Denise may have cheated on Dad, but she would never let him go to jail for something she did.”

    “That something is first-degree murder. Punishable by death. That would put a snag on even the best of intentions.”

    “When did you turn into such a cynic?”

    Matt picked up a piece of crisp bacon that had fallen from his sandwich, and ate it. “I’m just being thorough, Luce.”

Ten
    W ell-fed and equally well-informed on the habits and eccentricities of a small town after her walking tour with Denise, Grace returned to the Hatfield Gallery, ready to work. She sat behind Steven’s large desk, palms on the leather blotter and waited a few seconds before opening the file cabinet, where, hopefully, she’d find the names and phone numbers of the people she needed to contact.
    Steven’s system of record-keeping was nothing short of pathetic. Lacking proper space, he had bulked his client files in a single cabinet without bothering to label them. Also in the cabinet were dozens of bills for a variety of services—framing, dry cleaning, wood refinishing and landscaping, all clipped together in a system only Steven could understand. Some of the bills had been paid promptly, others had needed a second and third notice. Paying bills on time had never been one of Steven’s priorities.

    Amid this mumble-jumble, Grace found a list of the paintings currently on display in the gallery, along with copies of letters to clients, proof of authenticity on the work he took on consignment, and provenance papers. Sorting everything out and identifying the paintings proved to be time-consuming and often frustrating, but she managed to put everything into some sort of order.

    At the same time, she kept searching for information on the Eduardo Arroyo painting. Eventually, she found an agreement between the Hatfield Gallery and a Philadelphia art dealer by the name of Victor Lorry. The document stated that the painting was to be displayed for a period of fifteen days, starting on October 5th. If, after that period, the painting remained unsold, the dealer would take it back.

    Puzzled, Grace reread the contract, signed by Steven and Lorry. The short