Free What Evil Lurks in Monet's Pond: A by Sara M. Barton Page B

generations to come. They saw themselves as a noble group, like
the French Resistance or the Underground Railroad, and so lying
came easily to their lips. They were able to provide information
without compromising the ring leader. And they were able to
circulate rumors all over the world by just picking up the phone
and saying, “You’re not going to believe what I just heard!”
    Taking a page from that playbook, was it
possible that the heist of the Tattinger had a similar scenario?
Hermione had hamstrung her own board of directors in a similar
fashion, but with a couple of differences. This place was in the
middle of nowhere. The Gardner was in Boston. This place had few
visitors, mostly because the only paintings displayed were minor
ones. Hermione only allowed the “good paintings” to be shown four
times a year en masse and once in awhile as the centerpiece
paintings in the main courtyard, a courtyard that was damp, thanks
to the reflecting pool, and infused with light from the glass
roof.
    But as I sat there, noticing how few visitors
came through, I was struck by another thought. The museum surely
invested and reinvested the trust money it possessed, but without
income from visitors, wasn’t it losing money? The building itself
was created to house those paintings that Hermione collected. The
board of directors and the curator had to work within the confines
of that will. What if there was no money left? What if those minor
paintings were stolen because they were expendable? I considered
the missing works. Two Cassatts done as quick studies. A Gustave
Courbet nude. A Pissarro pastoral scene. Three Monets of water
lilies, but done when he was in failing health. What if one of the
goals of the thief or thieves was to force the museum to make the
necessary improvements to the building or, even more likely, to
shut it down and send the “good paintings” to a more reputable
museum, one that already had the proper security and climate
conditions? Wouldn’t that leave an empty building to sell?
    As the pieces all fell into place for me, I
thought about Nora’s plan for Cadell’s Castle. She was formulating
her plans on the assumption the museum would still be there, down
the road, when her grand opening rolled around. She had begun to
make serious plans in the last year or so, checking with town
officials on the zoning regulations and potential construction
limitations. What if someone got nervous that the plan for Cadell’s
Castle would prove successful?
     

Chapter Nine --
     
    I considered the possibilities. As Cadell’s
Castle grew more popular as an event space, it was likely to draw
more tourists to the area, encouraging other businesses to open.
Soon, this quiet little town in the middle of nowhere would blossom
into a quaint art colony, which could then piggyback onto the
nearby tourist attractions, like the Goodspeed Opera House, and the
area inns and restaurants, like the Copper Beech and the Gelston
House. Soon there would be plenty of reasons for tourists to visit,
thanks to Nora’s dream.
    Maybe that was the problem. What if someone
couldn’t afford to have the Tattinger become a successful museum?
What if it was already too late to return the missing money from
its accounts? If there was a plot afoot to bleed it dry, the
cover-up would have to include a heavy emphasis on how few visitors
came through and how unsuccessful efforts to generate positive
public relations were. Those account books would take a beating
from investigators, wouldn’t they? Too many questions about missing
money and not enough about how the money was deliberately and
willfully manipulated out of legitimate accounts and into the
pockets of the embezzler.
    At one o’clock, I decided I had spent long
enough in the glass-roofed courtyard. At least I had an idea of the
avenues I wanted to pursue for the CIA’s investigation. I didn’t
really think there was any terrorist plot to steal the paintings.
There wasn’t even an