Chapter 4 - Nine Red Paintings
The first painting was a 1954 landscape by American modernist Clara Winslow.
We had paid $640,000.
Evelyn's file said it came from a private Milwaukee collection through an anonymous estate representative.
Genevieve found the actual owner.
Or rather, the owner's daughter.
Margaret Doyle had stored the painting after her father's death while the estate fought over taxes.
It vanished from a climate-controlled warehouse in 2021.
Insurance paid part of the claim.
The family never recovered it.
Two years later, I bought it.
The second painting had disappeared from a senior collector's home during an estate cleanout.
The third had an export sticker from a gallery that closed before the date on the paperwork.
The fourth used the signature of an appraiser who had been dead three years.
Nine red works.
Total purchase price: $6.8 million.
I called my general counsel, Priya Desai.
She arrived at the hotel before the police finished interviewing Evelyn.
I handed her the USB.
"Do not protect me from this."
Priya looked at me over her glasses.
"I wasn't planning to."
Good.
We called the FBI Art Crime Team through counsel and notified our insurers.
The wedding guests were told the ceremony was canceled due to an urgent family matter.
No explanation yet.
Evelyn's lawyer objected to hotel security holding her luggage. Police resolved that quickly: no one searched it without consent or warrant, but Evelyn agreed to leave the bags while she went to the station voluntarily for questioning about Genevieve's assault.
Before leaving, she demanded to see me.
I refused.
Then my phone filled with messages.
THOMAS PLEASE.
GENEVIEVE IS TWISTING THIS.
I CAN EXPLAIN THE NAME.
THE ART IS NOT WHAT SHE THINKS.
I LOVE YOU.
The last one hurt.
I believed it might be true.
Love is not an alibi.
At midnight, I went to Sarah's house.
Genevieve sat on the couch with a bandage near her temple.
She looked exhausted.
Toby slept against her side.
I stood in the doorway.
"I'm sorry."
Genevieve's expression stayed flat.
"For what part?"
There were too many options.
"Start with tonight."
She nodded.
"Okay."
Not forgiveness.
Permission to continue.
I sat across from her.
"How did you find the paintings?"
"I was reviewing a Vance loan request for the museum. One label looked wrong. Then another."
"Why not tell me immediately?"
Genevieve laughed once, then winced from the stitches.
"Because the last time I told you Evelyn lied, you said I was still angry about Mom."
I closed my eyes.
I had said exactly that.
"So I needed more than suspicion."
"You found more."
"Yes."
"And Evelyn found out."
Genevieve looked at Toby.
"She found me printing the old Mercer license."
I swallowed.
"What was she trying to take?"
"Not the USB. She didn't know about it."
"Then what?"
Genevieve looked at me.
"A storage receipt."
"For where?"
"One of your hotels."
My stomach dropped.
"Which one?"
"The Vance Meridian. Basement art vault."
I stood.
That hotel was closed for renovation.
And Evelyn had supervised the temporary relocation of its entire collection.
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