Framed by the Fireworks: Holiday Pet Sleuth Mysteries by M. Culler

Author:M. Culler [Culler, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery, sweet romance, pet mystery, small town romance, art heist
Publisher: M. Culler
Published: 2023-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“The police said the forensic team found waxy residue in the keyholes. I told them the painting was recovered, and technically not stolen.” Libby spoke to Jake from the pillow of her arms.

“What time did you go to bed?”

“Two. What time is it now?”

“Six.”

Did your sister call you back?”

“She sent a text at two saying she was heading to bed. I told her everything was fine. False alarm. I’m guessing the story didn’t get out. But why did the police say the painting wasn’t stolen?”

“You guys still own it. The police said that if Janice gave someone instructions to bring it to her property, thereby putting her own goods on her own property, that’s not theft—not where the painting is concerned. But removing it from my gallery by tampering with my door and security systems does count as breaking and entering, tampering with personal property, vandalism, and another half dozen things. If we can prove that Tim Lowe stole the painting, he’s in big trouble.”

“Well, we can, can’t we?” Jake puttered around behind her and started making coffee. “We found it in the place he’s renting and he has to be the one that took it. My sister was on a boat with dozens of witnesses during the time it was taken.”

“We’d have to be able to prove he was the one who used wax keys to turn off the security systems, too.”

Fox emerged slowly from Libby’s bedroom, dragging something black and covered in clouds of shed fur. She dropped it at Libby’s feet on the kitchen tile.

“Thank you, Fox. Good girl.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember how I told you Fox gets mad at me? She was mad when I kept her home the other night, and she stole my dress. This is the dress I wore the day you brought over the painting. You know, it was funny when I got my keys back from Tim, I thought my palms were sweaty. And my hands felt gritty. Gritty and slick at the same time.”

“Slick and gritty. Could that be... waxy?”

Moving slowly (due to getting very little sleep and so as not to disturb possible evidence) Libby picked up the dress and shone her phone flashlight into the pockets. “I remember I wiped my hands off inside my pockets. What do you see?”

Jake rested his head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek before examining the depths of the black pocket. “Lint?”

“Get me one of the freezer bags off the top of the fridge, will you?”

Libby put the whole dress into the bag he held out, pockets turned inside out. Tiny grains of off-white clung to the fabric. “Not lint. Wax, Jake. It must be wax from the day he came to ‘inspect the sprinklers.’” Libby shook her head as more pieces lined up. “I realized something else.”

“What?”

“Tim was never in the room when the painting was uncovered. He left before it was out of its crate to start his inspection, and then by the time he was done, the painting was back under its velvet drape.

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