Page 116 of Burning Caine
The night I made the toast with Antonio.
But I didn’t linger on the memory.
I had work to do.
“You may not remember me, but my name is Sam. We met at Caruther’s about three weeks ago. If you recall, I’m an insurance adjuster, and I’m here on official business.” I took out my phone and hit record. “Mr. Cam-ron Parker, do you acknowledge this conversation is being recorded?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, let’s get to it.”
“What’s going on?” He spoke slowly, his eyes not fully awake yet. His mother returned with a glass of water for each of us and stood over him to smooth his hair.
“This is my colleague, Lucy Chapman.” Lucy gave a little wave. “Lucy, please open the case. Cam-ron, we don’t want to be here any longer than necessary, so here it is. You painted this copy of Chagall’sLes amoureux dans le ciel, correct?”
“It’s burned?”
“Yes, to a crisp.” I tried to smile but was likely baring my teeth. “But you can make enough out to tell that’s what it is?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. I’m sure you’re aware it’s illegal to create an exact replica of a painting done by any artist who has been dead less than seventy years and try to pass it off as an original?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Good, and you understand Marc Chagall, whose painting this is a copy of, died in 1985? Do you know when the copyright on his work expires?”
“No?”
“2055, Cam-ron. Is it 2055 yet?”
“No?”
“Do you normally create forgeries like this?”
“No!” He looked at his mother for help, but she was as nervous as he was.
“Then why did you forge this painting?”
His mouth gaped open and closed like a fish.
“Cam-ron, are you aware that any person in the state of Michigan who commits a fraudulent act is guilty of a felony punishable by imprisonment up to four years or a fine up to fifty thousand dollars, or both? My next stop will be the Brenton Police Department unless you give us the information we need to keep you out of prison.”
It was a bluff. Those were laws for insurance fraud, but he wouldn’t know any better, so I went with it.
“She offered me double my regular fee!” he blurted out, shaking. “She said it needed to be perfect! I put my mark on it, and I didn’t sign it, so it isn’t a forgery. It was a lot of money! And she paid in cash.” His mother rubbed his shoulders and consoled him, calming him.
“Who is she?” I asked, leaning forward.
“I don’t remember her name.” He looked back at his mother again. “Mom?”
“I’ll get it, sweetie.” She bustled off. His mom took care of his business, too?
“Am I going to jail?”
Time to play nice, to get his cooperation. “Not if I can help it.”
“I didn’t know it was against the law. I thought it was a code of ethics thing, you know, a recommendation?”