Page 84 of Burning Caine

She laughed. “I’m assuming you’re talking about the stolen painting they found?” At least one person didn’t bring up the photo, although the implication was in her laugh.

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah, I heard. Rumor has it a couple FBI agents are arriving in Lansing next week. Rumor also says a tall woman in a blue dress and long brown hair caught it. Some sort of art claims—I mean art crimes—expert. Did you see anyone there who fit that description?”

“Nope. Not a one.” I grinned, while Lucy poked my arm. “Thanks for the info anyway, Janelle. We’ll be conducting interviews this week. If we find anything, we’ll be in touch.”

As I hung up, Lucy said, “Why does everyone know about this thing Saturday except me?”

“It’s something Antonio and I stumbled over.”

“You’re not going to tell me the details?” When I shook my head, she continued. “Alright, so if the only break-in the police have was when the Chagall wasn’t at the Scott house, are we done with the theory it was stolen?”

“Probably, but I want to double-check with Mike and Quinn first.”

Lucy initiated the call to Mike.

“Hey Mike, this is Sam and Lucy. Did you hear back from your contact at AmLife?”

“I did. Exactly what you expected. The Scotts had a Business Owners policy with them. Theft claim in 2015. My guy sent me the full details—”

“Mike, stop. Was it July 2015?”

“Yeah, I forwarded—”

I pulled the truck over as my mood plummeted. “Thanks, Mike, I appreciate you looking into it for me.”

“You owe me one!” he said as he hung up.

Shifting the truck into park, I sat back and folded my arms.

Lucy popped a bubble. “What next? Quinn?”

I nodded slowly, and she made the call.

“Good day, Sam. I just finished pulling some bad news for you.”

“Thanks, Quinn. Lucy’s with me, by the way. Would the bad news be the Scott claim in July 2015, by any chance?”

“Indeed it was. You already tracked it down?”

“It was a bit of an adventure,” said Lucy.

“How’d ya find it?”

The pride in her voice had me sitting a little taller after the disappointment. “Matt Foster to IT to Mike in claims to AmLife. With a detour talking to someone at the Brenton PD. Probably would have been easier to get it from you.”

“Like I said, you’ve got a nose, girl. So, if you already knew, why are you calling me?”

I tapped a finger on my arm. “I need your opinion. One of my running theories was about it being stolen and replaced without the Scotts knowing. We talked to the owner at Mason’s Gallery. The Chagall was there for six months last year, and I feel pretty confident it wasn’t stolen while it was there. From the results I got from the police and this Business Owners policy claim, I’m not feeling it being stolen from their house, either. What do you think? Should I drop the theft angle?”

“Depends. Question is, why are you so convinced it was stolen and replaced with a fake?”

I looked at Lucy, as though she could answer the question for me, but she shrugged. “Faith in Bobby Scott? Faith he wouldn’t have hung a forgery in his house intentionally?”

Quinn’s voice softened. “Faith in humanity is admirable, but not part of your job description, Sam.”

Chapter 33