The Case of The Perplexed Painting

The Restaurant

"When I came to, that was when I decided to call you," I said to John Genoa, who was sitting with me at the two-person wooden table.

Teresa Cross wasn't too far away. She was sitting at the bar that was only separated from the rest of the restaurant by a  four-foot glass wall that was just tall enough to be noticed but at the same time allowed all of us to notice what was happening on the other side of it.

She was sipping a soda and listening to the wife of the head of the county jail, who was more hammered than a nail in a coffin, talk about all the dirt she had on her soon-to-be ex-husband. She sat there in a low-cut, small skirt black dress that matched the black suit with black silk pinstripes in it. I swear, everyone in the world dresses better than me.

 I was wearing nothing but blue jeans and a dark green sweater that my parents paid for, which is nothing to be ashamed of, but I swear, the moment I get a job, the first thing I'm doing is going out and getting myself some style.

Genoa pulled my attention back to our conversation. "So, do you know why they wanted the painting?"

I nodded. "The painting itself is practically worthless, but what's underneath it is worth a small fortune."

He leaned forward and stretch his forearm across the table. The back of his wrist almost touched the bottom of the glass I was drinking out of.

"Underneath the painting is almost three million dollars in old stock certificates."

"Why would he keep something worth so much underneath a painting? And why would he keep that painting above a fireplace?"

I could only think of one answer. "Uncle Merton's sense of humor, I guess. He always liked to keep valuable things in weird places where only he could find them."

Genoa agreed. "He always did have a way of hiding things." He went on to tell me a short story about how my Uncle Merton hid an important invoice in the bottom of his shredder just so he could remember to cut the company a check a week later. The private investigator then asked me, "Do you know of anyone besides yourself who would have known about what was behind the painting?"

"He probably told about half a dozen people about what was behind that painting."

"Well, six is better than six-hundred," he commented. "Do you happen to know the names of these six people?"

I took about a minute to think. I named myself first before I continued to think of the other five. "Besides me, there would be his attorney, Juan Rodriguez, his personal banker, Kalista Kalzone, the girl he's been seeing for a long time, Rebecca Backstrom, his best friend Robert Valentine, and his psychiatrist, Lucifer Angel."

He giggled when I said the final name.

I snapped at him. "Mister Genoa, I think you should know that Doctor Angel is one of the most respected psychiatrists in this whole city."

"My apologies," he said before changing the subject. "Where is the painting now?"

"In my uncle's library," I told him. "I called my uncle's housekeeper, Miss Margie Hansen, immediately after I called you. She knows about the painting too, but I don't know exactly how much she knows about it." I rubbed the back of my head to see if the bump had gone down at all before I continued talking. "She said told me it was still there, hanging just above the fireplace."

I could see the wheels in his head turning. When they stopped, he said, "I'd like to add your uncle's housekeeper to the suspect list. We can't rule her out as she did have a key to the house. Before I begin talking to anyone though, I do have to inform you that my fee is usually one-hundred dollars per hour; however, considering your uncle was a close personal friend of mine, I am willing to cut my fee in half as long as you agree that Miss Cross is able to come along with us."

I agreed and asked him, "I take it you are going to start by questioning her?"

"Is it that obvious?" Teresa Cross asked as she somehow managed to sneak up behind me.