“It is." Pix had stoutly defended what she thought of as her native clime. "Think how hot it is in Boston. I'd rather have rain, and especial y fog, any day." Maine without its occasional soft, dense gray fogs molding land and sea alike into new shapes was unthinkable.
“I'd like to go out, especial y for the sunset, and you can tel us what it's al going to look like”
Pix was a bit shamefaced. "I do feel that I should have been after Seth sooner. You might even have had the roof by now"
“Pix! No grades, remember? Did I tel you or did you tel me that life is not a final exam? Except maybe final y.
Never mind. How you can possibly think this is your fault is total y absurd. Next, you'l be taking responsibility for what the crazy Athertons did!"
“Absolutely not!"
“Absolutely not what?" It was Jil —arm in arm with Earl, Pix noted with pleasure.
“Too complicated to explain," Faith said.
“Speaking of which .. " Earl gave Jil a surprisingly piercing look.
She drew the word out, "Yes, I suppose now is as good a time as any. I do need to talk to you, Pix.”
Faith stood up. "I'l leave you to it, then, and rescue the long-suffering teenagers from my adoring progeny." She didn't real y mean it, and fortunately Jil said, "Oh you don't have to leave, Faith. It's not exactly a secret." Faith resumed her place, aware that good manners often paid off.
Jil sat down on the lawn. Earl stretched out next to her.
She was finding it hard to begin, pul ing at tufts of grass beside her until Pix began to worry seriously she'd have to reseed.
“You know I started carrying antiques at the end of last season and stocked even more this year. They've been doing very wel and I've made more money at the store than ever before."
“That's wonderful," Faith said. Pix had told her about Jil 's cupboard, not exactly Old Mother Hubbard's, and she wanted to keep the young woman's turgid flow of conversation moving.
“Not real y. You see, almost al the antiques I bought from Mitch were fakes—and these were the bulk of my stock.”
No one said anything.
“I didn't know it when I bought them, of course. I should have been suspicious, since they weren't as expensive as similar things I'd priced at other dealers', but I thought he was giving me a good deal because he liked me. Then there began to be al this talk about phony antiques after his death. I got scared. If he was involved in something, I might be charged as a receiver. And I'd sold a good many. I had to be sure what I had were fakes for sure, so I began to go up to the library in Bangor and read whatever I could. I also talked on the way up and back to some dealers, without saying why or giving my name."
“And here we were spouting off about it at the clambake." Pix was sympathetic.
“Yes. I know it was wrong. I should have told Earl in the first place, but ... wel , I just didn't. Maybe I didn't want him to know what I'd done. No, make that definitely—I didn't want him to know what a fool he had for a girlfriend.”
Earl put his arm around Jil . She didn't shrug it off and she continued speaking as she leaned toward him. "Once I was certain, I took everything from Mitch out of the store and put it al upstairs”
Faith gave Pix's hand a knowing squeeze.
“Despite Mitch's giving me a break, I was stil out a lot of money and I couldn't afford the loss. I simply didn't know what to do, so I decided to talk to Seth."
“Why Seth?" Faith asked. Earl looked a little grim.
“I've known Seth al my life and I knew I could trust him.
He was a good friend of Mitch's, plus he hears things."
Faith finished her sentence silently for her: Things an officer of the law might not.
“And I thought he might know where the fakes had come from and maybe I could get some or al of my money back. I knew Mitch couldn't be making quilts, though he probably was manufacturing the furniture and the wood carvings. Seth was furious. If Mitch hadn't already been dead, Seth would have gone after him himself. He told me he'd do a little investigating on his own"
“What did he turn up?" Faith had assumed the role of chief interrogator. It was fun—so long as you were sitting in the afternoon sun at a backyard Maine lobster fest.
“Nothing much. We both suspected Norman Osgood, the antiques dealer who was staying at Addie and Rebecca's. Seth fol owed him when he went off-island a couple of times, but al he did was go in and out of antique shops, just as he said he was. We couldn't have been more wrong." She looked at Earl, who was grinning broadly.
“Norman Osgood is an undercover agent investigating antiques fraud. He's tickled pink that you, Pix, your mother, and Samantha somehow managed to crack a ring he's been fol owing up and down the entire East Coast for a couple of years. The Athertons fortunately did not think to erase their computer files and Norman has been having a field day."
“I was right!" Faith exclaimed. "He wasn't a dealer!”
It was Jil 's turn again. "I final y told Seth I'd have to tel Earl, what with the whole island talking about us, and besides, I missed him. That's when Seth had the idea that I could sel the fakes, just not as antiques. He helped me label every piece as a reproduction—indelible ink on the quilts, marks burned into the wooden pieces. They're very good copies and I have a big sign—'Genuine Fakes, Guaranteed to Fool Your Friends.' People think it's some more Maine humor, like the sign Wal y Sanford has had outside his store for years—'Clams Dressed and Undressed.' It's true, and so is mine. I've already sold two quilts and one of the carvings since I put them out yesterday.”
Such being the joys of confession, Jil went with Earl to join the croquet game, an almost-noticeable weight lifted from her lovely shoulders.
“Is there anything left?" Faith asked.
“What do you mean?"
“Are al the loose ends tied up? Anybody not accounted for? Clues left dangling? Red herrings?”
Pix realized her friend was indeed much more adept at al this than she was.
“I think so." She leaned back against the gray shingles of the house.
She thought about her list. The columns with
"Suspects"; "Causes of Death"; "Who Benefits?"; and
“Quilts." Duncan, Seth, John, Norman—al eliminated.
Sonny Prescott had been right al along: unknown partners in crime. Except they had known them, especial y Jim.
“It's pretty clear that Valerie was not overly maternal—
or wifely. But what an actress! I can hear her now speaking about Duncan's father—he was à saint' and so forth. She wished Duncan could be more like him. Maybe Duncan was like him and she hated them both. You should have seen her horror at the sails and the bloody bats! As soon as I heard it was latex paint, I should have known it was one of them. But Jim—an Eagle Scout! And the camp, it was like his child, wife, everything al in one."
“Until he met Valerie, my dear Watson"
“Now, don't be so patronizing. Just because you want to be Holmes, I don't have to be the poor dense doctor."
“My point is, don't underestimate the power of good old sex," Faith said.
“And in this case, the seduction of good old money"
“I'm sorry about the Watson crack," Faith apologized.
Appeased, Pix said, "Jil 's cleared up the last question I had. It must have been Valerie who came in and clipped off the X from my quilt. Which just about does it, I'd say."
“They never did find the weapon that kil ed Mitch?"
“No. Earl thought it might have been the knife the kids found in Duncan's trunk, but that turned out to be a special limited edition one belonging to Bernard Cowley. The knife had never been used for anything. And now, how about dessert?"
“Yes, but it's so hard to move. I could sit here in the sun for the rest of the day. Look at the kids. They are having a bal . Fred seems very nice, and I'm sure he and Arlene wil be model parents, unlike some of the rest of us." Fred was showing Ben how to climb the apple tree.