Read Thread End: An Embroidery Mystery for Free Online Page A

say. Nothing—not even the identity of the victim—has been verified yet.”
    “But who do you think it is?” Paul asked.
    When I hesitated to answer, he added, “You know I won’t print anything without confirming it with Manu first. Whatever you tell me right now is completely off the record.”
    “The police believe it
could
be someone named Vandehey,” I said. “See? I don’t even have a first name.”
    “Do you know whether or not this Vandehey is—or was—an art history professor?” Paul asked.
    “Ted did call him Professor Vandehey.”
    He nodded. “Geoffrey—with a
G
—Vandehey.”
    “You said it was off the record!” I protested as he wrote the name down.
    “It is.” He grinned. “Right now I’m not article-writing. I’m doodle-thinking. It helps me get my thoughts in order.”
    “Who is this Geoffrey Vandehey?” Vera asked.
    “He is—or was, prior to his fall from grace—an expert in all forms of antique art,” Paul said. “I’m talking jewelry, textiles, sculptures, pottery, and, of course, paintings. His doctorate was in art history, and he taught at some university in Canada.” He frowned up at the ceiling. “I can’t for the life of me remember the name of that school.”
    “You can look it up later,” Vera said. “Get on with the story.” She softened her tone and smiled. “Please.”
    “Of course.” He smiled at me. “My gal loves a good yarn. So, our Professor Vandehey attended an art show in Seattle. While there, he met a buyer who invited Vandehey to lunch at his home. He wanted the renowned professor’s opinion on a recent purchase.”
    “The Cézanne,” I whispered.
    Paul’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not the only one knowledgeable about Professor Vandehey.”
    “You’ve been holding out on us,” Vera said.
    “No . . . truly . . . I don’t know much about the man at all,” I said, inwardly cursing myself for the slip. “I merely heard something about a professor stealing a previously undiscovered Cézanne in Seattle some years back.”
    Vera narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t contradict me.
    This time, I was the one who urged Paul to continue his story.
    “Well, you’re absolutely right, Marcy. The painting the buyer had acquired was undisputedly a Cézanne. Vandehey couldn’t bear for the painting to be hidden away by this man that he’d come to realize was terribly crass. He tried to talk the man into donating the painting to a museum, but, of course, the art buyer refused. Vandehey returned later and stole the Cézanne.”
    “Doesn’t that make him every bit as selfish as the art buyer?” Vera asked.
    “I don’t think so. Poor Vandehey gave up everything he had in order to share the painting with the world—or a small part of it,” said Paul. “The art buyer reported the theft to the police and said he strongly suspected Vandehey because the professor had tried to get him to either donate the painting to a museum or sell it to him.”
    “I wouldn’t think a professor would earn enough money to go around buying Cézannes,” Vera said. “Did he have a side job?”
    “The professor didn’t have a lot of money, which is why the buyer scoffed at his offer,” Paul said. “Anyway, Vandehey went into hiding. But before doing so, he wrote a letter to the police from his hotel saying that he was donating the painting to a facility where it could be enjoyed by more than one person.”
    “Was the painting ever recovered?” I asked.
    Paul shook his head. “And if the victim you found this morning was, in fact, Geoffrey Vandehey, then it might never be.”
    Ted came in through the back door, greeted Paul, and then told me that he and Manu were going over to the museum. “Deputies Dayton and Moore are fairly new to the department, and although we’re confident they can handle themselves, Special Agent Brown is a bit much to ask of them—or anyone, for that matter—to deal with on their own.” He turned to Paul. “Manu will be