Take My Breath Away…

Guthrie glanced at Nicola and then back at Gabe. “I’ll have to put my trust in both of you then.”

The two women and Randolph Meyer chose that moment to start toward them. Guthrie spoke in a voice only Gabe could hear. “When this is over, I’m going to ask my question again. You’d better have it figured out by then.”

BECAUSE IT WAS MUCH EASIER to think about the case than the look she’d seen in Gabe’s eyes when she’d modeled the red dress, or the unsettling conversation she’d had with her stepmother, the moment that they’d made their escape from Thorne Mansion, Nicola filled Gabe in on what she’d learned about Randolph Meyer. “If Mary Thomas or Debra Bancroft are involved in these thefts, he could have provided very useful information to them.”

“But you don’t think he’s the mastermind.”“Too young. I think that the person behind all of this has to be Dee Atherton’s old partner—someone Dee might have told about your mother’s studio and who might even have seen that statue of St. Francis you and your father worked on.”

“Not a bad thought, Curls. If my memory is correct, we were working on that statue during the time when Dee visited my father.”

“I think we ought to pay Father Mike a visit.”

At Gabe’s questioning glance, she said, “You said that one of the places you and your father spent time during that summer was at the St. Francis Center. You met Jonah and Nash and played with them while your father sat in the garden talking to Father Mike.”

“And you’re interested in what they might have talked about.”

“Yes. He might have confided in a priest, things that he might not have told even your Uncle Ben.”

Gabe dialed a number, pinned down the location of the priest, and twenty minutes later they knocked on the front door of the Franciscan monastery where Father Mike now lived. It was a huge building, Gothic in design.

“How much do you trust Father Mike?” she asked while they waited.

“He’d be right in there with Jonah and Nash, your father and you. Just what are you going to ask him?”

“Not sure yet. Just checking my parameters.”

“You have none,” Gabe said.

The door opened then and Father Mike beamed a smile at them, then led the way into a library.

The priest gestured them onto a sofa and took one of the chairs facing them. In front of him on a low table sat a crystal decanter and three glasses. “Would you care for some sherry? If you say yes, then I won’t feel guilty about having one myself.”

“Then yes,” Nicola said. “It’s been a long day.”

When he’d poured the wine and handed out the glasses, he sat back in his chair and sipped. “You said you had some questions?”

Gabe gave her an after you gesture.

“The summer before Raphael Wilder was arrested, he brought Gabe to the center to play basketball with Jonah and Nash. And he spent time with you talking. We’d like to ask about those conversations if we could. If they’re not protected by the seal of confession?”

Father Mike smiled at her. “Raphael wasn’t Catholic. So I was never his priest in that sense. What would you like to know?”

“Do you know why he decided to sculpt a statue of St. Francis in marble?” Nicola asked.

Surprise and pleasure lit the priest’s features. “I didn’t know that he had. Was it a good likeness?”

“Nearly perfect,” she said.

“He let me help him work on it.” Gabe sipped his sherry before setting the glass on the table.

“I did know that he had decided to try his talent at sculpting,” Father Mike said. “Your mother had suggested it. He was a talented painter, and she wanted him to find a new challenge. She was concerned that Denver might become a bit boring.”

“Was he worried about that, too?” Gabe asked.

“A little. But your father was a resilient man. He loved you and your mother very much. If he had regrets about leaving his old way of life, it was that he hadn’t left it sooner. I’d love to see the statue.”

“I can arrange that,” Gabe said.

Nicola studied the two men as Gabe went on to explain where they’d found the statue and that this wasn’t the first time the thief had left a forgery in place of the art he’d stolen.

“Leaving a forgery behind—your mother told me that was what your father had always done,” Father Mike said.

Nicola reached out and took Gabe’s hand. “If the thief had succeeded last night in making the switch, I think Gabe would be in jail right now. Did he ever mention a woman named Dee Atherton or Bedelia Bisset?”

Father Mike frowned thoughtfully. “You’re talking about that woman who was killed during the attempted robbery on the Denver Art museum. Your father called her Dee. She was the original reason why Raphael sought me out. He felt guilty about her death. He said he’d worked with her before, and she’d come to him twice here in Denver to ask for advice.”

Father Mike set his glass on the table. “He refused both times and explained why he couldn’t because of promises he’d made. He told her not to come again.”

“He felt guilty because he hadn’t helped her?” Gabe asked.

“Yes. She’d put him in a difficult position. If he’d helped her, he’d have broken a vow he’d made to your mother. But afterward, he couldn’t help thinking that if he’d listened and given her advice, she might not have died. And, of course, the guilt only grew when he received the note.”

“The note?” Gabe asked.

Father Mike nodded. “He received a threatening note a week after the woman was shot. It said, You’re to blame. You’ll pay. When he showed it to me, I told him to give it to the police.”

“He didn’t?” Nicola felt Gabe’s hand fist beneath hers.

Father Mike shook his head. “He refused. They’d already questioned him about the attempt on the museum. He figured that if he showed them the note, there wasn’t much chance they’d take it seriously. They might even take a harder look at him. He didn’t have much use for the police. Then nothing happened.”

“Until the Matisse was discovered in Gabe’s mother’s studio,” Nicola said.

Father Mike narrowed his eyes. “You think that’s connected to Dee Atherton’s death?”

“She does,” Gabe said. “And she’s beginning to convince me she might be right.”

“Interesting.” Father Mike said nothing for a moment as he sipped his sherry. “St. Francis works in mysterious ways.”

“How so?” Nicola prompted.

But it was Gabe he looked at when he spoke. “The real reason your father first brought you to the center was so that he could say a prayer to St. Francis. Your mother had told him about the statue’s power. His prayer was that he wouldn’t fail you or her. I’ve never believed that he did.”

“WE’LL HEAD TO YOUR place next,” Gabe said as he drove the truck away from the monastery. “You can pack what you need.” He shot her a glance. “I promised your father that I would protect you, and my place has better security.”

“I can hardly argue with that. My apartment isn’t far. Take a right at the next light.”After making the turn, Gabe said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“You did a great job of questioning Father Mike. I’d never thought to ask those questions before.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

He shot her a glance. “Looking back, I can see my faith in my father was mostly denial. I didn’t want to look too closely at what had led to his arrest because I was probably afraid of the answers.”

“You were the one who said he was framed. You’re the one who started me thinking how that fact might shift the perspective on everything about this case.”

“But I didn’t pursue trying to prove his innocence at the time. Or since.”

“You were thirteen. You’d lost your mother, but you had your father. A man who’d promised to stay with you, a man who’d only shared holidays with you so far. Then two months after he was sentenced, he was taken away also. And you’re beating up on yourself because you didn’t turn into a supersleuth and clear your dad? Instead, you kept your promise to him. You built a career, a life where you stop people from doing what he did.”

The passion in her voice had something inside of Gabe easing. She had an ability to do that for him—to smooth away hurts that he hadn’t even known were there.

“For what it’s worth, the whole time that I was compiling research on this case, I never once questioned your father’s guilt. Planting that Matisse was a perfect plan. And very cold. Most people who want revenge need for the victim of it to know. This person evidently doesn’t need that. And he or she may just get away with it again.”

“We’re not going to let that happen.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Nicola said, “Father Mike thinks the prayer-granting power of the statue is playing a key role in all of this.”

“Yeah, I got that. I’ve certainly prayed to St. Francis a few times. And I have to admit I was hoping last night that the power of the statue would help me trap the thief.”