Summer in Eclipse Bay (Eclipse Bay #3)

Arizona snorted. "Wastin' your time, Valentine. This has the fingerprints of that bunch up at the institute all over it, I tell you."

Sean flipped his notebook shut. "One thing's for certain, Eclipse Bay isn't exactly crawling with experienced, high-end art thieves, and we don't have what you'd call a big market for stolen art, either. Whoever snatched the painting has probably already taken off for Portland or Seattle to try to unload it."

"True." Octavia slouched against the counter, looking very unhappy. "It would be the logical thing to do."

"Our best hope is that the guy trips himself up when he goes to sell the Upsall," Sean continued. "I'll call some people I know in the Seattle and Portland police departments and tell them to keep a lookout for our missing picture."

"That's an excellent idea." Octavia brightened. "I'll contact a few friends in the art world, too, and make them aware that there's a previously unknown Upsall floating around."

"Good thought," Sean said. He started toward the door. "I think that's about all for now. I'll check back later."

"All right," Octavia said. "Thanks, Sean."

"Sure. See you, folks."

A short chorus of goodbyes followed Sean out onto the sidewalk. So did Nick.

They walked together toward Sean's vehicle.

"Something I can do for you, Harte?" Sean asked mildly.

"Just wanted to ask what you think really happened to that painting."

Sean opened the door on the driver's side and paused. "You want my best guess?"

"That would probably be the most helpful under the circumstances, yeah."

"Past experience tells me that whoever stole the painting was probably closely connected to the situation. He knew the picture was valuable, he knew where it was stored, and he knew how to disarm the security system."

"Which means he had access to the code and a key."

"As you just pointed out, how hard would that be? Might not have even needed the key and code. That system the Willis brothers installed for Octavia is good enough for Eclipse Bay, but it isn't exactly state-of-the-art." Sean looked at the window of Bright Visions. "Wouldn't take a rocket scientist to disarm it, especially in the middle of the night during a major storm when no one was around."

Nick followed his gaze and shook his head in a flat negative. "Not A.Z. or Virgil."

"No. Although I gotta tell you that in this situation, any out-of-town cop would be looking real hard at both of 'em. They both have motive. Why split the profits from the painting three ways when you can have the whole pie?"

Nick shrugged. "Guess I'd have to agree that to an outsider they'd both look a little mysterious."

"Try damned suspicious. No one knows anything about either of them before they arrived in Eclipse Bay. I got curious a couple of years ago and did some digging, myself."

Nick looked at him. "Learn anything?"

"Zilch. It's like neither one of them existed before they came to this town."

"For what it's worth, there are some old rumors about them," Nick said. "My grandfather told me once that he thinks Nash may have done some government intelligence work at one time, which could explain why his past has been wiped out of the records. And most folks assume that A.Z. assumed a new identity somewhere along the way because she's so deep into her conspiracy theories. But neither of them are thieves. Rock-solid, upstanding citizens in their own weird ways."

"I'm inclined to agree."

"That leaves Photon and his happy little crew of bakers."

"Yeah. And between you and me, that bunch is right at the top of my very short list." Sean got behind the wheel and closed the door. He squinted a little against the morning sun. "I'm going to run some background checks on some of those Heralds. But keep that to yourself. I want to handle it quietly. If word gets out that the group is under suspicion, some of the locals might turn on 'em real fast."

"I know. There are still a few folks around who think they're running some kind of cult out of that bakery."

"Think I'll also track down Noreen Perkins and her new boyfriend and ask them a few questions, too."

"Why? They aren't even in town any longer."

"Just being thorough."

"Right. Catch you later."

Sean put the SUV in gear and rolled off down the street.

Nick went back into Bright Visions. He stopped just inside. Octavia, Arizona, Virgil, and Carson were all looking at him with expectant expressions.

He surveyed the ring of interested faces. "Did I miss something?"

Carson could scarcely contain himself. "Wait'll you hear A.Z.'s really cool idea, Dad."

Nick managed, just barely, not to groan aloud. He caught Octavia's attention, expecting a little understanding, maybe even some sympathy in spite of the tension between them. After all, everyone knew that any really cool idea that had been concocted by Arizona Snow was an accident waiting to happen.

But Octavia's expression reflected zero commiseration. Whatever this really cool idea was, it was getting serious consideration from her.

In desperation, Nick turned to Virgil.

"Nothing to lose," Virgil said, stroking his goatee.

"Only chance we've got and that's a fact," Arizona stated with satisfaction.

Nick surveyed each of them in turn. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

Octavia cleared her throat. "Virgil's right. It probably won't work, but it's not like we have anything to lose. I say we go for it."

"Yeah!" Carson cheered.

"What, exactly, are you all planning to go for?" Nick asked warily.

"What we need here is a professional private investigator," Arizona announced. "Got to be someone we can trust. The future of Project Log Book may be riding on this."

"You're going to hire a private investigator?" Nick chuckled. "Good luck. I don't think we've got any of those in Eclipse Bay."

Arizona looked crafty. "Got one."

"Is that right?" Nick raised his brows. "Who?"

"Quit teasing, Dad." Carson bounced a little. "A.Z. means you."

"Yep." Arizona rocked on her boot-shod heels. "Far as I can tell, you're the closest we've got to the real thing here in Eclipse Bay."

Chapter 10

"Are you all crazy?" Nick planted both hands on the counter and leaned across it. His tone was low, but his jaw was granite. "I write novels about a private eye. Such books are called fiction. Do you know what fiction means? It means it is not real."