A Lasting Impression

Holbrook for permission and received a nod.
    “Claire, the lawsuit Mr. Holbrook and I have been working on all these months, and that you’ve been so faithful to pray for me about . . .”
    She got a wary look.
    “We’ve been working with investigators to track fraudulent art on behalf of a client. Several clients now, actually. We’ve been gathering evidence for an upcoming trial. But the man we’ve been looking for is Sebastian Perrault. Does that name sound at all familiar to you?”
    She shook her head.
    Sutton nodded. “The majority of forgeries in this country in the past decade can be traced back to this man and his wide net of constituents. Perrault owns several galleries, all of which are quite small, except for the Perrault Gallery in New York.”
    A puzzled look swept her face. “Wait . . .” Her gaze drifted. “Perrault Gallery . . . New York. I remember seeing that name. . . .” She turned back, her eyes brightening. “That very first night in Nashville. The directions Antoine had written down for me were written on a piece of stationery with that gallery’s name on it.”
    Sutton tried for a grateful look. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t establish a connection between the two men. Perrault does an enormous amount of business with galleries both here in the United States and abroad.”
    “How well do you know this Antoine DePaul, Miss Laurent?” Holbrook asked, watching her over tented hands. “What kind of man is he?”
    “I’ve known him since I was nine, or I thought I did. He was almost like a member of our family.” Her sigh held regret. “And like an uncle to me. He traveled a lot, more in recent years. And when he took trips, he always brought home gifts.” Her eyes narrowed, and she gave a humorless laugh. “Though, looking back . . . he always spent the most money on himself. He had a penchant for boots.” She shook her head. “Alligator was his favorite.”
    Sutton sat forward. He and Holbrook stared at each other, and slowly began to smile. Even Mrs. Holbrook, who’d been quiet throughout, straightened in her chair.
    “Fastidious dresser,” Sutton said, recalling a remark in a deposition he’d read from a witness. “And always prided himself on . . .”
    “His boots,” Holbrook finished with him. “Vanity . . . thy name is Sebastian Perrault. Or . . . Antoine DePaul.”
    Claire looked between them. “You think Antoine is . . . Perrault?”
    “I would bet my best black hat on it, Miss Laurent. Now, you said that DePaul arranged for you to stay at Broderick Shipping and Freight. I assume DePaul arrived in Nashville sometime after you?”
    Claire nodded. “He was staying with Samuel Broderick. I saw his belongings the day I returned for my locket watch. I’m assuming he’s still there.”
    “Authorities have been watching Broderick’s store for weeks now.” Sutton sighed. “No sign of the man.”
    “Then this will be of interest to you both,” Claire said, her expression tentative. “Antoine DePaul saw us at the opera the other night, Sutton, and . . . he visited Belmont yesterday.”
    Sutton nearly came out of his chair. “Perrault was at Belmont ?”
    “I was going to tell you this morning, but . . . you had already left. He came to pressure me into painting for him again. When I told him no, he threatened to expose my past to Mrs. Acklen if I didn’t give him five hundred dollars.” She leaned forward. “I had already determined to tell you and Mrs. Acklen the truth, Sutton, even before he came. I give you my word.”
    Sutton felt Holbrook watching him, waiting for his response, and he nodded. “She’s tried several times to talk to me about something, but . . . we kept getting interrupted.” He looked over at her. He wanted to add that perhaps she could have tried harder to tell him about this, but the brokenness in her eyes wouldn’t let him. “Did Antoine DePaul say anything else?”
    “When I said I didn’t have access to that kind of money, he said he would contact me within the week.”
    Sutton and Holbrook exchanged glances again, and Sutton guessed they were thinking the same thing. Sebastian Perrault would be contacting Claire again. And if Claire would help them—which her behavior now gave him every reason to believe she would—they were closer to catching Sebastian Perrault than they’d ever been before.
    Only, Claire was going to get caught in the process too.

53

    M ay I ask . . . what will happen to me?”
    With her