Hemlock Bay

The real one is back in my possession so there won’t be any chance to switch it.”
    Simon said, “Actually, I’m surprised you’re still here in residence since the paintings have flown the coop. They’re hoping they’ll get them back? No chance.
    “To be honest, Abe, the real reason we’re here is that we want to know who commissioned you. Not the collector, but the local people who are paying you and keeping you here.”
    “Yes,” Lily said. “Please, Mr. Turkle, tell us who set this up.”
    Abe Turkle gave a big sigh. He looked at Lily and his fierce expression softened, just a bit. “Little gal, why don’t you marry me and then I could look at those paintings for the rest of my life. I swear I’d never forge anything again.”
    “I’m sorry, but I’m still married to Tennyson Frasier.”
    “Not for long. I heard all about how you just walked out on him.”
    “That’s right. But even so, the paintings belong in a museum, Mr. Turkle, not in a private collection somewhere, locked away, to be enjoyed by only one person.”
    “They’re the ones with all the money. They call the shots.”
    Simon said, “Abe, she’s divorcing Tennyson. She wants to fry that bastard’s butt, not yours. You’d do yourself a favor if you helped us.”
    Abe said slowly, one eyebrow arched up a good inch, “You’ve got to be joking, boyo.”
    Lily stepped forward and laid her hand on Abe Turkle’s massive shoulder. “We’re not joking. You could be in danger. Listen, Tennyson tried to kill me, and I wondered, Why now? Do you know? Did something happen to make him realize that I was a threat to him, before you’d finished copying all the paintings? Please, Mr. Turkle, tell us who hired you to copy my paintings. We’ll help you stay safe.”
    “That really so? Your old man tried to kill you? I’m sorry about that, but I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Both of you need to just get out of here now.”
    He was standing with his legs spread, his big arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sorry you were almost killed, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
    “We know,” Simon said, “that this cottage is owned by the Frasiers. You’re staying here. It isn’t a stretch to figure it out.”
    “I don’t have anything to say about that. Maybe when this is over, the little gal will share some lunch with me, I’ll marinate up some snails, then broil them. That’s the best, you know.”
    Lily shook her head, then walked to the easel. Abe didn’t get in her way, didn’t try to block her. She stopped and sucked in her breath. On the easel was a magnificent painting nearly finished—it was Diego Velázquez’s Toilet of Venus, oil on canvas.
    “It’s incredible. Please, Mr. Turkle, don’t let some collector take the original. Please.”
    Abe shrugged. “I’m just painting that for the fun of it. I’m in between jobs right now. No, you don’t want to say that it’s because you took all the Sarah Elliott paintings away from the museum. Nah, don’t say that. There’s nothing going on here so I’m just having me some fun.”
    Simon came around and looked at the nearly completed painting. “The original is in the National Gallery in London. I hope your compatriots elect to leave it there, Abe.”
    “Like I said, this is just for fun. A guy’s got to keep practicing, you know what I mean? Look, I painted this from a series of photos. If I were in it for bucks, I wouldn’t have let her see it. I’d be in London, too.”
    Lily couldn’t give up, not yet. “Won’t you just tell us the truth, Mr. Turkle? Tennyson Frasier married me only to get his hands on the paintings. Then he tried to kill me. Did he tell you that, Mr. Turkle? It’s possible that he murdered my child as well, I don’t know for sure. Please, we won’t involve you. Just tell us.”
    Abe Turkle looked back and forth between the two of them. He slowly shook his head.
    “I wish you hadn’t found me, Russo,” Abe Turkle said, shaking his big head. “I really wish you hadn’t.” He turned then and walked out the cottage door.
    “Wait!” Lily started after him.
    Simon grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back. “Let him go, Lily.”
    They watched from the doorway as the big, black Kawasaki scattered rocks and dirt as it picked up speed. Then he was gone.
    “We screwed up,” Simon said.
    “I wish he’d stayed and fought me,” Lily said.
    Simon looked down at her, remembering the image of her in a