Page 54 of Skin Game
And while yes, Claribel undoubtedly had more information, Shay would be the source of least resistance. Gabe wasn’t prepared to talk to the Delacombe matriarch this afternoon. Claribel was the eleven on a scale of one to ten.
Niall Hamarsson was also a no-go. Gabe and Shay’s other brother had never known David, having discovered that David washisfather when he’d moved back to Piedras Island several years ago. Shay, at least, had lived with the man until he left the island for college.
Additionally, to the surprise of literally no one, it turned out that David Delacombe had had at least one girlfriend in most major cities in Western Washington. The man had had issues being on his own. Gabe just hoped those issues hadn’t led to more invitees to the next family reunion Claribel called.
“I’ll do my best.”
Gabe could hear more than one voice speaking in the background. Wherever Shay was, he wasn’t at home or his office.
“Are you busy right now? I don’t want to barge into your day.”
“Please. I’m Claribel’s acting handler today. Just waiting for her to fleece her best friends while she cheats at bingo.”
Ah, yes. Gabe had been invited to bingo but hadn’t taken Claribel up on it yet. He was curious though.
“Sounds like an adventure.” Phone in hand, Gabe walked over to stand in front of the other living room window, the one he could still see through. As usual, there was nothing going on. A lone squirrel scrabbled across the access road and up a maple treeon the other side. “Do you know anything about what David was up to in 1977-ish?”
“I’m older than you, Gabriel, but not by enough to have any clue what David was doing. One sec.”
Abruptly, the incoming sounds were muted, probably by Shay’s finger over the phone’s microphone. Gabe caught sight of the squirrel again. Now it was carrying something in its mouth and was definitely acting furtively.
“Stole your neighbor’s snacks, huh?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
Great. Shay now knew that Gabe talked to squirrels.
“Nothing, just talking to squirrels, as one does.”
“Okaaaay. I’m going to put you on speaker. Claribel is right here with me. She says to hurry it up, she’s about to cover the board.”
“Good afternoon, Gabriel. How are you doing? Shay says you have a question about my feckless nephew.”
Gabe decided less explaining and just asking his question would likely get him a more straightforward answer. He had only met the woman twice and already knew not to give her too much leeway.
“Do you think it’s possible that David first met Heidi”—he wasn’t ready to reveal that she was likely born Holly Pritchard quite yet—“as early as 1977? She would have been sixteen or so.”
While he waited for Claribel to answer, Gabe tucked the phone under his ear, stacked up the notebooks, and slipped into his Crocs. Then he took the books and his laptop out to his car and tucked them under the back seat. Paranoid much? Perhaps. But he still thought someone had been in his house on Monday, and if that was the case, the notebooks might be safer if he stored them at Casey’s or Elton’s.
Claribel snorted. “Sixteen years old? Of course, it’s possible. He often preferred younger girls, the asshole. Probably because they fell for his line of bullshit. Older, more experienced womenwere more likely to see him for who and what he was, a damn predator. The more I learn about him, the more disgusted I am.”
That made sense, although Gabe was disturbed to think that his sperm donor was a predator. Just as he was about to say something, a spatter of raindrops splashed against his face.
He hurried back inside, saying as he did so, “Do you think he could have been involved in an art theft?”
Shutting the door against the coming storm, Gabe was thinking about Heidi’s scribbles.I got the jobandfound the door. Was it possible that she had worked at the 201 Gallery and was part of the theft? What about Carla Pritchard? Where did she fit in with all of this? Had this Carla person—a possible relative—gotten Heidi a job at the gallery or had Heidi worked somewhere else?
Then the most important question of all, what had happened to the artwork? Heidi and Gabe certainly hadn’t lived a life of luxury. He’d done a quick search on Martin Crevan, and even his sketches were worth thousands these days. The Heidi he knew wouldn’t have let that kind of income get away from her. And… what kind of business had a secret door anyway?
Apparently, the kind located in a one-hundred-year-old building in Westfort, Washington.
“David?” Claribel sounded thoughtful, and Gabe wished he could see her face. “Why not? He was involved with problematic moneybags people and set fire to his own property for the insurance. Seems to me that art theft is just a hop, skip, and a jump from that. Why do you ask?”
Gabe kicked off his shoes and plopped down on the couch. “It’s a long story, and I don’t know the end of it yet. Conceivably, there’s stolen art involved, but that could just be me projecting.”
It nagged at him that he’d only found the single story about the paintings taken from the 201 Gallery. Crevan was a big artist, big enough that the theft should have been a huge deal. What had really happened? They’d probably never learn the wholestory. If Gabe hadn’t witnessed his mother coolly removing paintings from an art gallery in Laguna Beach all those years ago, he might not have stopped scrolling. But he had, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Stolen art is certainly a possibility. The asshole was always on the prowl for his next big scheme. But if he was involved, I don’t know if he ever reaped any benefits. Certainly not an influx of cash. He was quick to brag when that happened.” Gabe thought he heard a gagging sound on Claribel’s part.