the only thing that makes any sense. I saw her leaving with a painting. So, of course, I thought she’d stolen it. I guess that’s what I was supposed to think.”
“Are you sure the painting you have is a fake?”
“It doesn’t look like it to me, but I’m no expert by any means. The owner says he still has the original. So maybe I stopped the woman before she could make the switch, but I could have sworn she was coming from the house.”
McKenzie seemed to give it some thought. “Maybe she saw your headlights coming up the road and took off before she could make the switch.”
“I suppose. If she really was a cat burglar. Or it could be just what the marshal thinks it is—my brothers’ idea of a joke.
“I know an art expert if you’re interested in finding out about the painting. Or, if it is by a local Western artist, you could take it right to the source,” she said.
“Have you ever heard of Taylor West?”
McKenzie looked over at him in surprise. “He’s a well-known artist in these parts. He lives farther up the canyon near Taylor Fork. I’m sure if you took the painting to him, he’d be able to tell you if it was his or not.”
“I just might do that.” He looked up the mountain road ahead and thought about what he’d seen last night as he’d come over the last rise. He couldn’t help thinking about the woman. She’d certainly played her part well. If his brothers had been in on it.
He thought about what he’d seen in her eyes just before he started to call the marshal. She’d looked scared. But that could have been an act, too.
“First thing I want to do is see the original,” he said to McKenzie.
“You think the owner lied about having it? Why would he do that?” she asked as the house came into view.
“I don’t know. To collect on the insurance, maybe. He could be in on some scam involving the artwork if this artist is that well-known.”
McKenzie raised a brow as she parked next to a white SUV next to the house. “Cowboy art doesn’t go for that much. A Taylor West might sell for near a hundred grand to the right market. But we aren’t talking the Mona Lisa.”
He didn’t know what the original was worth, but he was anxious to see it. “I looked up the artist’s website last night. Most of Taylor West’s original work sells for twenty-five to seventy-five thousand depending on the size. Some of his older works are worth more.”
“Did you see this particular painting on the artist’s website?”
“No.”
The owner, Theo Nelson, turned out to be an older distinguished man who’d apparently made his money in real estate back East. “If you have any questions, just let me know. I’ll be in my study.” Nelson disappeared up the stairs, leaving them alone.
“So what do you think, so far?” McKenzie asked as they stepped to the bank of windows that looked out on Lone Mountain. The snow-covered peak glowed in the morning sun against a robin’s-egg-blue sky.
“The view is incredible,” Laramie said. Then he dragged his gaze away to look at the paintings on the walls.
“This open concept is nice,” McKenzie said as she went into the kitchen. “Great for entertaining. Granite countertops, new top-of-the-line appliances, lots of cupboard space, a walk-in pantry and even more storage for multiple sets of china and glassware—if you ever get married to a woman who collects both... You aren’t listening to me,” she said when Laramie didn’t take the bait.
“Sorry. Let’s see the second story,” he said, already starting up the stairs.
The next floor had a large second living area, two bedrooms and a study. The study door was partially open, the owner at his desk, head down.
Laramie scanned the walls quickly. The painting wasn’t there.
“Another great view,” McKenzie was saying.
He agreed, taking a moment to notice the house. He liked it. “Let’s see the top floor.” He saw her shake her head, but she followed him up to the third level.
This, he realized, was a huge master bedroom. It cantilevered out so when he stood at the bank of windows, he felt as if he was flying.
“Impressive,” McKenzie said. “But I’m not sure I could sleep in here. I have this thing about heights. The master bathroom is really nice, though. Check out this shower.” She turned, no doubt realizing she’d lost him again.
Laramie stood in front of a painting, shaking his head. “This is the one.”
“Does it look like the painting you took from the woman last night?” McKenzie asked in a whisper as she stepped closer.
“It looks exactly like it. How can he be so sure it’s the original?”
“Because I had it authenticated.” Neither of them had heard the owner come up the stairs to join them. Now the man stepped past them to take the painting off the wall and show them the back.
Laramie could see that it had a small card taped to the back. He realized how easy it would have been for the cat burglar to make the switch—including the authentication.
“You must be the man who thought you saw a burglar here last night,” Nelson said as he put the painting back on the wall. “I’m glad it was a false alarm.”
“Me, too,” Laramie said, still not sure he believed it.
“So what do you think of the house?” the man asked.
“I like it.”
“We’ll be looking at some others,” McKenzie said quickly. “How long are you going to be in town?”
“Only as long as it takes. So if you’re interested...”
“You’ll hear from us,” she said, motioning to Laramie that it was time to go. “I have several other houses for us to look at this morning,” she said once they were in the SUV heading off the mountain.
“Don’t bother. I want that one.”
She shot him a look. “But you haven’t even—”
“That’s the house. Find out what furniture stays. Also I want that painting.”
As they dropped over the rise, the house disappearing behind them, McKenzie hit her brakes and skidded to a stop in the middle of the narrow snow-packed road. “You want the painting?”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll part with it. If he’s selling the house, then he’s leaving Montana. His next wife won’t want any cowboy art in her house.”
McKenzie laughed. “You are definitely decisive once you make up your mind, but did you even look at the house or do you really just want the painting?”
He smiled over at her. “I want both.
