Gilroy nodded. He looked like I’d just told him we were having chicken instead of beef.

“You knew?” I said.

“Some of it. Some of it I only suspected.”

“I should’ve known it was her.”

“It’s not a bad thing to trust people.”

My nose back in the fridge, I found chicken tenders, cheese, an onion, and tortillas. Then I opened a can of sliced Anaheim peppers and set to work making chicken quesadillas.

“OK, tell me about Isak Karlsen,” I said as I started the chicken frying and chopped the veg. “Did he bug Dalton’s studio?”

“He did. He admitted it.”

“Shasta told me Isak knew she was cheating.”

“When did you talk to her?”

“A couple hours ago—and at Grove Coffee with tons of people around, before you ask. I take it Royce and Julia told you that Clay and Isak were arguing three blocks from Dalton’s house after the brunch.”

“They came to the station.”

“Clay said something like, ‘If people find out, forget about the gallery,’ and then something like ‘That idiot.’ I think the idiot in question was Dalton.”

“Because of his forgeries, I’ll bet.”

“He must have painted a lot of them. The stolen landscape from his studio—and the covered painting that was taken—could have been forgeries, or studies for forgeries.”

“Likely.”

“Why did no one discover what he was up to until now?”

“Hmm.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Gilroy had entered zoned-out detective mode. I put a large pan on the stove and heated the first tortilla, tossing cheese and the rest of the ingredients on top of it. Proper quesadillas are made on an open grill, but my pan method yielded a quick and tasty meal. Anyway, I’d learned my husband wasn’t fussy about food. Good thing.

By the time we started eating, Gilroy had exited detective mode.

“During the interview, I thought I’d ask Isak if he and Clay knew Taylor had forged paintings,” he told me. “He was surprised, but in a calculated way, if you know what I mean.”

“He was faking it.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve decided Mary’s so-called blackmail isn’t linked to the murders.”

“Probably not, I agree. She had us running in circles.”

“I could murder her.”

“Don’t say that in front of the police chief.”

“Laura and the newly painted cane, though. That’s linked to her death.”

Gilroy nodded, chewed, then said, “She felt betrayed.”

“Shelly Todd said the only people who knew about Laura’s eyes were her doctor, her sister, and Shelly herself.”

“Until Isak had Charlotte dig up the Volunteer Aid Program record and Charlotte sold the information there to Dalton.”

“But I’m convinced Dalton didn’t know Laura was heading toward complete blindness. When I talked to him about her being blind, he was still speaking artistically, metaphorically.”

“That’s how he viewed the world.”

“So many secrets and betrayals. It wasn’t just Dalton and his Hidden paintings, it was Mary, Isak, Brodie, and Charlotte.”

“Taylor and his forgeries.”

I laid down my fork. “Both Clay and Isak knew he painted forgeries. I’ll bet they knew before they bought the gallery, and they bought it anyway, even knowing it could blow up in their faces. Anything for an exclusive showing of the great Dalton Taylor’s paintings.”

“The Blackwells and Karlsens were in danger of losing everything, and in his own way, so was Brodie Keegan.”

“Brodie had a motive to kill Dalton, but not Laura.”

“Gossip about Keegan’s DUI was going to spread in Juniper Grove, no matter what he did. I don’t know what killing Taylor would’ve achieved.”

“Revenge, James.”

“We forgot the wine.” Gilroy rose and fetched a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from our meagerly stocked wine cabinet.

“Back to the Blackwells and Karlsens,” I said. “Dalton was their future, so why kill him? And there was no reason for any of them to kill Laura, who was actually making brochures for the gallery’s opening.”

“Charlotte told Dalton about Laura and the aid program,” Gilroy said, popping the cork. “Did she ask him to add the cane?”

“No, she was firm about that, and I believe her. She was in no position to ask him to do anything, but Dalton told me he added the cane ‘on request.’ His exact words. Someone talked him into it.”

Gilroy handed me my glass and sat again. “Or someone forced him into it.”

“Are we talking blackmail again?”

“Maybe. Just before she left the brunch, Laura talked about payback and said, ‘Suddenly I can’t stand the company.’ Remember? She said, ‘suddenly.’ I think she knew the why and the who of that cane. She knew Taylor painted it, of course, but she realized then that someone at the brunch had told Taylor about her eyesight.”

I nodded. “Someone she’d trusted. Who could’ve been that cruel?”

Gilroy gave me one of his Did You Really Ask That? looks. Sadly, we had both learned that most of the guests at the Blackwells’ brunch were capable of being cruel.

“Cruelty is one thing, but Taylor hated Laura Patchett,” Gilroy said. “But I’m positive he didn’t kill her. I can’t figure out the motive for murder, in either case. One conclusion I’ve come to, though. Our landscape thief is a Blackwell or Karlsen. It had to be someone invested in that gallery.”