Solve-it-yourself mystery
That was my best painting ever— and someone ruined it!” Carrie Winslow sniffed as she gazed at the large canvas that had been slashed repeatedly with a knife.
“It had to be an act of jealousy!” she sobbed to Detective Tanya Tate and her assistant, Officer Pete Andrews. “No other painting in the art gallery was destroyed, and I recently won the town art competition and a $ 3,000 prize.”
Wiping tears, Carrie took out her cellphone and showed the detective a photo of the painting— a beautiful abstract rainforest scene teeming with vibrant wildlife.
“That’s very lovely,” said Detective Tate, trying to calm Carrie. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
“I overheard three people talking in the gallery yesterday. They didn’t think it was fair I had entered the contest.” “Why is that?” She shrugged. “The contest was for residents of this town only. I’ve rented a place, but I’m still in the process of moving, so they thought I should have been disqualified. Thankfully, the contest organizers disagreed.”
Tate turned to Officer Andrews. “Any closed-circuit cameras in the gallery?” “Unfortunately not.” “What time did the vandalism occur, approximately?”
“The doors are open all day except for a one-hour break at noon. Today when the gallery owner returned from lunch, he discovered my slashed painting and called us immediately.”
“Let’s go have a chat with the three people who were in the gallery yesterday,” said Tate.
It was 4 pm by the time she reached the first suspect on the list, Miriam Walker. The middle-aged woman opened her door wearing a smock covered in flecks of red and yellow paint. When Detective Tate revealed what had happened at the gallery, her mouth dropped open in abject shock. “How awful. Were any other paintings damaged? Was mine?” “No.” “That’s a relief.” “Can I ask where you were between noon and 1 pm today, ma’am?”
“I was here, painting. Ask my husband: I made him lunch.” Detective Tate did, and Miriam’s husband confirmed her alibi. No surprise there. Tate knew he could be lying.
The next visit was to Lea Bancroft, an older woman with a flowing mane of silver hair. “I can’t believe it!” she said. “Where were you between noon and 1 pm today?” “Stuck in traffic.” “Can you prove it?” “Sure can.” Lea pulled out her cellphone and tapped on a photo taken from inside her car. It showed long lines of traffic around her with long shadows stretching across the road, as pedestrians crowded in groups on the sidewalks.
Lea pointed to the photo. “You can see the time on the dashboard clock: 12: 00.”
“Why would you take a photo like this?” Tate asked.
“Because my sister-in-law and I like to compare our traffic woes in each of our towns.”
The last visit was to Agnes Broadhurst. Her mother opened the door and led Tate to a small bedroom filled with canvases. Agnes, a slim young woman, was at work on a painting and put down her brush when they entered.
When the detective revealed what happened, the woman shrugged, then scoffed.
“She must be so upset,” Agnes said with a smirk.
“She is, but you don’t seem the least bit flustered.”
“Why should I be? In my opinion, she shouldn’t have been allowed to enter the contest in the first place!”
“Where were you between noon and 1 pm today, Agnes?”
“I’ve been in my room all day working on this portrait.”
“I suppose your mother can verify that?” Tate asked.
“No, she was at work today.” Agnes frowned, then held up her cellphone. “This will prove I was home. You can track where it’s been, can’t you?”
Unfortunately, that would only prove her phone didn’t leave the house. Luckily, Tate knew exactly who was lying.
— Rosemary Hayes
Q: Who slashed the painting?