Chapter Four
Barry and I stood breathlessly while Olive read the painting. He needed to know whether his former client was a thief. I just loved to watch her work. She took on this air of serenity, as if nothing in the world suited her as perfectly as reading an object and finding out who owned it.
“Well, this one’s easy,” she said. “It belongs to that rather hostile woman downstairs.”
“To Deborah?” I said with surprise.
“As Miriam’s heir, technically everything in this house belongs to her,” Barry said. “I assume that’s why she’s showing up.”
Olive nodded. “Probably. She is the one in my vision. Now this next piece…I’m seeing a couple, probably in their late fifties. They look a little older than me. Middle Eastern descent, I’d say. I don’t know who they are, but neither of them look
