“What have you got there?” Reid asked.
“I know, the other detective said you wanted our photos, but I didn’t have any of Pete then. Someone texted this to me late last night—a guy we ran into on Nantucket. His band was going to be playing at the Chicken Box. I made his guitar, and he wanted us to come by for a set, but we were taking off. He wanted a shot of me playing the guitar.”
Ackerley handed Reid the phone, and Reid examined the photo. The men were lined up on the ferry’s deck, with Leland Ackerley holding the guitar, everyone smiling. The sun was bright, glinting off the water. Everyone but Pete was in T-shirts. Pete wore that same long-sleeved sun protection shirt he had had on when Reid had met him at Menemsha.
“Looks like Pete was cold,” Reid said carefully.
“Well, there was a breeze—it can get chilly, especially if you’ve had too much sun.”
“I wonder why he was the only one,” Reid said.
“I don’t know,” Ackerley said.
“Did you notice scratches on his arms? The backs of his hands? At any time did he go swimming—did you see him with his shirt off? Scratches on his neck?”
“No,” Ackerley said. “Not at all.” He paused. “Look, I know what you’re getting at. I didn’t see any scratches. He’s innocent. Why aren’t you looking for the person who stole that painting? The moon one? That’s who you should be after.”
“We’re following all leads,” Reid said.
“I mean, don’t you know what happened to Beth when she was young? All for that painting?”
“Yes,” Reid said. “We’re aware.” He paused for a few seconds. “Did you know he and Beth were having problems?”
“Of course,” Ackerley said. “Pete told me.”
“At the beginning, when I asked if you were close, you said you felt sorry for him. And you addeduntil recently. What happened recently?”
“Maybe I didn’t put it right,” Ackerley said. “In fact, maybe I should have started feeling even sorrier for him. He screwed things up with Beth.”
Reid waited for him to go on.
“Nicola, the affair. Then having a kid with her. Jesus.”
“So, you’re saying it was hard on Pete?”
“Of course. He fell in love. He’s a middle-aged idiot who fell for a grad student. And he ruined his marriage.” Ackerley shook his head. “He couldn’t get out of his own way, just kept compounding his mistakes.”
Reid wanted him to say more about the mistakes, but Ackerley pushed back his chair and stood up. He pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, signaling that the interview was over.
“I have to get going,” he said. “Good luck finding who did it.”
Reid paid the bill and walked outside, caught up with Ackerley as he was unlocking the Jag.
“Listen,” Ackerley said. “Pete felt really bad about hurting Beth and Sam, wrecking the marriage, but it wasn’t all his fault.”
“In what way?” Reid asked.
“I loved Beth. But she never gave Pete any credit. He might not have grown up in the art world, but he caught on right away. He’s a member of Mensa, you know?”
“I’ve heard,” Reid said, trying not to roll his eyes.
“Well, he could have run that gallery like a real business instead of, to be honest, a family hobby. That’s all it was to Beth. A way of showcasing her family’s collection. She was all about coddling artists, not making money. Not turning a profit.”
“How did she coddle artists?”
“You know, they’re all so sensitive. A little crazy. Suffer for their art, you know? Pete would see her turning herself inside out, paying them more than their paintings were worth. Getting taken advantage of. She’d send them to the doctor if they were sick, including therapy in at least one case. She even paid for a sculptor to have a root canal. She’d get too involved with them.”
“Is that what Pete told you?”
