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“So you agreed.”
“Yes. DiFanetti asked what I wanted to do with the Rembrandt. I had him bring it into the house.”
“DiFanetti drove the laundry truck?”
“No, there was a young man with him. I don’t know who he was, and DiFanetti never addressed him by name. They brought the painting upstairs and put it in a guest room. And all the while, I was turning over ideas how to conceal it in such a way thatIcould still look upon it, but no one else would know of its existence.”
“So DiFanetti left once they’d unloaded the painting?”
The senator nodded. “The following morning, I called him. I asked if he could recommend a carpenter. I figured he would know of someone who could be trusted. He said he’d find one for me. Later that day, Al came. At that time, the paintings were on walls all over the house. I’d called Della, telling her I was having some remodeling done, I’d stay until it was finished, and that it was a surprise. I’d had all night to plan.”
“You asked him to construct the pocket doors.”
“And a partition wall across the largest bedroom. Al—James—took some measurements. I was impressed. He seemed awfully young but very capable. The following morning he came back, and by the end of the day, the studwork was up. Over the next few days, he built the partition walls and put up the track for the doors. He hung the doors to check everything worked, then paneled the walls with Sheetrock.”
Gary tapped his pen on the table. “As a matter of interest, did he ever meet Cheryl?”
“Yes, he did. He met her over that weekend. I said she was an artist and showed him photos of her portraits. He admired her work. I think he was also fascinated by her. She drew a lot of attention.”
Dan leaned forward. “Let’s get back to your account. James hung the doors.”
The senator nodded. “But I’d been watching. When he’d gone, I removed a couple of sides of Sheetrock, removed the braces from the inside of the partition, then replaced the Sheetrock, ready for plaster and paint.”
Gary blinked. “Youdid all that?” Then he widened his eyes. “Of course. You worked on a construction site when you were younger.”
Another nod. “When they’d finished painting, I added a frame to the edge of the door, then a panel and rollers.”
Dan’s breathing caught. “So James Sebring knew nothing about it?”
“Not a thing.”
Gary made a note. “Back to the night in question.”
“I checked on Cheryl. She was breathing, but she was in a bad way. And then she came around. I cleaned up her head. She tried to talk, but she wasn’t making much sense.”
“And then you called Bruno.”
“Yes.”
“But why him?” Dan wanted to know.
“I don’t know why I called him, to be honest. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. I simply knew I needed help, and he was the first person who came to mind. He told me to sit tight and that he’d get to me as fast as he could. I spent the intervening time holding her hand, trying to stem the bleeding, to keep her talking.”
“Could she talk?”
“Yes, but still nothing that made any sense. And then finally, two cars arrived. DiFanetti was driving one of them.”
“Who was in the other?” Dan asked.
“I didn’t know at first. DiFanetti told me later that it was his son. I never saw him. Not that I cared who he was. All I wanted was for DiFanetti to clear up the nightmare situation I’d created.” He swallowed. “And for Cheryl to be okay.”
Friday August 28, 1992
SENATOR CAINopened the front door to find Bruno DiFanetti standing on his doorstep.
“Senator. Where is she?”
“Upstairs in my office. It’s the room facing the one where you put the painting.”
