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but tomorrow I’m going to have to go through everything and see what the mice have gotten into,” Shawn said grimly. “According to health department regulations, I have to toss anything they’ve touched. I’ll have to get an exterminator in the morning.” Shawn sighed. “Let’s just say this is a complete disaster. If this keeps up, I don’t know what’s going to happen with the auction dinner. What a nightmare!”
    â€œI’m really sorry all this is happening to you,” Nancy said sympathetically.
    â€œYou’re doing more than I could have expected,” Shawn said. He looked down at the painting. “So? Do you recognize the place?”
    Nancy shook her head. “I’m still missing a big triangular piece right here on the lower left.” She went back to the area near the wall and searched some more. “It doesn’t seem to be here at all,” she noted.
    â€œIt has to be,” Shawn said. He helped her look,but after five minutes, they’d still turned up nothing. “That’s strange,” Shawn murmured.
    Nancy returned to the assembled pieces and studied them. “You know what else is strange? Look how precisely this missing piece was cut. All these other pieces are torn and ragged, but not this section.” She outlined the missing shape with her finger. “It looks as though it was cut out with a razor.” She gazed up at Shawn. “Do you remember what was in this section?”
    â€œNot exactly,” Shawn said. “I think it was just more trees. Does this mean anything to you?”
    Nancy drummed the table thoughtfully with her fingertips. “Something isn’t adding up here. Why can’t we find the piece of this painting?”
    â€œYou really think it’s important?” Shawn asked skeptically.
    â€œMaybe not,” Nancy admitted. “Where did these paintings come from?”
    â€œI bought them from Felice Wainwright,” Shawn replied.
    â€œFelice Wainwright!” Nancy exclaimed, remembering the way the sedan had slowed outside the heiress’s estate. “Why did you say you bought them from a friend?”
    Embarrassed, Shawn stared down at the floor. “I didn’t want to admit I was playing up to Mrs. Wainwright. As you might know, Mrs. Wainwright is involved in all sorts of charity work,” Shawn went on. “Her pet project is an art program for modelprisoners, and she kind of pressured me into buying these for the restaurant.”
    â€œYou didn’t really want them?” Nancy asked.
    Shawn shrugged. “They’re okay, I guess, but they don’t exactly go with the decor.”
    â€œThen why did you buy them?” Nancy asked.
    â€œWell, we were discussing the booking for her preauction dinner. She was telling me how, if things went well, she’d recommend the Arizona House to all her friends. And then, in the same breath, she asked if I was interested in buying a bunch of paintings by this prisoner named Joseph Spaziente. He’s in her art class, and I guess he’s her big discovery. She thinks he’s some kind of artistic genius. I couldn’t say no—and she knew it, too.”
    Just then, one of the officers joined them. He was a short, husky man with dark hair. “Here’s my report,” he said, placing a clipboard on the table in front of Shawn. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”
    Shawn glanced over the report. “I don’t think so. The main damage is to the wall and the seven paintings.”
    â€œSeven?” Nancy asked. “I only see six.”
    Shawn looked at the paintings laid out on the table. “There’s the seventh, over there,” he said, pointing to a large, severely slashed oil landscape still leaning against the wall.
    â€œIt looks like it’s the same scene as this one with the missing triangle,” Nancy observed.
    Shawn shrugged. “I