Kitty shrugged. “Just a little investigation into criminal insurance fraud.”
Lizzy stilled. “What?”
“It’s honestly not that complicated,” Lydia said as she finished chewing. “Remember that video of Mary destroying that huge modern art painting in Tristan’s apartment?”
No one answered; they all just stared at her, waiting.
“Okay, fast-forward to the next day when Lizzy came home from Montauk,” Lydia continued. “When we were all in the bakery freaking out? Well, this woman called looking for Lizzy, but Lizzy was too busy yelling at Mom—”
“I wasn’t yelling at Mom.”
Lydia rolled her eyes again and barreled on. “So, I took a message. Her name was Emma… something. I forget.”
Will paused. “Emma Woodhouse?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Then Lydia paused, taking a bite of her pancakes. “Is there any more maple syrup in the fridge?” she said around the food in her mouth.
Lizzy sighed. “Lydia, focus.”
“Fine,” Lydia said, chewing. “So anyway, this Emma woman said she knew Lizzy and that she had an art advisor emergency, or something. Andthenshe told me that we needed to look into that painting on Tristan’s wall because he technically shouldn’t even have it since it was, like, stolen or something. Oh, and she said Mary shouldn’t feel bad for ruining it because it was awful and—”
“Lydia,” Lizzy seethed.
“OKAY!” Lydia said, dropping her fork and leaning back. “So, I got off the phone and went to tell you, but you were busy and, honestly, being kind of a bitch, so I went to Kitty and told her. And it turns out this Emma woman was right.”
Lizzy turned to Kitty, exasperated. “What is she talking about?”
“The painting on Tristan’s wall was reported stolen three years ago,” Kitty explained. “The insurance company paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars on the claim.”
“But it could have been a print. Or just a really good fake,” Lizzy said.
“Except that on the police report after the party, where it askedTristan to list all his damaged property, he actually put the name of the painting. And its value.”
Lizzy blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Yup,” Kitty said. There was a satisfied smile on her lips.
“Which could have just been a mistake, right?” Lydia continued. “Like, if Tristan just bought the painting, how would he know? But if he was the one who submitted that insurance claim and got the payoff, all while he still had the painting on his wall, that’s like a big deal. So I called Danny.”
Will was trying to keep up and it was clear he wasn’t the only one.
“And who the hell is Danny?” Lizzy asked, looking completely lost.
“You remember Danny,” Lydia replied, as if Lizzy was being purposely obtuse. “The insurance guy with the Bentley? We’ve only been talking all summer.”
“Oh, you showed me a picture of him!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, apparently excited to have knowledge of at least one thing they were discussing. “He’s really cute.”
Lydia nodded proudly.
“Okay,” Lizzy said, throwing her arms out as if it would keep everyone on track. “So what did Danny say?”
“Well, he saidtechnicallyprivate insurance claims are confidential, so as far as anybody is concerned, he never looked up the old claim to see whose name was on it. Which was Tristan’s.”
A ripple of shock went through the kitchen.
“So what did you do?” Will asked.
“I called the FBI,” Lydia continued with a flourish of her fork. “Obviously.”
