Man of Taste Chapter 7
Chapter 7He sat, thinking about his task and the interesting family he was staying with. He was surprised by a voice.
“Monsieur, excusez-moi.” It was Marcel. “Can I get you anything else? “
“Is your family still here in Hautefort?”
“Unfortunately, no. They died during the war here in the village. I’m not sure of the circumstances. I did have an older brother, but he died in England in 1943. It was an accident.”
“Sorry,” Bruce replied. Then he added, “I assume you know that the artworks here are priceless. Did you know they were hidden during the war?”
“Yes, sir. I helped pack them in cases and see to it that they were, shall we say, whisked away. It was just before the Germans invaded. Le Baron, the Count’s father, had friends in Belgium. They saw to it that the works of art were shipped to Canada for safe-keeping. They were all returned after the surrender. There has never been a problem with the security in the chateau, until recently.”
Bruce looked up from his notes. “You mean the missing drawing?’ he asked.
“Yes, monsieur. I was the first one the Count confided in. We are very close.”
“I assume so. You’re a very lucky man,” Bruce said, softly. “Actually, you and the Count are both lucky to have found each other.”
Marcel bowed his head and whispered, “Merci, Monsieur. I am very much aware of that.”
Bruce felt he was making Marcel uneasy. “I am here to help find the drawing. Do you know that?”
“Oui, monsieur, I was told why you were coming here. I am very happy that you have come.”
“Marcel,” Bruce started, “I would like you to do me a favor. During the next day or two, I’d like you to make a list of all the people who have been in the chateau, to the best of your memory. Friends, villagers, workmen, masons, painters, service people, even professionals. Can you do that?”
“I can try, but M. Le Conte has had many craftsmen, gardeners, carpenters and members of the city council here. He has meetings often. Some are social and some professional. It will not be easy.”
“But it would be of enormous help to me. Do what you can.”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
“And Marcel,” Bruce added. “Underline in red anyone you might be suspicious of, please.”
Marcel looked bewildered. “Suspicious, Monsieur? Why would I be suspicious of anyone?”
“You never know. It may be something someone said or did. Then again, you may have had no suspicions. See what happens.”
Marcel suddenly looked anxious to leave. “Very well, Monsieur”.
Bruce was alone again, but not for long; he could hear Marie-Claude’s voice. She and her brother had returned.
Chapter 8
He greeted them as they climbed the stairs.
Constantin smiled, “Hello. Are you ready for lunch?”
Marie-Claude smiled. “Lunch will be in twenty minutes. We must change.”
“I’ll be ready,” Bruce smiled. “Good ride?”
“Wonderful. Invigorating,” from Constantin as he disappeared. The twenty minutes became thirty but Bruce didn’t mind. He waited and wandered around the drawing room next to where they would eat lunch, and noticed the white grand piano and sat down. In front of him was the music for Moonlight Sonata. He began to play, softly and with feeling. The gold decorated piano was perfectly tuned. Soon he was lost in the music. This had been one of his favorites when he studied music as a boy. The notes didn’t flow as they once did, but he was deep into the music when he spotted Marie-Claude seated at the other end of the room, watching him. He stopped suddenly.
“I’m embarrassed,” he frowned. “I haven’t played in years.”
“You’re very good,” said Marie-Claude as she came towards him. “You’re a man of many talents.”
Bruce was smiling now as Constantin entered the room. “Was that you playing?” he asked.
“Guilty as charged,” Bruce joked. “It’s been a while.”
“Nevertheless,” said Constantin. “You have talent.”
They went in to lunch. The three waiters were waiting. On the table was a large bowl of caviar trimmed with tiny wafers. Marcel held a cold bottle of Champagne.
“Ah, my favorite,” said Marie Claude.
“And mine too,” said Constantin.
“Make that three,” Bruce smiled. Everyone laughed. The waiters remained stoic.
After lunch they sat in the music room near the piano. The waiters served more wine and left the three to talk. Constantin started the discussion.
“I think it’s time we started talking about why my sister asked you to come here.”
Bruce settled back, notebook in hand.
“As you know, we seem to have had a robbery here some months ago. I can’t say when, exactly, as we only discovered that a drawing was switched, missing, gone or stolen a few weeks ago. Naturally we called the police in Limoges, the largest city in the area, and they started an investigation. They took fingerprints, or tried to, but there were none. They called in all the usual suspects but found nothing. The drawing was believed to be done by Leonardo Da Vinci himself.” Bruce continued making notes as Constantin continued. “It was a study for mechanical wings said to have been done when the master stayed here on his way to Amboise, where he lived for a while and died.”
Bruce was busy writing in his notebook.
“The police have no clues but the investigation proved that the copy was slipped into the original frame and was done on ordinary watercolor paper, manufactured in Paris quite recently. The copy was hardly exact but since it was only a line drawing, it was easy for the perpetrator to reproduce something that would not easily be detected at first sight. I knew the drawing well and discovered it myself. So we do not know when it was taken. I can’t even remember when I last checked it before my embarrassing discovery.”
Bruce looked up. “And do you suspect anyone?”
“No one. You have to understand that we never had an incident like this, at least not in my lifetime. The family has made a positive impression on the community. We have friends among the villagers and many of them earn their livelihood working for us.”
“Including the piano tuner?” Bruce interrupted.
Marie-Claude was surprised. “How do you know we had the piano tuned?”
“I just played it,” Bruce replied. “It was either tuned recently or it holds its tune very well.”
“You are very astute,” Constantin smiled. “You are correct too. Unfortunately that won’t get us anywhere. The piano was tuned after the discovery of the theft.”
Bruce smiled and crossed something out in his memo pad.
Copyright © Arnie Greenberg
