Man of Taste Chapter 9 and 10
“How much do you trust Marcel?”
“I’d trust him with my life.”
“So would I,” said Marie-Claude, immediately. “He’s like family. When his family was killed during the war, Constantin and I decided he would live with us. We grew up together. He’s a paragon of virtue.”
“Hmm,” from Bruce. “That’s saying a lot.”
“Yes,” said Constantin as he poured them each a brandy. “First of all, he does not have the knowledge of Art and History as we do. He was a boy from a hardworking family who we literally took in as a member of our family. He would have more to lose if he was involved in a nefarious scheme than he would gain. I would trust him. No. I would dismiss the thought. It is not possible.”
“Good,” Bruce replied. “I knew you’d say that. I sensed it. As a matter of fact, I asked him a few questions already. He agreed to list all those who had been in the chateau before the sketch was found missing. And now I’d like to ask the two of you to do the same.”
After much discussion of how long they would have to go back, they agreed to do it, reluctantly.
“What will it prove?” asked Constantin.
“Nothing,” Bruce replied, “but it will tell me something about the day-to-day workings of the chateau. I have to see patterns, security and so on.”
“Well. I’ll gladly list the companies and workers who are here on a regular basis and of course the people we hire every day. I doubt if it will tell you much, but I’m ready to cooperate.”
“So am I,” said Marie-Claude, “but I’m away often and there may be duplications.”
“No problem,” said Bruce. “Let’s see what happens. There’s no rush. In the meantime
I’m going to look around the town for a day or two.”
“Would you like to go anywhere? I can take you in the car. I’m not doing much these days.” Marie- Claude was anxious to get involved.
“I’m sure there are many places to visit. I’ll study a map tonight and let you know in a day or so. But for the time being, I’d like you to tell me as much as you know about the history of the drawing, if you would, and I’d like to see the copy of what the culprit took.”
Constantin rose. “Follow me,” he said. Marie-Claude and Bruce followed.
They were in Constantin’s private library. Many of the books were leather-bound and behind glass. The count unlocked a large drawer and withdrew a framed picture. He put on a desk lamp and withdrew the drawing. It had a new look about it which immediately struck Bruce with the crude plan of the culprits.
“They certainly didn’t take many pains to disguise their work. One look would tell the uninformed that this was a new drawing.”
“Yes, it was obvious,” said Constantin, “but I hadn’t looked at it in months. I’m not certain when it was taken. That’s why a list of those who may have seen it will be so difficult to construct.”
“Yes,” Marie-Claude agreed. “I don’t remember the last time I looked closely at it. It hung in a room with large furniture and plants. It was not a room I entered often.”
“Well,” said Bruce, “that may make our task harder, but we must begin somewhere.”
“Yes,” Constantin agreed, “let’s begin with our examination of the sketch.”
Bruce adjusted his reading glasses.
“As you can see, it is a simple sketch, easy to duplicate. It is black on white although the original seemed to be lighter black on yellowing paper. It was framed under glare-proof glass to preserve it and only hung in the chateau since the war. Before that it had been stored. On the back of the original drawing there were a few words of description written in mirror image. It was signed by the artist. On this recent forgery there is nothing on the back.”
Bruce held a magnified glass to the sketch. The hand was fairly steady. The lines were bold; the paper was obviously new. There was no serious attempt to make the sketch look old and yet, for some time it fooled the viewers… if, as Constantin suggested, there were viewers at all. Bruce was surprised that something this important and this old would have been hung in a rather obscure place. Yet someone found it, knew its value and stole it. The police report was vague and hastily scribbled. He noted the name of the investigating officer and wrote it in his memo book.
“I’d like to talk with the police about their investigation,” he said.
Constantin gave him the address in Montignac.
“Can we go to Montignac?” he asked.
Marie Claude replied. “I wanted to go there next week to attend the master brotherhood of pastry chefs’ meetings. Perhaps we can go together.”
“Good idea,” Constantin added. “I’ll stay here, but I would like to show you the town and the countryside this weekend. Perhaps you are free to do so tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Bruce replied, replacing his glasses. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 10
The next morning Constantin and Bruce walked to the pleasant Auberge du Parc and chatted over coffee. It was just beneath the walls of the chateau. Marie-Claude slept in. It was Saturday and Constantin explained that he always had his coffee at the Auberge on Saturday morning.
There was nobody else in the restaurant and Constantin seemed relaxed.
Bruce opened the conversation. “Was there a police report?”
The count thought. “The detective kept making notes and I know they opened a file, but I read or received nothing.”
“What sort of things did they ask you?
“The usual. Where was the painting hanging and was it always there? When did you discover that it was missing or switched? Did you touch anything?”
“And what did you answer?”
“It was always hanging in the same place. But last January it was moved as the room was painted. No, I didn’t move it after that. It was I who hung it and I who discovered the switch. At that time I did hold it to examine it. There were finger prints discovered but only mine. Things like that.”
Bruce shifted in his seat. “Since last January, was the room used for anything special?”
“No. The painting of the room was finished in late February. I can check my cheque book. I paid the painters before they left.”
“Were you in there often?”
“Yes, I was in that room but not often. There were boxes stored there.”
“What floor is the room on?”
“The ground floor.”
“Was there any evidence of a break-in?”
“No. But there was some water damage, the day of the big storm in late March. A window blew open and the rain came in on the floor.”
“Are you sure the wind blew the window open?”
“I just assumed so. Sometimes in warm weather the windows are not locked and we let the wind come through. It is a very warm building.”
“How soon after the storm and damage did you discover it?”
“A few days, I’d say. Why do you ask?”
“Well,” started Bruce. “If someone came in before or during the storm and failed to close the window properly, there would have been water damage. I’m trying to zero in on an approximate date. Someone could have failed to lock the window or someone could have unlocked it. I assume the lock is on the inside.”
“Yes. It locks by hand. It won’t open very easily from the outside.”
“So we can deduce that it was left open or someone opened it from the inside.”
As Constantin thought about that, Bruce continued. “Did the police ask about the window?”
“No,” said Constantin, “but they did examine it, inside and outside.”
“Did they find anything?”
“They didn’t say. But we can ask them.”
“I’m concerned about the day of the rainstorm. I’d like to speak to someone who might record the daily weather.”
Constantin looked surprised. “But, I do that every night. I keep a weather log. It’s an old military habit. I can certainly tell you when it rained in late March. But the window being open and the rain can be a coincidence.”
“True,” said Bruce, pouring another cup of black coffee, “but we can start by making assumptions. Once we know the exact date of the robbery we can dismiss certain facts and zero in on others.”
Back in Constantin’s library they found his weather log. He skimmed the pages then read aloud.
“It was seasonally warm for March. From the 15th to the 29th it averaged close to 15 degrees Celsius. There was no rain until March 31st when it started getting warmer.” He turned pages. “Here, on the 3rd of April we had strong winds and thunderstorms through most of the night. It didn’t rain again until, let me see, April 7th.”
“And when did you discover that the painting had been switched?”
Constantin thought. “I’d have to check with the police in Montignac. I called them the moment I discovered the crime.”
“Good,” said Bruce. “I’d like to make a trip to Montignac and speak to the detective who was on the case.”
“Not a problem,” said Constantin. “I will call them immediately. I can go with you or they can come here. I’ll ask.”
It was soon arranged. They were in Constantin’s 1948 American Buick, recently imported from the United States. The count had a weakness for American cars. They headed south west. The investigating officer would be waiting for them.
Bruce read through the notes he had made. He wondered what the investigating officer had found. He would know soon enough…
Copyright © Arnie Greenberg
