Man of Taste Chapters 12 and 13

Chapter 12

The Count and his sister were out riding when Bruce came to breakfast.  Marcel handed Bruce the list he had asked for. Scanning it, Bruce was surprised at the number of workmen who had been in the Chateau just before the robbery. He also noted that Marcel was suspicious of nobody.

He told Bruce that nobody had a key except those who actually lived there. There was a cook, two waiters and general helpers, himself and the family duo. The maids came in each morning and departed in the evening. They would stay later only if there had been a dinner party, but there had been no such party for a long time.

Bruce made a note. No party meant nothing. The caper might have been planned months before.

“Were there any visitors, friends or family who stayed over around the time the drawing was last seen?”

Marcel thought. “No, Monsieur. The only one I remember visiting here about that time was Carlos Diaz and Emile Picard, the family lawyer.”

“Who is Carlos Diaz?”

Marcel looked surprised. ”Why, the Countess’s ex-husband. You did know that the Countess was recently divorced?”

Bruce indicated that he was not aware. He asked, “How long were they married?”

“Only briefly. The divorce was settled amiably last year and Senor Diaz and the family lawyer came to have some papers signed. The marriage had lasted less than two years. It took place while the Countess was living in Barcelona, towards the end of the war. Carlos was from an important family. Some say he was related to Royalty. There is no reason to suggest that he might be involved in the robbery. He is independently wealthy and, to my knowledge, he was only here once or twice.”

“But, he must have known about the drawing.”
“No,” said Marcel. “The drawing was still hidden until two years after the war ended. Senor Diaz was not here when the drawing was actually rehung.”

Bruce made a note. There were more things to learn about his new friends. Marie Claude had never mentioned her brief marriage. What else did she fail to tell him?

Walking around the courtyard, Bruce glanced at Marcel’s list of Chateau visitors.
It contained the names of companies that had done work over the past year or so. It was the usual list of carpenters, masons, painters, electricians, plumbers, gardeners and professionals like accountants, lawyers, doctors and catering companies. But Marcel added a note that nobody on the list had been in the room where the missing drawing hung, unless Marie Claude or her brother had taken someone to that room without Marcel’s knowledge.

The list contained a name that caught his eye. Dr. Raymond Biot was an art dealer from nearby Brantôme. While they hadn’t met, Dr. Biot was known to Bruce because of the articles he had written on art restoration. He would surely be in his eighties by now and Bruce was surprised that he was still active. He circled the name and continued reading.

He went back to Marie-Claude’s ex husband and noted that Emile Picard, his lawyer, had offices in Brantôme and Perigueux. They were not far from Hautefort. He circled his name too.

Later that day, he had a chance to sit down with Marie Claude and ask about Carlos Diaz.

Her answers and the subject of her marriage raised no flags. She calmly explained that she and Carlos had been married in Barcelona during the war. She had met him through friends and while he was from a family of some significance before the Franco era, he was living in an apartment in the old quarter of Barcelona. The couple stayed there together for two years and by then, the marriage was over. Apparently, there was another woman.

“And what was the nature of his visit here recently? Surely it wasn’t simply friendship.”

“No. We had some business to discuss. Carlos was in the area on business. He contacted our lawyer and they came here to discuss matters.”

“Matters?”

“Yes. There were some family pieces of jewelry that I had. Carlos came to get them back.”

“I don’t want to pry, but if he was a man of means, why would he want a few baubles returned?”

She frowned. “They were hardly baubles. They were rings and necklaces that had belonged to Carlos’s great grandmother. They were part of their Royal treasures.”

“And did you argue over them?”

“Hardly. I returned them gladly. Carlos had cheated on me. I wanted nothing of his. I was actually happy he came to get them.”

“Did he sleep over?”

“Not at all. They did stay to dinner, but that’s all.”

“Did he look around?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact I gave Maitre Picard and Carlos a tour of the renovations. After the war, the chateau has fallen into considerable ruin. Rebuilding was our first priority.”

“Did you show them the room with the da Vinci?”

“I’m not sure. I might have.” She paused. “Yes, I think I did, but there was no mention of the drawing. It was not in a significant place.”

Bruce made a note. “I’m sorry for asking so many questions. Does this bother you?”

“Hardly. My years with Carlos are over. I’ve moved on. My life is now here with my brother.”

Bruce pocketed his note pad. “Can I arrange to visit Maitre Picard? In Brantôme?”

“Yes but he has offices in other places nearer to Hautefort.”

“I know, but there’s someone else I’d like to see in Brantôme at the same time. I hear it’s a lovely town and there’s a man there I’d like to visit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s an art dealer and restorer of some merit. I’ve read some of his findings and I would like to ask him some questions.”

“Then we can go there and, as they say, kill two birds with one rock.”

“You mean stones…”

“Pardon?”

“The expression is ‘two birds with one stone’.”

“Ah, yes. One stone. I’ll remember that.”

 “We can leave tomorrow.”



Chapter 13

It was a tiny village but it was actually charming.
 They walked along the main street and stopped before a typical old stone house just off to one side. Marie-Claude knocked on the door and a hoarse voice called out. “Entrez.”

Inside they faced an old woman in simple dress with thick glasses seated in a rocking chair.

Marie-Claude introduced Bruce in French. She described him as the man who was going to find her missing drawing. He tried to hide his curiosity and reached out to the lady’s wrinkled hand. Marie-Claude whispered.

“Madame Robert was once my nanny. We were very close. She was the mother I never had. Mama died in childbirth. Mme Robert took over. She speaks a little English but she is almost blind.”

Mme Robert looked off into space. “Come closer,” she said. “I want to see your face.”

Bruce leaned towards the woman who reached up and put both hands on Bruce’s face. She gently ran her hands across his face.

“Ah, oui. Now I see you. You are a gentle and serious man. You like the good things in life. You are a man of taste.”

Bruce was taken aback. “You can see all that with your hands?”

“Yes. And I can see that you are determined to find Marie-Claude’s little drawing.” She pronounced it ‘leetle’.

Marie-Claude interjected. “Mme Robert knows everything about my family. There are no secrets in this house.”

Bruce tried his best undergraduate French. “Merci Madame. Je trouverez le dessin, si possible.”

“Yes. I am sure that you will, si possible.”

Marie Claude covered the old woman’s legs with a blanket. They left her alone and Marie Claude said, “She lives with her daughter. She is probably close behind. She’s never far away.”

“I’m learning so much about you,” he smiled.

“And I am learning that you are a determined man of taste. But I knew that before I even met you.”

“How, pray tell, did you know all that?”

“Francoise Gilot told me so. So did Picasso. They were very impressed with you.”




©. A. Greenberg