3 The Braque Connection (8 page)

“Thanks, love.” Only in very private moments did he call me that. It felt good. “Thanks for understanding.”

I nodded stiffly, wishing there was more I could do to ease the sadness in his eyes. The one thing I could do to show Colin how much I wanted to help him was to investigate the twenty-seven cases. I could only hope that Manny would find some solved cases with similar ballistic reports. It would help greatly to speak to those killers. Also on my list was solving the mystery of the numbers on my arm. But first I was going to start with Professor Susan Kadlec’s unfortunate murder.

Chapter SEVEN

“Did you know that Professor Kadlec had lost most of her savings two years ago?”

I knew from the surprise on Colin’s face that his friendship with this woman had not extended to financial discussions.

“No.” He pulled the chair from his desk closer and sat down. After this morning’s revelations, he had given some excuse about meeting a source and had only returned five minutes ago. It was two minutes to three. He was visibly still shaken by his friend’s death. “The last time I saw her, I got the impression that everything was fine. She had even insisted on paying for an exuberantly expensive dinner.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

“About five months ago. Remember that short trip I took to Prague? Well, I stopped over to spend some time with her.”

The glass doors slid open and Vinnie stepped into the viewing room, as usual not allowing the doors to close again. “Howdy, Jen-girl. What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?”

“I know you are using an expression, because it is very clear that I’m not cooking.” I was too distracted by the smug look on Vinnie’s face to concern myself with understanding his greeting. Something had happened while he and Colin had been away. Something that caused his
occipitalis
and other muscles to put the triumphant look on his face. I turned to Colin. “Did you get any impression that she was stressed about something?”

He thought about it. “No, I really didn’t. She was relaxed and was excited about the summer holidays. What did you find out?”

“While you were away, Francine helped me and we found a lot of information. I’m no longer surprised at how much information people put on social media and other public places. Yet it still amazes me. Most of our discoveries were done this way, the legal way.” I was extraordinarily proud of this. For Susan’s financial information, Francine had had to access her bank account. Of that I wasn’t as proud. “Susan Kadlec didn’t lose her money through some irresponsible investments or fraud. She lost it in a very traditional manner—recession.”

“When the global economic disaster struck the first time, she was financially still very strong,” Francine said from the team room. She must have been listening in on the conversation. A few quiet footsteps and she appeared in the door next to Vinnie. “As the years went on and global finances failed to recover, her savings became increasingly depleted. She was granted a large loan just before the worst of it hit, which made her vulnerable to bankruptcy. I didn’t know her, but I can only imagine that she was going to do whatever she could to not lose everything she had worked for her whole life.”

“She took on extra work.” Colin’s voice was strained, the muscles next to his eyes tense. “Please tell me she didn’t get back into forgeries and she got killed for that.”

“She did get back into forgeries.” I lifted my hands. “Wait, before you jump to conclusions. She was offering her services to authenticate artworks, not to forge them. This is where Francine’s research became a little less legal. I didn’t ask and don’t want to know how she did it, but she found out that Susan had been looking into authenticating a Degas for a museum in Madrid. This museum was acquiring the piece through an art dealer.”

“That painting the prof was checking out,” Vinnie said, “does it have any connection to Colin?”

“Not as far as we could find. The painting, the museum and everyone else seem to be quite separate from this case.” I lifted my index finger. “With the exception of the ballistic evidence of the weapon used to kill her.”

“What I found related to this case is that the dealer was selling the Degas for Tall Freddy.”

“No fucking way!” Vinnie stepped away from the door and towered over Francine. Francine was taller than the average woman, but at just over two meters in height, Vinnie had no problem looking down on Francine. “That guy is brutal.”

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“Freddy Gagliardi is a vicious Italian bastard. A tall, ugly bastard. He runs one of the last organised crime families still standing in southern Italy. He specialises in cocaine and small arms. He brings that shit into Europe, spreads some of it around and sends the rest to the US.”

“Why don’t the police arrest him?” If Vinnie knew this much, surely the police had enough evidence to incarcerate him.

“Because he’s a slimy, slippery, sneaky son of a bitch,” Vinnie said. “He has a lot of the older politicians under his control. He’s a land developer with this stupid reputation of being a kind businessman, looking after his community. Lying bastard.”

“Sounds like Kubanov.” I thought about this for a second and looked at Colin. “He would be the kind of person Kubanov would use to get to you. Do you have any ties to this Tall Freddy?”

“Nothing. I didn’t even know about this guy until now. My field of expertise is art, Jenny. Not organised or violent crimes.” He nodded at Vinnie. “No offence intended, Vin.”

“None taken, dude.”

“Francine found out Tall Freddy wanted to sell the painting to the museum,” I said, getting back on topic. “They wanted to have it vetted by some respected authority.”

“Susan,” Colin said softly.

“Her authentications have become increasingly more respected in the last two years. She was really good at catching the forgeries.”

“It takes one to know one. Okay, so what did she find?”

“Francine found emails from Susan to the art dealer warning him to stay clear of Tall Freddy. When he didn’t respond to the first email, she sent another one. That was the one revealing the probable motive for this crime.” I could only hope that I had adopted the right tone and was using the right words to not add to Colin’s sadness. “Susan discovered that the painting was one of those looted by the Germans during the Second World War. It had never been recovered and to this day is on the FBI’s list of missing artworks.”

“Stolen by the Nazis? My God, Susan would definitely have reported that. Even in the best years of her forgeries, she never had any tolerance for war crimes.”

“It would seem that Tall Freddy didn’t have any tolerance for honest people,” I said. “Have you read the case file?”

Colin shook his head.

“Please do so. Since you knew Susan rather well, there might be something that would help us connect Tall Freddy to other elements of this case.”

“Where was she killed?” Colin’s lips were thinned, a sign of distress.

“In her home. They successfully made it look like a burglary that went awry. He had stolen all her electronic devices, her television and a few other things. It is all listed in the report. She had insured her house and had kept up with the payments, most likely because of the art in her house.”

“Were those things real?” Vinnie asked.

“As far as the report goes, they are authentic, yes.” The
levator labii superioris
muscles raised my top lip in disdain. “Even the smallest painting is worth more than all the large things he stole. He also didn’t even go through her handbag. I’m sure the engraved cigarette box would’ve brought him a large sum. And it would have been easier to sell.”

“What cigarette box?” Colin’s muscles had frozen into an alert stillness. “Do you have photos of that?”

I studied him for a few seconds, then turned to my computer. “It’s all in the file that Manny had sent. I’ll bring it up.”

There was silence in the room until the photo of the silver cigarette box filled one of the ten monitors in front of us. It looked like an antique with intricate engraving on the lid and sides. A beautiful and elegant piece. I did not miss Colin’s gasp, nor did I miss the slight collapse of his torso. “You gave this to her, didn’t you?”

“After she told me that my work with Interpol had inspired her and she had decided to go straight.” For a few seconds he looked away and focussed on the empty wall to our right. “She was a social smoker, only smoking one cigarette a week, maybe even less. Keeping an ugly cigarette pack in her handbag for that purpose was something she refused. So she bought a pack every time she wanted to smoke one. When I gave her this box, she was crazy about it. It was elegant and large enough for five cigarettes.”

“Think hard, Colin. Are you sure there is nothing that connects you and her to this case?” There was too much coincidence for my liking.

“I’ll read the case file and think about it, but I honestly cannot think of anything that would’ve led Kubanov to her.”

“Tell me about this connection you have with Susan Kadlec.” Manny stepped into the viewing room, his brow lowered into a scowl.

“She was my friend.” There was no confrontation or apology in Colin’s tone or body language.

“Sorry to hear that, Frey. Care to tell me why you didn’t disclose this earlier?”

It didn’t take much debating for me to convince Colin that Manny needed to know everything we knew. Reluctantly he relayed his history with Susan Kadlec. I added a few facts Colin had left out as his emotions caused him to become more withdrawn.

“We definitely need to see if there is more of a connection than ballistics.”

“As soon as we can speak to some of the killers from the other cases, we should ask them about their weapons
and
about the cocaine.”

Manny’s nostrils flared. “Firstly, missy, there will be no ‘we’. You will not be going anywhere near these people. Secondly, why do you want to ask them about drugs?”

“We’ve told you about Tall Freddy’s involvement in Susan Kadlec’s murder. I’m wondering if he might be a connecting factor between all these cases.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s just first find some killers to interrogate, shall we?” Manny looked at Colin and nodded towards the team room as he sat down in the chair he always claimed in my viewing room. “I brought the McCarthy painting. Now you can tell us if it’s the original or yours.”

“Ooh, I want to see it.” Francine’s enthusiasm startled everyone. “Where is it?”

“On my desk.” Manny had barely finished his sentence when Francine left the room. She returned seconds later holding the painting away from her body, looking at it with the most beautiful smile. A genuine smile.

“It’s stunning.” She handed it over to Colin. “I totally get why you wanted this in your home. Isn’t it just supercool that Genevieve also has this in her apartment?”

“Explain.” Manny glared at me as if I had committed a crime.

“If you are such a great detective, you would’ve seen this painting in my bedroom.” I lost some of my annoyance watching Colin. He was turning the painting in all directions and studying the frame. “I love Braque’s work, but this one especially. Since it was not for sale, and even if it was I could not afford it, I had a reproduction made by a reputable artist.”

Everyone stared at me. Even Colin looked away from the painting to stare at me. “Jenny, there is no such thing as a reputable reproduction artist. What that person is doing is forgery with his name on it. If he or she can do that, they can also paint it without their name on it.”

I took a moment to consider this. After working with these people, I truly should no longer be this naïve. “You are right.”

“Aw, Jen-girl, don’t look so sad. At least you got yours the legal way. My man here didn’t even put his name on the painting he did for his safe house. The one that was stolen. Hey, dude, is this baby yours?” Vinnie forgot about my discomfort and turned to Colin.

“The painting is mine, the frame not.”

I looked at the frame around this forged masterpiece. It was a large dark wood frame with gold plating on the inside, the wood itself approximately twenty centimetres wide and easily ten centimetres thick on the outside. I wondered why there was a need for such an elaborate frame. The painting’s beauty was enough for me to have chosen a simple frame. This one had to be very heavy if it was solid wood.

No matter how interesting the frame was, my eyes kept straying back to the painting. It was by far one of my favourite artworks. What sent a small shot of adrenaline through my system was the tiny rust-coloured spots on the left-hand side of the painting. My stomach felt hollow at the remnants of such violence. It was hard to tell if there was dried blood on the wooden frame.

“What was wrong with the frame you had?” I asked.

“I suppose they had to change the frame to match the one in Kathleen McCarthy’s house.” The lack of confrontation in Manny’s conduct was odd. I was watching him for more cues as to ascertain intention. “The lab did all the tests they could—”

“Why didn’t they remove the painting from the frame?” Colin turned the back of the painting towards Manny. “My God, your people really are CSI wannabes.”

The
masseter
muscles controlling Manny’s jaw tightened. When he spoke it was through his teeth. “If you’d allowed me to finish my sentence, you would’ve heard that I had asked them to only do topical tests. I didn’t want to remove anything in case you could see something they didn’t know to look for.”

“Oh.” Colin looked chagrined. “Well, I doubt there would be much evidence on here in any case.”

“What do you suggest we do with the painting now, Frey?”

“I’ll take this one to my friend as well.”

“The friend who owes you only one favour? You lied, didn’t you?”