The Courbet Connection (Book 5) (Genevieve Lenard) (3 page)

“And we need to check your information,” Manny said. “You’re going to have to give us more than the name of an artist and a dark net.”

Caelan took plenty of time preparing an answer. After a minute, Manny became impatient, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Caelan looked up, his eyes bright. “Tell Francine that Silk Road has a repeat. Not Silk Road 2.0, 2.1 or even 3.0. It’s a whole new place.”

“What the bleeding hell does that mean?”

Caelan pressed his lips together, again staring at the far wall. The three men tried numerous methods of coaxing something else from him, but he simply sat in the chair rocking.

Three more minutes of this and I went to my viewing room. I planned to get another two hours of work in before I went home. Colin had said he would meet me at home for dinner. Hopefully, he would be able to give more insight into Caelan’s scant revelations.

I opened the door to my apartment, stepped into my haven and stopped in horror. To the right of the door was a coat tree. Under the coat tree was a special mat I had bought for shoes. It was that space that sped up my heart rate and breathing. Three pairs of sneakers were thoughtlessly dropped there in disarray. One pair was larger than the other two, obviously a man’s shoes. They were well worn and dirty in a way that sent a shudder through my whole body.

Chatter coming from deeper inside my apartment forced my eyes away from the disturbing lack of neat arrangement at the front door. Beyond the sitting area to my right, three young people were seated around my dining room table. They were involved in a passionate discussion. I closed the door behind me and walked deeper into the large open-space living area.

Three empty pizza boxes, open cans of cola and scattered papers and books made it impossible for me to pay any attention to the topic of discussion. I swallowed at the strong compulsion to snatch the greasy boxes from my solid wood table top and start an intensive cleaning session. I had planned on coming home and enjoying a cup of calming camomile tea. Not standing a few feet away from three students debating some issue while desecrating my immaculate apartment.

Sitting in my usual seat at the table, Nikki was pointing her finger at a young man. The young woman had come into our lives a year ago under difficult circumstances. Since then, she’d changed from an adolescent not sure of herself into a caring and
confident young woman. She had surprised me by being quite an easy housemate. Generally.

When she’d chosen to study art out of all her other options, I’d supported and encouraged her. We had mutually agreed that I wouldn’t enter her bedroom. She needed that space to express her artistic soul, she’d said. She also enjoyed using her ‘artistic soul’ as an excuse for being melodramatic. Like now. Only when I reached the table did they notice my presence.

“Oh, you’re home!” Nikki sat up in her chair, her eyes widening briefly. That involuntary nonverbal cue happened not only when we were surprised, but also when we were pleased to see someone. I saw the exact moment she registered my expression and concluded the cause of it. She grabbed a pile of papers in front of her and tried to straighten them. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Doc G. We were studying and kinda lost track of time. I really meant to clean up before you came. How was your day?”

I could not answer her. The overpowering need to grab the papers from her ineffective shaking prevented me from forming any words.

“Doc G? These are my friends, Rebecca and Michael. I’ve told you about them before.” Tension caused her voice to rise in pitch. Nikki frowned and glanced at the two young people staring at me with a combination of interest and discomfort. She dropped the papers in an untidy heap, stood up and walked around the table until she stood in front of me. She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Doc G? Look at me?”

Her snapping fingers annoyed me. “Don’t do that.”

The
zygomaticus
muscles pulled her generous mouth into a wide smile. “At least I got your attention. We’ll clean up in another two minutes. But first, please meet my friends.”

It was clear on her face how much this meant to her. She was not the only one who had changed in the last year. Her presence in my life, in my apartment, had taught me that there were times
when others’ needs took precedence over my own. No matter how compulsive that desire was to put order to the many papers on the table. And to ensure there were no stains from the pizza boxes.

I closed my eyes and mentally played the first line of Mozart’s Horn Concerto No.3 in E-Flat minor. There were times when Mozart was my closest link to serenity. Whether I mentally wrote a concerto or played it in my mind, it always succeeded in grounding me. The few seconds of perfect harmony were enough to put order to my thoughts and change my focus. I turned to the table and Nikki’s two friends.

“This is Rebecca.” Nikki waved her arm at the lanky girl, who straightened from her slouched position and wiped her hands on her lime-green skirt. Rubbing one’s thighs was pacifying behaviour. Rebecca was uncomfortable. It was confirmed when she tugged at the hem of her multi-coloured shirt. Nikki took a step closer to her friend. “She’s the one who made us all look bad with her amazeballs sculpture that won the Pierre DuPreez award.”

The pride in Nikki’s voice made me pay close attention to her friend. I looked at the awkward young woman and saw the intelligence in her eyes. “Good afternoon, Rebecca.”

“Hi, Doc G. I’ve heard so much about you.” Her hand flew to her throat. “Can I call you Doc G? Should I call you Doctor Genevieve? No! Doctor Lenard? Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

I blinked a few times at her nervous behaviour. “Doc G is acceptable.”

“Phew. Thanks.” Her genuine smile lifted her cheeks and crinkled the corners of her eyes. She turned to the young man next to her. “At least now you also know what to call her.”

“This is—”

“I’m Michael Civitelli,” the young man interrupted Nikki. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Doc G. Nikki talks about you all the time.”

People blushed when they were embarrassed, excited, or in the throes of passion. The colour on Nikki’s cheeks was from pleasure. More frequently I’d been seeing the accompanying expression of contentment. It affected me. She had brought many new challenges into my life. She’d also brought new emotions. An emotion that I’d come to associate with Nikki softened my annoyance.

“She only says good things about you, Doc G.” Rebecca’s quick addition was accompanied by concern.

“Why should she only say good things?” I looked at Nikki. “Did you lie to them?”

Nikki laughed. “No, I didn’t. I told them that you’re a pain in my butt. But I also told them how cool you are.”

Tempted to go into yet another discussion about Nikki’s vocabulary and incorrect descriptions, I reminded myself to remain socially aware of this situation. It was important to her. I nodded at the young man. “Good afternoon, Michael.”

Amusement briefly lifted the corners of his mouth before he made an effort to neutralise his expression. I wondered why he had thought my polite greeting was humorous, but decided not to ask him. “What are you studying? Are you studying?”

“We were.” Nikki glanced at the papers on the table. “We’re taking a test on art history and Rebecca is making it much more interesting. She’s smart, putting all the different events and dates together. We’re the daft ones.”

My eyes narrowed. “I don’t know Michael, but you’re not daft. Don’t deprecate yourself.”

“Okay.” Nikki drew out the word while smiling sweetly. “Changing topics. Maybe you can settle an argument for us.”

“I don’t think that is wise.” Only once had I tried to interfere in an argument between Vinnie and Francine. Siding with Vinnie regarding complementary spices to a dish had only heightened the tension and had given Francine more irrational points to add to her line of reasoning. After a lengthy discussion with Colin, I had concluded that staying neutral, but especially silent, was a judicious course of action.

“Bah!” Nikki waved one hand. “Michael doesn’t think Pascal was kidnapped, but Rebecca and I are convinced that no one disappears out of the blue like this.”

My eyes had strayed to the pizza boxes again, but Nikki’s convoluted babbling had me turning to her with a frown pulling my brows together. “What are you talking about?”

“Pascal Brami,” she said in a tone indicating that the name should be enough for me. I maintained my bemused expression until she threw her hands in the air. “You weren’t listening last night, were you?”

“Did you address me directly? Was it a topic of interest?”

“No. Yes. I told Vinnie about this while he was cooking last night. You were sitting right here.” She sighed dramatically. “You were writing Mozart in your head again, weren’t you?”

“His Clarinet Concerto in A major.”

Michael’s expression was changing from entertained to perplexed. I shook my head to get away from this asinine discussion. “What did you tell Vinnie last night?” Nikki inhaled, but held her breath when I lifted my index finger. “Please keep it factual and in chronological order.”

Michael leaned forward when Nikki exhaled on an unladylike snort. “Uhm, maybe I could tell this fairy tale?”

I studied the male student. Even though his hair was cut in a neat style, it stood in all directions as if he hadn’t combed it. His clothes looked clean enough, but possibly had been picked out of a pile of clean laundry. An interesting inconsistency was
his thick textbook and the neat pile of papers on top of it. Several colourful tags serving as placeholders stuck out of the textbook, placed equidistant from each other.

I nodded to him. “Please tell me about Pascal.”

Nikki fell into her chair. “He’s going to make it sound silly.”

“Because it
is
silly, Nikkidee.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Pascal has a reputation around campus as a… party animal.”

My eyes narrowed. “Your expression and the long pause tell me that there is some hidden meaning to ‘party animal’. Please explain.”

He glanced at Nikki. She nodded impatiently and waved him on.

“Okay then. Pascal experiments with everything. Drugs, girls, boys, everything. Even within the art student groups, he doesn’t have a good reputation. He’s a bit too wild.”

“When he’s on drugs, he’s kinda okay, but alcohol makes him aggressive.” Nikki’s soft addition caused my throat to tighten.

I bit down on the insides of my lips to prevent myself from speaking before thinking it through. It took me ten seconds of awkward silence to organise my thoughts. I slowly turned to Nikki and schooled my nonverbal cues to communicate care, not the all-consuming concern I felt. “Please tell me you weren’t around him when he was using drugs or drunk. Or that you were using.”

“I didn’t use. And I was only around him once when he was like that.” Nikki tilted her head towards Rebecca. “We were all at a house party just after the holidays. As soon as Pascal started acting out, Rebecca and I left.”

Nikki was telling the truth. The feeling of a vice tightening around my chest eased and I let out a shaky breath. “I need you to be careful, Nikki.”

“I am, Doc G. Pascal is a really nice guy when he’s not drinking or high. He’s also really smart and we enjoy his company, but usually it’s just the three of us hanging out.” She leaned forward, exposing her face for my inspection. “We’re careful and we look out for each other.”

The other two responded with excessive verbal and nonverbal confirmation. Their truthfulness should’ve sufficed, but with Nikki, my emotions sometimes overrode all rationality. It took tremendous control not to pursue this topic any further. “I believe you. Now tell me why I needed to know about Pascal’s narcotics use.”

“Because I think that he’s on a binge somewhere and the girls think that he’s been abducted by aliens,” Michael said.

“We don’t think that, you dork.” Rebecca pulled her shoulders back and looked at me. “Pascal parties really hard, but he never misses ceramics. He might miss any other class, but never this one. He rocks anything to do with ceramics and he tries to get in as much theory and practice as possible. When he wasn’t in class today for the second day in a row, I asked our professor and he said that this week was the first time ever Pascal didn’t show up for class.”

“That is not enough reason to think he’s been kidnapped.” I pulled out a dining room chair and sat down, consciously keeping my eyes averted from the chaos on the table. “Do you have any evidence to support your suspicions?”

Nikki’s shoulders pulled halfway up to her ears. “Uhm… Rebecca and I went to his flat this afternoon. His flatmate said that Pascal hasn’t been home in three days. We went into his room and saw a half-eaten sandwich and a full mug of coffee next to his open laptop. It was as if he left in the middle of something. As if he was taken.”

Michael blew through his lips and leaned back in his chair. “See, Doc G? Not enough to think that he was kidnapped. He could’ve just upped and left for a party when someone phoned him.”

“I agree. Your suspicions don’t have a solid base, Nikki.”

“Aw, come on, Doc G.” Nikki folded her arms. “Don’t take Michael’s side. He didn’t read the articles about the other kidnappings.”