The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (5 page)

A portly man rushed towards us. “Are you the specialised team? Are you the people who will find these… these
barbarians? Why would they break into my museum and steal my art?”

“Did those paintings belong to you?” Why had Henri Fabron not told us this?

When the short man huffed, his stomach jounced. “All the paintings, all the art in my museum get treated as if they were mine.”

“And you are?” Manny had on his disinterest persona.

“Rémy Bonfils, the curator of this museum.” He dismissed Manny after a quick glance at Manny’s oversized and wrinkled coat, and turned to Colin. “What are you doing to get my art back?”

“I’m Sydney Goddphin. Pleased to meet you.” Colin took a step closer to Monsieur Bonfils and shook the curator’s hand. The curator evaluated Colin’s dark winter slacks, his designer coat and expensive Italian boots. I supposed Colin’s attire qualified him better as an art theft investigator than Manny’s. People’s irrational prejudices amused me. Colin blinked twice at me and stepped away with the curator. “I can guarantee you that my team is doing everything in our power to solve this heinous crime as soon as possible. Now if you could be so kind as to tell me exactly what
happened.”

Manny watched Colin lead the man to the far side of the room. I didn’t observe any animosity. Only calculation. “That Frey is a dangerous player.”

“Colin doesn’t take part in any sports, except for jogging and some body-building.”

“I mean he is a dangerously good liar, Doc.” Manny turned to me. “At least we can now walk through this ark and see what happened.”

“Firstly, this is not an ark. And secondly, you are also an exceptional liar, Manny. Your skills with Henri Fabron impressed me.”

“Don’t make too much of it, Doc. I just wanted to get him off our backs. That little wet-behind-the-ears twerp has been riding my arse since the day the president got this team together.” Manny only ever lapsed into metaphors when he was distracted or extremely angry.

“Why are you distracted?”

“What makes you… never mind.” He nodded to the staircase. “Let’s go look where the thief entered and took Monsieur Bonfils’ paintings.”

The foot of the staircase was almost in the centre of the room, leading up to the first floor. A wide balcony ran along three sides, with views onto the floor below. From the balcony, doors led into separate rooms, each holding different parts of the exhibitions. The second and third floors were accessed by a different staircase.

“Have you been here before, Doc?”

“I was here seven months ago.” I reached the top of the staircase and looked around. “Everything looks the same so far.”

“Tell me if you see something out of place.” Manny waved over a police officer who had come out of one of the rooms. “Where is the scene of the crime?”

“Upstairs, sir.” The officer pointed to the ceiling. “It is the room closest to the street.”

“Thanks.” Manny and I walked to the beautiful staircase. It was grandiose and appealed to my sense of the aesthetic. The stairs were covered in thick red carpeting, the edges showing slight wear from the many people who had gone to the next floor. We reached the next level and it was easy to see where the crime scene was. People were milling around, some dressed in white disposable coveralls, everyone wearing gloves.

After establishing that the crime scene investigators had released the scene, we entered the room to the right of the landing. Close to the windows, three men were in a deep discussion, but stopped the moment they saw us.

“Do you have permission to be here? Who are you?” The largest of the men walked towards us, his chest puffed out, his arms away from his body and his hands fisted.

“Agent Manfred Millard and this is my associate Doctor Genevieve Lenard. We are here to assist in this case.” Even though Manny’s shoulders were still hunched over, the
masseter
muscles in his jaw tensed and he huffed softly.

“Oh, thank God.” The man turned back to his colleagues. “Let’s get out of here, guys.”

Manny lifted one hand to stop them. “We need to know what you know before you hand over the scene.”

“Of course. We’re just really keen to get back to our weekend.” The large man closed his eyes for a second. He looked tired. “I have nineteen open cases on my desk at the moment and am very happy to hand this one over to someone else.”

“Okay, so fill me in.” The authority in Manny’s tone left no freedom for arguments.

“It seems like he came through the back door, the one from the alley.”

One of the other men walked closer, his body language less fatigued. “He picked the lock so well that only tiny scratches are visible. We don’t know yet how he managed to disable the alarm system, but the system shows he did it in twenty-three seconds. We’re thinking he is a professional.”

“Is there any security video footage?” This was my forte and I was curious to see if everyone was correct in their assumptions that the thief was a man. Statistically, the probability was high.

“We’re waiting for the curator to copy it now. We haven’t looked at it yet.”

“So you also don’t know the route he took through the museum.” I was surprised at their confused expressions and had to remind myself that not everyone had the thinking patterns I did. “If he—and we are all working on a gross assumption that it is a man—came directly to this room, took the paintings and left, it would indicate that he knew what he wanted to steal and where it was. If I could look at the footage, I would be able to tell whether he was conflicted about his loot, whether he wanted to take more, but couldn’t. I really need to see that footage.”

“Ah, you’re
that
Doctor Lenard,” the large man said, smiling. “The one who can tell your future by just looking at your wrinkles.”

“That’s absurd. No one can predict the future, much less by analysing—”

“Doc, he’s joking.” This was one of the select few times the
zygomaticus
muscles around Manny’s mouth twitched. Manny didn’t smile often. I didn’t understand why he was amused. “The doc is right though. We need that video. We can determine height and weight at the least, and at best Doc here can tell his future.”

I sucked my lips in between my teeth and bit down to refrain from correcting Manny. It was clear he was bantering with the other men, building rapport. I tried. I really did, but after twelve seconds, I simply couldn’t hold it in any more. “I cannot tell anyone’s future. It is impossible. People who believe that are naïve and ignorant.”

“I know, Doc.” Manny surprised me by winking at me.

It took me a millisecond to decipher his behaviour. “You were teasing me.”

“I’ll make a detective of you yet.” Manny turned back to the men who were shifting from one foot to the next. They were impatient to leave. A few questions later, I realised they had nothing more of value to add and I walked to the centre of the room.

Across the doorway was the longest wall with the most paintings. Except now there were three paintings missing. The wall to my right had two empty spaces, and directly next to the doorway was another obvious gap in the exhibition. The remaining paintings were from masters like Van Gogh, Rembrandt and Botticelli. Surely the thief would’ve done well taking those paintings as well.

Soft footsteps stopped next to me and I glanced to my side. Colin was staring at the same empty spaces.

“Why choose those specific paintings?” I asked. “Are they more valuable than these hanging here?”

“All of these are valuable. They could’ve taken any six paintings from these walls and it would’ve been a nice day’s work.”

“Then why those six?”

“A good question, Jenny.” Colin’s shrug was slight. “It could mean something. Or it could mean nothing.”

“You’re right. Speculating about it is a waste of time. We should get the video footage and get back to the office so I can analyse it.” I turned to face him, took note of his expression and leaned closer to him. “What do you know?”

He closed his eyes, huffing a small laugh. When he looked at me, it was with affection. “You really see too much, love. And I mean this in the most positive way possible.”

“I didn’t think it was negative.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He smiled. “To answer your question, I have a strong suspicion, but I know how you feel about speculation. I suggest we get back to your viewing room to check out those videos. Maybe then I can confirm my suspicions and tell you.”

I leaned a bit closer and spoke quietly, respecting Colin’s need for confidentiality. “Does this have something to do with the phone call you received?”

“Yes and no.”

“That is not an answer.” I hated it when he didn’t give me clear answers. His expression told me I was not going to get anything better than that. “Do you know this thief?”

He sighed. “Maybe. A few things the curator said and especially the method of entry sounds like someone I know.”

“Well then, let’s stop faffing about and get back,” Manny said from a few feet away. I hadn’t heard him come closer. “And you better tell me every bloody thing you know, Frey.”

Manny walked into the foyer of Rousseau & Rousseau, looking back to make sure we were following him. His strides were long and purposeful, his face conveying his disapproval. He was grumbling about Colin not sharing everything he knew as he learned it.

We followed Manny into the team room and walked over to the round table where Vinnie and Nikki were sitting. Manny, however, didn’t stop until he stood in front of Francine’s desk. She was, as usual, working on the three computers she had running simultaneously. She glanced up and immediately returned to her computers when she saw Manny glaring at her. The
orbicularis oculi
muscles around her eyes and the muscles around her mouth told me that she was having fun at Manny’s expense.

A full minute passed while Francine worked on the computers, her face and body relaxed. Manny’s posture was becoming increasingly rigid, his breathing louder through flared nostrils. Vinnie and Colin had once watched a movie with a scene where two cars were racing towards each other as if planning a head-on collision. Vinnie had called it playing chicken. This situation between Manny and Francine was reminding me of that scene and I wondered who was going to concede first.

“For Pete’s sake, supermodel!” Manny slammed both hands down on Francine’s desk and leaned closer to her. “Talk to me.”

Francine finished typing something, clicked with the mouse a few times before she slowly lifted her eyes to meet Manny’s. “Hey, sexy. What do you want to talk about?”

“I want you to talk about the security in this room.” Tension was causing Manny’s throat to constrict, making the words sound strangled.

“All the computers are secure.” Her voice had the same tone she used when she was flirting with the waiter at her favourite wine bar. I had visited that establishment with her on two occasions. She lowered her eyelashes and slowly lifted them again, a typical nonverbal flirtation indicator. “I double-checked all the computers as soon as you guys left. Nothing managed to get past my supergeek security.”

“And do the walls have ears, little girl?” Manny only resorted to this name-calling when he was really annoyed with her.

Francine’s eyes widened and she threw her hands up, feigning sudden recall. “Oh my, how did I forget about that? Hah! Gotcha. We checked and found three bugs in this room.”

Manny straightened and looked down at Francine, the corners of his mouth turned down. “Stop screwing around with me. Tell me exactly what you found.”

“We found the bugs in all the places that weird man was,” Nikki said as she stood up. She walked over to Manny and put her arm through his. “You make it too easy for Francine to tease you.”

Manny turned to Nikki, none of the annoyance present on his face. “You helped them look for the bugs?”

“I found one.” Her shoulders pulled back and her chin lifted. “Vinnie said I would make a great spy.”

“But she’s never going to be one. Right, punk?”

“Sure,
Vin. I don’t want to stress like you guys do.” Nikki pulled Manny’s arm and led him to the table. “Let Francine finish what she’s doing. I’ll tell you about the bugs. We found one on the doorframe where Weirdo was leaning, one under the table where he was sitting and one under Francine’s chair.”

“The chair he was sitting on,” Manny said. “Bastard.”

“That’s what Vinnie also said.” Nikki glanced at Vinnie. “And a few other things.”

When Nikki had first come into our lives, Francine had been very strict about the use of language. She didn’t want curse words used around Nikki. Her intent had been noble, but realistically it was impractical to expect of these men to eliminate swearing. I had noticed their efforts in toning down the use of strong language.

“Well? Did you disable all the bugs?” Manny asked.

“I crushed them,” Vinnie said with a cruel smile.

“Okay, listen carefully.” Manny turned back to Francine. “You too, supermodel.”

“I’m listening, handsome. I’m very good at multitasking.”

“Hmph. From now on we must be careful what we say, where we say it, and which computers we use for what. Supermodel will make sure that these two rooms and Doc’s apartment are clear of any electronic surveillance at all times.” Manny waited for Francine to nod before he continued. “This means that until we solve these cases, we only discuss it in here and at Doc’s apartment.”

“What about our cars?” I discussed a few of my ideas with Colin whenever we were travelling together.

“Too big a risk,” Francine said. “It’s easier to control access to buildings, but the moment you park your car on the street, an innocent-looking pedestrian can easily place a magnetised bug somewhere on the car. We’d have to sweep the cars all the time. Too impractical.”

I saw the logic in Francine’s argument. “I will refrain from talking in the car.”

“Supermodel will tell you which computers you can use for research, but use your Interpol access only from one computer and be very careful what you look for on the Interpol system.”

Francine got up and slowly walked to Manny. She was wearing a brown leather skirt stopping mid-thigh, dark brown tights and high-heeled boots that covered her knees. Her cream silk shirt was more costly than the last three first-edition collector’s books I had bought combined. I had been with her when she had chosen that shirt. But it wasn’t her outfit, her exotic looks or her beautiful hair that caught my attention. It was the way she walked towards Manny. On the National Geographic channel, I had witnessed it numerous times when predators stalked their prey.

“Manny.” She stopped in front of him and ran a manicured nail down the collar of his jacket. Her voice was husky, her mouth a slight pout. “You know just how to turn me on. Please tell me why we are playing little computer games with Interpol. Or even better, tell me that we are going to screw over one of the Big Brothers like the NSA.”

“Get off me, Delilah.” Manny pushed her hand away, but she brought up her other hand and played with his earlobe.

“Come on, you sexy animal. That’s not what you said last night.”

“Bloody hell, woman.” His face flushed, Manny grabbed both her hands and pushed her until she had to take a step back to regain her balance. “Stay away from me, you evil siren.”

“Look at you flirting with me.” Francine failed to control her enjoyment and laughed. “Nikki is right, you know. You make this too easy. Now could you please tell us why we should be so careful? I mean, we all know the government is constantly spying on us with huge dragnets, but you’ve never been paranoid like this. Am I bringing you over to my side?”

Manny sat down at the round table and gestured at the empty seats with both hands. He waited until everyone was seated. “Henri Fabron is toying with me. I don’t like when someone thinks he can dupe me. His visit and those bloody bugs prove to me that he is trying to hide something about Savreux. He’s really stupid if he thinks his orders are going to get us to stay away from looking into Savreux’s death.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell him about Nikki’s direct messages?” I asked.

“That’s one of the reasons, yes.” Manny was all business now. There was no fake slouch, no pretend ignorance. “I also don’t want him to as much as glance in Nikki’s direction. He’s a politician—”

“And we don’t trust politicians,” Francine said.

“—and they always look for easy scapegoats,” Manny said, glaring at Francine. He looked at me. “Doc?”

“I know what a scapegoat is.”

“Good.” Manny nodded. “Since we still don’t know anything about who’s sending those bloody direct email messages, and why they are sending it, I think it is better that little Henri doesn’t know about it. Once we have enough information, we will take it to the president.”

“Do you trust him in this?” I asked.

“I don’t trust anyone, Doc.” He scowled when I inhaled to point out his lie. “With the exception of you and Nikki.”

“You trust me?” The lightness in Nikki’s tone indicated her surprise and pleasure.

“Yes, I do. More than I trust these criminals.”

I could see that everyone knew Manny was lying. Manny knew everyone was aware of his untruth. These people were so strongly opposed to being clear and honest with their emotions. I considered life much less complicated with honesty.

“Supermodel?” Manny waited until Francine looked at him. “Stop painting your nails and find out who the bleeding hell is sending Nikki those email thingies.”

Francine raised one eyebrow. “Even with wet nails, I can do more on a computer than you.”

“Then do it. Back to your question, Doc. Up to now, the president has not given us any reason to distrust him. Henri Fabron has given me more than enough reason to wait before I include him in any discoveries.”

“So, do you want us to look into Savreux’s death or today’s art theft?” Colin asked.

“We are going to do it all.” Manny leaned forward and started counting on his fingers. “We are going to find out everything about Savreux so we can figure out why he was murdered. We are going to figure out who murdered him. We are going to find out everything we can about the 1990 Gardner museum heist and figure out if and how it fits in with Savreux and today’s heist. We are also going to look into today’s heist. My gut tells me that they are all connected if we look closely enough.”

“What about little Henri?” Vinnie asked. “Want me to see what he’s up to? And Lefebvre? He’s also pushing hard with his prosecutors and stuff. Should I check him out too?”

Manny leaned slightly back, his eyes briefly shifting up and to the right. He shook his head. “No. Not yet. Let’s first see what this will bring us. Then you can contact some of your goons and check those two out.”

“Just say when.” Vinnie reclined deeper in his chair, satisfied.

“Now let’s start with those direct messages. Nikki.” Gone was the gentle affection Manny had shown towards the student earlier. “The next time you receive anything suspicious, you come directly to me. Am I clear?”

Nikki’s face had lost colour at Manny’s tone, but she didn’t hunch her shoulders and cross her arms in a full-body hug like she had done when she first came to us. “I told you that I didn’t think anything of it until the last DM.”

“And you went to Frey.”

“He was sitting right next to me on the sofa.” She crossed her arms. It wasn’t a full-body hug. It was a blocking gesture. “You weren’t there.”

“My number is in your phone. I was there.”

“Colin was closer.”

“Stop badgering her, Millard. She did what she thought best at that moment.”

“And then you went off to go and check it out without telling anyone about this. Was that what you thought best at that moment?” Manny had a valid point, but I didn’t want to exacerbate an already tense situation by taking Manny’s side. The last seven weeks’ tension returned in full force. I wished Phillip wasn’t in a meeting elsewhere. He would’ve effortlessly calmed everyone down.

“This is not a productive conversation,” I said. “Instead of wasting time talking about what should’ve been done, can we rather talk about what
can
be done?”

“It is productive, Doc.” Manny took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. “You people need to understand that I cannot help you if I don’t know what is happening. Nikki, I cannot protect you if you don’t tell me things.”

“Sorry, Manny. I’ll tell you next time.” She lowered her head and mumbled, “After I tell Colin who will be sitting next to me on the sofa.”

“Point made, young lady. As long as you tell me. Now can someone give me more information on Savreux? What do we know about him?”

“Before we had our team meeting this morning, I got more information on Savreux’s personal life,” I said. “How detailed do you want this to be?”

“A broad overview and only the points you think might be relevant to our cases.” Often Manny became extremely frustrated when he asked me to tell him everything and I did. We had agreed on starting reports by first inquiring about the depth of the information needed.

“Understood. A quick overview is that Claude Savreux was born in 1952 in Lyon, France to middle-class parents. He went to public schools, but proved that he was an exceptional student. His parents sent him to the best university they could afford, but soon didn’t have to pay since he got scholarships. He studied Economics and International Politics, but changed to law later on, and graduated in the top of his classes every time.

“His first job was as a legal intern in one of the top legal companies in Paris. They had recruited him from university. Very quickly, he worked his way up. He was working there for two years when he met his wife. They got married after eighteen months and had their first child a year later. It was their only child and he died at the age of nine in an accident at school. It was winter when he and his friends were playing around on the ice on the school grounds. He slipped and hit his head hard against a step and died.”

“That’s really sad,” Nikki said.

“It is.” Francine sighed. “I don’t know how anyone can recover from the death of a child.”

“I don’t think Savreux and his wife did,” I said. “According to the newspaper articles and few magazine articles I read, Minister Savreux’s wife said that she was never able to accept the death of her child. He lost himself in his work and left her to deal with this alone. For almost a decade after the child’s death, he spent most of his time at work. He had just started rebuilding his relationship with his wife when she was diagnosed with cancer. She died sixteen years ago.” I took a deep breath when I realised that I was giving too much irrelevant information. “Minister Savreux never remarried, but has been in relationships with numerous models, celebrities and prominent businesswomen.”