Art and Murder

by Don Easton

  “Pretend to share common interests to gain her trust,” Otto put in.

  “Something you do to attract women?” Laura asked him, pretending annoyance.

  “With these eyes?” Otto pointed to them again. “Not necessary.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Laura snorted. “How could I forget?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want inquiries made in Russia?” asked Yves.

  “No,” Jack said. “His prominence in Russian society may result in word getting back to him. Besides, I already know a lot about him. He’s a philanthropist, an art collector, his wife died of cancer, he’s a bit of a risk taker, and he’s a sportsman who likes to hunt.”

  “There was nothing sporting about how Kerin was murdered,” said Maurice bitterly.

  Everyone nodded silently. Jack continued, “The point is, I’ve got plenty to work with to help me befriend him.”

  “You shouldn’t have any trouble portraying a risk taker.” Laura’s tone was dry. Then she turned to Yves. “How about I make the inquiries regarding Carina? I’ve worked undercover with Jack for years, and a woman’s point of view about her background may prove useful.”

  “Why not?” Yves said. “You’ll likely have as much influence with Interpol and the Swiss as I do.”

  “She was born in Sweden,” Jack said, “but her parents moved to Zurich when she was a child. Her father and mother both worked in the chocolate industry. She mentioned she went back to Stockholm and lived with her aunt and uncle for five years while she went to university. Then she moved back to Zurich, but often returns to Stockholm. Besides English, she’s fluent in German, French, Italian —”

  “All three of those are official languages in Switzerland,” Yves said, “although English is common there, too.”

  Jack nodded. “On top of that, she also speaks Russian and Spanish.”

  “I’ll contact Interpol tonight,” Laura said. “Have them check with Sweden and Switzerland.”

  “She’s a smart woman,” noted Otto, “as well as beautiful. You should enjoy the coming week.”

  Jack nodded agreement, but his eyes said otherwise.

  Laura knew what he was thinking. Don’t worry about it, Jack. She’s a big girl and it won’t be the first time some guy has lied to her. Besides, it’s only for a week, then you can send her on her way.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The following morning Carina arrived at Jack’s hotel in a taxi, and then the two of them headed for the airport. The eleven-twenty flight from Paris to Marseille was on time.

  Their conversation was mostly small talk until they were airborne, and then Carina said, “Roche gave me a rough figure of what you are willing to spend on a villa. There aren’t a lot of places in the high-end price range you gave, but the agent said she had two places to show us this afternoon and four tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” replied Jack. “I’m still suffering jet lag and that’s plenty to see for now.”

  He sensed that Carina was studying him. What now?

  “Roche never gave me any idea of what, uh, special features you’re looking for,” she said, “or any concerns you may have.”

  Concerns? Right. It’s hard for homes to have the perfect conditions for paintings that museums can have, but what are the basics? He stifled a yawn, then said, “Well, as far as concerns go, I would want a high-tech security system, along with the proper controls in place to ensure there are no excessive levels of cold, heat, dryness, or moisture.”

  “Spending that much money, you would expect to be comfortable,” said Carina. “That goes without saying.”

  “Of course, but it’s also for my personal property.”

  “Ah, yes, of course. Your art collection.” She sounded as if she hadn’t thought of it.

  “Yes, that,” Jack said. “I realize a home can’t duplicate a museum. What is it they strive for? Twenty-one degrees Celsius and forty-five percent humidity?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Naturally, I would also be wary if there were signs of insects. I would expect the structure to be sound in that regard. I would hate to awaken in the night to the sound of lice or moths eating away at the frames and canvases of my collection.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how often that happens,” said Carina. “Even if the insects don’t attack the paintings, their droppings contain acid that can damage the paint.”

  “Which, I suppose helps keep you employed,” Jack suggested. “Hope you don’t carry a jar of bugs around with you.”

  Carina laughed lightly. “No, but I can see your profession as a consultant causes you to think of innovative ideas to improve one’s profit margin.”

  Okay, Carina, time to put you in your place. Jack’s voice hardened as he asked, “Is that enough testing in that area, or do you have more questions?”

  Carina’s face reddened. “I’m sorry. Was I that obvious?”

  “Yes. I wish you would tell me when you feel the need to do that. It would make having a conversation with you more pleasant if I knew you were being honest.”

  Carina hung her head in shame. “I know. I’m sorry. I told you I would make a lousy spy. I hate this. I want it over and done with.”

  “Really? It’s like an all-expenses-paid holiday.”

  Carina twisted her body to face Jack. “It’s not that,” she said.

  “Then what?”

  “It’s … it’s that I like you, and it bothers me a lot that I am supposed to report on you. You’re right. This should be a fun trip, but how can we relax? You’ll never trust me enough to —”

  “It’s okay,” said Jack. “I told you before, I expect it. It won’t change who I am. I don’t need to work for Roche. Their offer is a matter of convenience, because I would still like a little something to do when I retire. More for its entertainment value than anything. Also, if I’m not suited for Roche’s organization, it would be better to find out sooner rather than later. You’d be doing me a favour. In a way, it’s like you’re working for me.”

  “Working for you?” Carina smiled.

  Jack forced a smile in return. You have no idea.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said. “So you really don’t mind?”

  “Not as long as you’re honest. It’s people who intentionally deceive that get under my skin.” That was hard to say with a straight face. “I like you, too. I sincerely hope that when your report goes in, no matter what you say, we can still be friends.”

  Carina squeezed his hand. “Thank you for understanding. It makes me feel less guilty.” She added, “Guess I can report that you are honest and exceptionally understanding.”

  It’s nice you feel less guilty, he thought.

  * * *

  Jack and Carina arrived at the Sofitel Marseille Vieux Port Hotel at one-thirty in the afternoon and checked in.

  Their rooms were side by side and Jack had barely entered his when Carina knocked on his door.

  “Have you seen it?” she asked excitedly.

  “Seen what?” Jack ignored an incoming text message on his phone.

  “The view! We are overlooking the harbour! It’s beautiful.”

  “I thought you’d been to Marseille on several occasions.”

  “Yes, but not in places like this.” She giggled. “I feel stupid. You are used to this lifestyle, and here I am, checking out your character. It’s me who needs lessons in culture. Anyway, I better unpack and call the real estate agent, then we can go eat.”

  As soon as Carina went back to her room, Jack checked his message and learned that the temporary field office was in Otto’s name three floors below him. Laura had a room in the New Hotel of Marseille, which was one block away, as did Yves and Maurice, who were sharing a room.

  Jack texted back that they would be going out with the agent this afternoon, that he felt safe, and that he didn’t think it was necessary to have a cover team tag along. Moments later Laura sent him a text saying that Yves would check with his contact at the local po
lice station and would consent to Jack going on his own if the real estate agent was legitimate.

  * * *

  The agent apparently was who she purported to be, and that afternoon she took Jack and Carina to two different villas. Both were beautiful, complete with swimming pools, spas, and fabulous views. Jack took his time examining each place so that it was too late to go to any art museums once they returned to their hotel.

  At eight that evening, Jack went with Carina to the hotel dining room, which overlooked the harbour. He ordered a bottle of wine to enjoy as they waited for their entrées.

  “So, we have four places to look at tomorrow,” Carina said as she reached for her wineglass and took a sip. “It shouldn’t take long and … this isn’t a test,” she said, looking seriously at Jack, “but if we are done in time, do you want to visit the Museum of Fine Arts here? It’s quite renowned.”

  “That reminds me,” said Jack, intentionally bypassing her question. “I’ve been meaning to explain to you why the painting I obtained recently means so much to me. I’m still embarrassed by how I reacted last night.”

  “Don’t be. As I said, sometimes art is personal and there is no need to explain what you feel to others. It is what it means to you that matters.”

  “Thank you, but I want you to know. Perhaps it would be best if Roche knew, as well.”

  “Don’t worry about him. Art doesn’t interest him.”

  “No, but he told me he has a friend who expressed an interest in purchasing it.”

  “A friend?” Carina stared at Jack for a moment, then said, “I wonder if it is my Russian client? Roche never said anything to me about it.”

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t know, could be. Roche never mentioned his name. The thing is, it would be better if they understood why I am so passionate about it. It would also make me feel better if you understood why I became so emotional last night and acted rudely.”

  Carina nodded. “Okay, if you wish.”

  Jack briefly thought about the points he wanted to make. The Russian loves art, he lost his wife, and the painting means something special to him. He cleared his throat. “You know Pierrot was always portrayed as a hapless clown who was too trusting.”

  “Yes, often seen as a naive.”

  “My wife was like that,” Jack said forlornly.

  “You were married? Children?”

  “Twelve years,” replied Jack. “We wanted children but weren’t able to conceive.”

  “You’re divorced?”

  Jack glanced down to display the grief he pretended to feel. “My wife drowned two years ago last month,” he said.

  “Oh, my God. I’m sorry.”

  “The thing is, her personality was so much like Pierrot,” said Jack. “I even teased her about it. She was too trusting. The type who wanted to bring home a homeless person for Christmas dinner. She’d give money to beggars, even though I told her it would only go to buying drugs. She would tell me I didn’t know that for sure.”

  “I am so sorry,” Carina repeated.

  “It was her gullibility that got her killed.” Jack spoke quietly. “We were staying at a resort in Mexico. She was out for an early-morning walk along the beach with a woman she’d met the day before. Normally, I would have gone with her, but I had a touch of food poisoning and was staying close to our room.” Jack swallowed, then continued. “The waves were really big — she wasn’t much of a swimmer and the woman she was with didn’t swim at all. There was a young man out in the water not far from shore. He was flailing his arms and screaming to his girlfriend that he needed help. The girlfriend was lying on a lounge chair and there was nobody else around. Turns out she was passed out drunk and didn’t even hear him. My wife jumped in and tried to swim to him.”

  “Oh, no.” Carina put her hand up to her mouth.

  “The undertow was too strong.” Jack fell silent for a moment, then went on, “The thing is, the young man didn’t know she was trying to rescue him. He swam back to shore himself. He was also drunk and was trying to tease his girlfriend because she was ignoring him. They took off when they realized what happened. I never even found out their names.”

  Carina stared opened-mouthed at Jack.

  “Yes, she was a fool,” said Jack, “but she was my fool and I loved her very much.”

  Carina’s eyes filled with tears. She reached for her purse and pulled out a tissue.

  “It was on the anniversary of her death that I discovered the painting.” Jack sounded more matter-of-fact. “It was like she’d given me a sign that she was still with me.” He paused. “That sounds stupid, I guess. I’m an atheist, after all. I know it’s only my emotions that make me feel that way.”

  Carina dabbed at her eyes. “Six years ago my husband, Denzler, died in a car accident.” Her voice was shaky. “I know exactly what you’re going through.” Abruptly, she uttered an apology and rushed to the ladies room.

  Jack stared blankly after her. I can be a real asshole sometimes.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  An hour after dinner Jack bade Carina good night and went to his room. He texted Laura, who was waiting with everyone else in Otto’s room below.

  Back in room. Nothing new to report. Expect tomorrow to be same. Will tell C we’ll go to Spain. I’ll book hotel. Check with Spaniards to see what hotel they recommend.

  Laura replied back immediately with:

  OK Everyone exhausted. Going back to my room. TTYL

  Jack turned on the television and lay on the bed for half an hour, then cursed to himself and quietly slipped out of his room.

  Laura answered her phone and realized Jack was calling her from the lobby.

  “Can I see you?” he asked.

  “Now? I’m in my pajamas.”

  “You wear pajamas?” Jack was surprised.

  “I do when I’m not home,” replied Laura, sounding defensive.

  “Well don’t take them off on my account,” he said.

  His humour was forced, and he knew she knew it and a moment later she let him into her room. He took a seat on the only chair while she sat on the bed and listened as he told her the lies he’d fed to Carina over dinner.

  “What happened after she went to the ladies room?”

  “She was in there quite a while. When she came back, I could see she’d tried to fix her makeup, but her eyes were still all red and puffy. Then she apologized for running off.” Jack took a deep breath and released it. “I feel like shit. When I told her that story it was to ingratiate myself with her, and by extension, the guy in Moscow. I didn’t know she’d lost someone.”

  “It’s not like you were trying to upset her. Things happen.”

  “Wish the Swiss or the Swedes had gotten back to us,” Jack said. “Those are the sort of details I’d like to have known about.”

  “It’s only been twenty-four hours. I’ll check with them again tomorrow.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Did you talk about her husband later?”

  “A little. Seems he ran a company that made orthopaedic appliances and parts for the body.”

  “How long was she married?”

  “Nine years. No kids.”

  “Well, you did what you had to do.”

  “Know what makes me feel worse?” Jack asked.

  Laura shook her head.

  “For a moment, when she told me that she’d lost her husband, I thought okay, good, you’re probably vulnerable. I’ll be able to romance you and you’ll completely forget about going to any museums. Yup, wrap you around my little finger and keep you there until I get to the Ringmaster. It’s like nothing else matters.”

  Laura gazed at Jack without any expression.

  “What kind of a person thinks like that?” he demanded. “I even slipped it in that since obtaining her portrait —” Jack paused. “Yes, I referred to it as her portrait, as if I was talking about my dead wife. I told Carina that it’s the only portrait I can think about and questioned whether any other art would ever h
old any significance to me now.” He shook his head in disgust. “She swallowed it all, hook, line, and sinker.”

  “You weren’t thinking of her. You were thinking of catching a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “I was thinking like an asshole is what I was doing.” Jack pushed himself to his feet. “Sorry to have unloaded on you. I needed to get a woman’s perspective. I was wondering if you’d be upset with me.”

  “For what? Lying to a woman? Guys do that all the time for a lot less of a reason.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “You only need to be with her for a few more days. The week will be over before you know it.”

  Jack nodded. “Thanks for listening. I’ll let you get to sleep now.”

  Laura got up and said, “Let me say something before you go. You’re worried about her vulnerability. That isn’t how assholes think.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Jack knew he sounded cynical and dismissive.

  “Don’t dismiss my words like I’m some airhead,” said Laura hotly. “Sometimes, like now, you are an asshole, but with Carina you were only doing your job.”

  Jack sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to … your opinion means a lot to me. It’s why I came to talk to you.” He paused, then added, “Sometimes the job sucks.”

  “No doubt about that, but there’s one more thing to consider. Carina’s husband died six years ago in a car accident. That’s too bad, but she can get on with her life. She already has. Think how Gabrielle feels and the pain she must be in. She’s pregnant and her husband was murdered only last month. Focus on that. Catch the Ringmaster and you can always apologize to Carina later. If you don’t catch him … well, think of the pain Gabrielle will be in forever. What you are doing needs to be done. I’m glad it’s you and not some other guy who probably would take full advantage of her.”

  Jack nodded again. “Thanks. I mean that. What you said is something I thought, too, but somehow I feel better hearing it from you and not my own brain trying to placate my conscience. I’ll catch you later.” He turned to leave.