(36/40) The Fine Art of Murder
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The painting wasn’t the only item in the package. Shrouded in many layers of bubble wrap was a pint bottle of grappa with another note from Curso. He suggested I drink it as a shot after dinner, or add it to espresso. Or freeze it and drink it straight from the freezer. It loses a little when frozen, but what the devil, huh?
My forged Botticelli now occupies a proud spot on my wall, and if I ever forget about my Italian adventure, I need only to look at it to remind me of all the young men—good and bad—I encountered.
On the basis of her appearance in Tony Curso’s documentary, Marlise was hired by a Chicago TV station to produce and narrate documentaries. The last I heard, Wayne had sold his grandmother’s house and was living with Marlise, although he wasn’t home very much. He’d gotten serious about music and had joined a rock band that toured frequently. Luckily for him—and I’m sure it involved a substantial fee for Willard Corman—his lawyer was able to persuade the police not to charge him with false testimony, and he was given a clean slate.
Tony Curso keeps in touch. He’s busy teaching courses in art history and consulting with the Italian police on matters of art theft and forgery. I treasure knowing him and look forward to catching up again in person one day.
According to Marlise, Susan Hurley went to work for Joe Jankowski. “He needed a good accountant. I’m sure they’re trying to figure out if there’s anything left in the estate to pay his fee.”
Marlise also passed along the information that Edgar Peters took the pieces in the art collection, sold the originals for not much money, and put the others up for sale on eBay, advertising them as coming from the hand of history’s greatest art forger, the Italian painter Vittorio.
As for me, I finished my novel and took a one-month hiatus to relax and catch up with friends. My travel agent, Susan Shevlin, called me a few months after I’d gotten home to say she had a wonderful Italian tour package that she knew I would love.
“Grazie,” I told her. “Maybe another time. The only ‘Italian’ I want to hear for a while are the items on the menu at Peppino’s restaurant.”
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OTHER BOOKS IN THE Murder, She Wrote SERIES
Manhattans & Murder
Rum & Razors
Brandy & Bullets
Martinis & Mayhem
A Deadly Judgment
A Palette for Murder
The Highland Fling Murders
Murder on the QE2
Murder in Moscow
A Little Yuletide Murder
Murder at the Powderhorn Ranch
Knock ’Em Dead
Gin & Daggers
Trick or Treachery
Blood on the Vine
Murder in a Minor Key
Provence—To Die For
You Bet Your Life
Majoring in Murder
Destination Murder
Dying to Retire
A Vote for Murder
The Maine Mutiny
Margaritas & Murder
A Question of Murder
Coffee, Tea, or Murder?
Three Strikes and You’re Dead
Panning for Murder
Murder on Parade
A Slaying in Savannah
Madison Avenue Shoot
A Fatal Feast
Nashville Noir
The Queen’s Jewels
Skating on Thin Ice