by Estelle Ryan
“Howdy, strangers.” Vinnie walked into the room, holding a large paper bag in one arm and a basket in the other. “How’re y’all doin’?”
The confusion on the faces of the Croatian men made Francine laugh as she followed him in. “Ignore Vinster and his bad accent. Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Francine and I come bearing gifts.” She raised two large thermos flasks. “Coffee for all.”
Zork’s jaw dropped and he blinked a few times. “You’re Francine.”
“Well.” Luka glanced at Manny, huffed a laugh and held out his hand to Francine. “It really is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Didn’t you two work together last night?” Martin stopped behind Francine. Apart from the bruises on his face, his colour looked healthy and the dark rings under his eyes were less prominent. He looked from Luka to Francine and back. “I thought you were talking to him when I got back from the hospital.”
“Talking, not video-conferencing.” Zork laughed and pointed his thumb at Manny. “What the hell are you doing with this man?”
Francine winked at Manny when his scowl increased. “Teasing him, loving him, irritating him, and then loving him some more.” She put the coffee on the only table without any art paraphernalia and waved her hand at Martin. “The cups?”
Martin handed her a canvas bag and chuckled at Manny’s mumbled curses. Zork laughed and stood next to Vinnie. “Can I help?”
Vinnie shook his head and took another box from the basket. This one was filled with fresh croissants. He placed it next to the open boxes with a large selection of pastries in each. “We’ve got this. You can just dig in. There should be enough for all of us.”
“Vin made this for you.” Francine walked to me and held out a plastic container.
I recognised it as one of the containers from my kitchen. I took it and lifted the lid. In the largest compartment were orange segments, a few strawberries and a good portion of blueberries. In the smaller section was yogurt that looked like my favourite natural Greek yogurt I enjoyed on a frequent basis.
It was impossible to imagine accepting food from a place or person I hadn’t inspected. I needed to be sure of the hygiene of the kitchen, the quality of the produce used as well as the cleanliness of the cook. This made travelling a much bigger challenge for me, but Vinnie had just solved that problem in his usual understated manner.
I must’ve stared at the open food container for too long because Vinnie stepped closer. “Everything okay, Jen-girl? I found an organic brand of Greek yogurt. I hope it will be as good as the one back home. If not, I’ll get something else.”
I pulled the container closer to me when he reached out to take it. I looked up at him and made sure my expression communicated my thoughts. “Thank you.”
A soft smile replaced his concern. “No problemo.”
His unidentifiable and outrageous accent made me wince. The others laughed.
“This is why we keep you around, Vin.” Colin walked into the room and headed straight for the table. “Food.”
“I’m more than just a food delivery service, dude.” Vinnie touched the back of his hand to his forehead, mimicking Nikki’s frequent pose of faux-distress. “No one sees beyond my cooking skills.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete.” Manny entered the room, putting his phone in his trouser pocket. “Hand me my tea.”
Francine rolled her eyes and gave Manny an insulated travel mug. Colin took a cup of coffee and walked to Francine. He kissed her softly on her cheek. “Thank you for the clothes.”
Francine had arrived last night while I’d been in the shower. It had been wonderful to have my own pyjamas and cosmetics to finish my night-time routine. I had appreciated it again this morning when I’d taken the clothes from my suitcase. Roxy and Francine had surprised me with how well they’d packed. My clothes had come out with minimal wrinkling.
Francine grinned at Colin. “You’re saying it as if it was hard work for me to go through other people’s wardrobes and choose outfits I would like them to wear.”
Colin laughed. “Then... you’re welcome, Francine.”
Manny knocked on the table and waited until Nikki stopped teasing Martin about dinosaur snoring. He looked at Francine. “Tell them what you found.”
I put the orange segment I’d taken back into the food container and turned to my best friend. “You found something?”
“We did.” Francine nodded at Zork. She took a cup of coffee and gave it to me. “Eat and drink. You need it.”
“What did you find?” I took the coffee when she raised an eyebrow and her expression grew stern.
She waited until I took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “Zork and I spent a few hours looking into all these people you’ve come across in this case so far.”
“Shall we start with Slavko?” Zork waited until Francine nodded. “I found all the basics on the national system. Slavko Radja died at the age of eighty-nine. There was—and is—no reason to suspect foul play in his death. The last three years, he’d been in and out of hospitals with respiratory infections and his death certificate says he died of natural causes. I spoke to the doctor who signed his death certificate and she said that at the end he could no longer breathe on his own.”
“He was born in a small village close to Pula, went to school in the area and joined the army when he was seventeen,” Francine said. “Back then this area was still Yugoslavia. He fought in the Second World War and by the time it ended, he was a major in the army.”
Zork drank the last of his coffee and put the mug on the table. “After the war, he left the army. He went to university and graduated as an engineer. He married Marlena and they had two sons, Goran and Rene.”
“But he changed jobs a lot.” Francine looked at me. “He suffered from PTSD.”
“Well, they didn’t diagnose it as that in those days.” Zork shrugged. “There were a lot of other terms for it and no help.”
“Shell shock, combat fatigue, battle fatigue.” Manny nodded. “At least now, we can diagnose and help our soldiers.”
Luka shook his head. “Diagnose maybe. Help? I don’t know about your country, but here we don’t have enough psychologists who are trained to help people suffering from PTSD.”
“It’s not just soldiers who have to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder.” Nikki leaned against Pink. “There’s a mommy from Eric’s daycare who deals with PTSD from giving birth.”
This was an important topic, but we didn’t have time to debate the significance of competent treatment. I tried to soften my tone. “How does Slavko’s PTSD relate to the case?”
“Um... it doesn’t?” Francine lifted one shoulder. “Or maybe it does. I don’t know yet. This is just the info we got.”
“Anything else on Slavko?” Colin asked.
“He lived and worked in and around Pula. Both sons grew up in Pula and went to school there. Marlena died twenty-three years ago from breast cancer. Slavko never remarried.” Zork nodded at Francine to continue.
“So far, we know more about Goran. He was fifty-three when he died.”
“When he was murdered,” Zork said. “He got his uni education in Zagreb and first worked there, but twelve years ago he accepted a position at the university in Pula.”
“Art history professor.” Francine looked at Martin. “And he was your... well, Sebastien’s client.”
Martin nodded. “Unmarried, no children, boring.”
Colin laughed softly. “Like most art history professors.”
“What about Rene?” Pink took Nikki’s coffee mug from her when she moved towards the two paintings on the easels.
“I haven’t yet looked into him.” Francine glanced at Luka, then at Manny. After a moment, she shrugged. “Okay, so I had a very quick look in the not-so-legal places. I didn’t find any dirt on Goran.”
“I don’t know if we’ll find anything bad on Goran.” Zork tilted his head. “Everything in his file indicates a law-abiding citizen.”
Francine respo
nded with a loud snort. “Hmm.”
Zork grinned. “You might be right, but I think we’ll find more dirt on Rene.”
“Most likely.” Francine smiled at Manny. I knew that smile. It was filled with mischief and usually preceded illegal hacking. “I’ll be looking deeper into Rene.”
“Dammit, woman.” Manny’s lips thinned. “Don’t get arrested here.”
“You know I’m better than that.” She winked at him, then looked at Zork. “Tell them about the murder.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Zork shrugged. “I looked at the case file and it’s pretty thin. On the night of the murder, Rene went to the university to see his brother. The university security cameras caught him entering the building. But they only have cameras at the entrances of the buildings. There’s never been a need for a more serious security system, so they didn’t add more cameras. We only see him entering and exiting the building. And we see Goran entering, but never exiting.”
“What’s the theory?” Colin asked, then glanced at Nikki who was staring at the Becić painting.
“From the blood spatter and Goran’s injuries, it looks like Rene punched him once on the left side of his face.” Zork touched his jaw. “He staggered backwards and Rene punched him again. Somehow Goran lost his balance and fell.”
“He hit his head on the corner of his secretary’s desk,” Francine said.
“The medical examiner said that was the cause of death.” Zork took another pastry. “The detectives studied the camera footage, but couldn’t see any blood spatter on Rene when he left. I also had a look at the videos, but the quality is really bad. I couldn’t see anything that would make me think he’d just killed his brother. There’s nothing in the file about motivation. It could have been a usual argument between brothers that went wrong. Or something to do with Slavko’s estate. It doesn’t seem as if the detectives have any theories about that. But Rene is the main suspect.”
“Where is he now?” Manny asked.
“Missing.” Luka crossed his arms. “There’s a warrant out for his arrest. He was placed on the national wanted list and three weeks ago on Interpol’s wanted list. But he’s not been seen anywhere and there’s been no activity on his bank cards or accounts.”
“Oh, honey.” Francine fluttered her eyelashes. “If Rene is the degenerate I think he is, you won’t find him in the legal places.” She gave Luka a saccharine smile, lacking any sincerity. “Don’t you worry your brave little heart about this. I’ll find the big, bad criminal.”
Luka wiped his hand over his mouth—a clear attempt to hide his reaction. He was not successful. Nor was he able to hide the curiosity in his micro-expressions.
I looked at Colin. “What did you learn?”
“Quite a bit.” He had been on his phone most of the time we’d been here at the university. “It seems like I was mostly right about Florian.”
“Mostly?” Luka asked.
Colin nodded. “I contacted a few people who know Florian quite well. A couple of them do a lot of business with him.”
“Legal business?” There was no judgment on Manny’s face, only interest. Luka’s expression carried a lot more suspicion.
“A mix.” Colin smiled at Luka and shrugged. “I don’t think that is our concern at the moment, right?”
“Hmm.” Luka gave a tight nod.
Colin’s smile widened. “From what I hear, there is nothing in Florian’s past to suggest he would ever become violent. There’s no mistaking his love for not-so-legal deals, but everyone was shocked at my suggestion that he could resort to any kind of violence.”
“What kind of not-so-legal deals?” Luka asked.
“It turns out he’s quite the Robin Hood.” Colin turned to me with one eyebrow raised. I nodded. There was no need to explain Robin Hood to me. Colin looked at Francine. “I’m sure if we look at the financial records of his business, we’ll see a lot of legit deals. His illegal deals are all done on the darknet. I pieced together a lot from stories my contacts told me. It looks like he buys stolen art for a fraction of the value of the work. He’s also commissioned a few thefts with the best art thieves in the business. This is done for a very small fee. I don’t know how he manages that and no one could tell me why thieves would agree to forego their usual high fees.”
He winked at Luka, who was looking increasingly more distrustful. “Once Florian has these high-value artworks, he resells them on the black market at a much higher price. It’s still far below market value, but the profit he makes on these artworks is obscene.”
Colin was becoming more animated as he spoke. I was curious about the approval I observed in his expression.
“Since Florian is not an angel, he takes a healthy cut from the profit, but a larger portion of it gets donated to art programmes all over the world.” His smile was genuine. He appeared proud of Florian’s crimes. “He’s funded schools in the disadvantaged areas close to the homes of the original owners of the paintings.”
“Wait. What?” Francine’s eyes were wide. “He finds the people who legally owned the stolen art, then finds a poor school nearby and donates money to the school?”
“That’s righteous.” Vinnie crossed his arms and nodded.
“That’s illegal.” Luka looked confused and perturbed. “How could you approve of this?”
“These schools have funds for the bare minimum.” Colin had lost all his amusement. “The first thing that goes in poor schools is art. Music, fine arts, dancing, acting, even libraries. Sadly, our sophisticated and civilised society considers the arts to be a nonessential in children’s education.”
“That’s the real crime,” Nikki muttered. She moved away from the Račić painting and leaned in to study the Becić landscape again.
Colin nodded. “I managed to find out that he’s funded art programmes in seventeen schools across Europe. But he doesn’t stop there. He also funds schools in Third World countries. So far, I know of twenty-nine schools across Africa, eight in South America and I don’t know how true this is, but someone told me he’s funded programmes in eighty-three schools in India.”
Manny’s corrugator supercilii muscles pulled his brows even closer. “Then why the bloody kidnapping?” He looked at Martin. “The physical assault?”
Colin raised both shoulders. “I truly don’t know. It seems completely out of character.”
“Oh, my God!” Nikki’s gasp had all of us turn to her. She leaned even closer to the Becić and waved with her hand behind her back. “Colin, Doc G, come look here. I’m sure I found something.”
Chapter THIRTEEN
COLIN JOINED ME AS we walked to Nikki. She straightened, only to search the messy table next to her. “Aha!” She grabbed the magnifying glass and aimed it at the lower part of the painting.
“What did you find, Nix?” Colin leaned in next to her. I couldn’t see what they were looking at. And I didn’t want to move any closer. Already everyone else had taken a few steps closer to us and I was beginning to feel crowded.
“Look.” Nikki handed Colin the magnifying glass. “The arch of the bridge.”
She took a step back and gestured to me to move closer. I did. Again, the beauty of the painting drew me in. The darker colours of the mountains, trees and buildings drew attention to the light-coloured bridge in the centre of the painting.
“Huh.” Colin straightened. He took a clean tissue from the box on the table, wiped the magnifying glass and handed it to me. “To the left on the arch.”
I took the magnifying glass, leaned forward and studied the left-hand side of the bridge. It didn’t take me long to find the anomaly.
A shadow from the trees to the very left of the bridge was simplistic and almost made the bridge look dirty. Within the darker colours of this shadow, three numbers were carefully, and quite effectively, hidden. Now that I knew what to look for, I took my time to go over the rest of the painting. When I finally straightened, Nikki and Colin were discussing their find with the others.
>
Colin noticed me stepping back from the painting. “Did you find anything else?”
“Just the three numbers. Thirteen point seven.”
“What do you mean, thirteen point seven?” Nikki grabbed the magnifying glass from me, bumped me with her hip to push me away and looked at the painting again. “I only saw the numbers. Hundred and thirty-seven.”
“There’s a point between the three and the seven.”
“Hmm.” Nikki drew out the sound. “I think I see it. Yes! It’s really there. Huh.” She straightened and looked at me. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Another bloody painting has been stolen.” Manny walked into the room, shaking his phone at us. I hadn’t heard his phone ring or him leaving the room.
“What painting?” Colin asked.
“Oskar Hemmingway.”
“You’re a cretin.” Colin glared at Manny. “His surname is Herman. Do you know which Oskar Herman?”
“Winter Landscape.” Manny put his phone in his trouser pocket. “Do you know it?”
Colin shook his head. “I’m not that familiar with Oskar Herman’s work.”
“Here.” Pink held out his tablet. On the screen was a painting that indeed looked like a winter landscape. It was quite different from the paintings I’d seen in my quick search. This showed more detail as well as finer brushwork.
Tall, snow-covered mountains filled the background, small stretches of trees breaking the monotony of the background scene. In the centre of the painting was a building that looked like a church. The roof was covered in a deep layer of snow, the sky blue with a few clouds. It was a peaceful scene.
Colin took the tablet. “This is the third Munich Four painting.”
“And?” Luka asked.
Colin looked at Luka, then at the Becić. “Give me a moment.” He took the magnifying glass from Nikki and walked to Račić’s Na Seini. With controlled movements, he leaned forward and studied the bridge dominating the canvas.
The slight stiffening in his muscles made me move closer. “More numbers?”
