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The Missing Masterpiece

Page 25

by Jeanne M. Dams


  ‘“Salt the mine”, probably,’ I said. ‘Comes from gold- and diamond-mining days, when someone would strew a few chunks of gold or diamonds around a worthless piece of property to convince a naïve buyer that there was a fortune to be found there. In this case Grant “found” the manuscript at the Abbey to prepare the way for his “finding” the Abelard music. So that’s one good thing to come out of this, anyway – another medieval artefact saved for posterity.’

  ‘The only good thing,’ said Peter. ‘Laurence is dead. He wasn’t maybe the world’s best scholar, or the most honest chap, but he was my friend.’

  ‘I suppose Grant killed him because he got too close to the truth,’ I said.

  ‘That, or he wanted to go halves on the Renoir. That would have been like him. Oh, there was such a lot I didn’t like about him, but we’d known each other a long time, and we had some hopes for the future. Now …’

  ‘I’ve got some ideas about that, son. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?’

  The party broke up after that. We were all exhausted. I plodded up the stairs to our bedroom in Sam’s suite and wished I could just drop into bed in my clothes.

  ‘You heard what Sam said to Peter?’ Alan asked as I was trying to kick off my sneakers without untying them.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘He’s going to offer him a job. Sam is, to Peter, I mean. He told me earlier. He thinks the boy has what it takes and just needs proper supervision. Nice chap, and it would do Peter good to get out of England.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I’d given up on the shoes and bent down to untie them.

  ‘Love, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Poor dear, it’s not been much of a holiday for you, has it? Tomorrow I’m going to take you to Paris and show you the place properly.’

  That roused me. I sat up, one shoe in my hand. ‘You are going to do no such thing! You are going to take me home, and I’m going to cook chili, or meatloaf, or something as American as I can think of. And we’re not going to mention France or speak a single word of French till Christmas!’

  ‘Right, dear heart. Go to bed.’

  I was asleep before he turned out the light.

 

 

 


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