Spoils of the Game (19 page)

Madeline zoomed in to part the image.

“See, here is an image of a wagon with horses. On the painting, the horse and wagon are gone and replaced with some trees,” continued Madeline. “On the painting, the trees look like they were just painted in a hurry. They almost look like they don’t belong.”

“Do you think that the guy in the wagon is a miniature portrait of Maetan?” said Austin.

Madeline looked at the picture and laughed. “It sure could be. If it is him, what is he doing? Where is he going?”

Madeline and Austin studied the picture for several minutes.

Austin had more questions. “Why would he cover up this portion of the picture? If he did not like the image, was he happier with the trees that replaced him? Was he trying to hide something? Where was he going in the wagon?

“Austin, look at the horizon. Pictures of this era sometimes compressed distances. Those buildings shown might not be even close to the battlefield shown, but they do define the location to some degree. If you look over to the right, you see another town or village. The way the road is drawn, it looks like the road is heading for that village.”

“So what are you trying to tell me?” asked Austin.

“I don’t know that I am telling you anything. For some reason Maetan did not like this portion of the painting or what it showed. I would like to know when he painted it over. If he did it to hide something involved with the gold, he must have learned that someone was after him and just quickly put the trees on the painting to cover his image. Who knows?”

Madeline sighed. “Austin, I am still starving, and I can’t eat just fortune cookies. We have all of this food from the Chinese restaurant. I will make us some plates. I think it has gotten a little cold, so I will put it in the microwave for a few seconds.”

Austin backed away from the computer and walked into the kitchen. “So what is the plan for tomorrow and Sunday?” he asked.

“Well, tomorrow I have to take some books that Badeau gave me over to Henri Feret’s apartment. Then I wanted to do some last-minute shopping. On Sunday we get the TUV train at two, and in a couple of hours we will be in Nice. We pick up a car at the station, and we go a few kilometers south, and we are there.”

“Hey, how many people know that we are going away together?” ask Austin. “I mean, how many people know that you and I have been dating, or whatever you call it?”

“Well, Sabine knows just about everything, because we are friends and she tells me a lot. She also helped me make the reservations and some other stuff. I don’t think anybody else knows much, because they are so absorbed in their own lives and really don’t have time or an interest in learning much about anybody else, unless it can help them. Which is fine with me.”

Austin and Madeline sat at his kitchen table, eating Chinese food from cardboard containers. It was a relaxed dinner. They had their shoes off and were drinking directly from cans of beer.

Madeline gave up trying to use the chopsticks that came with the meal and resorted to using a spoon. “Austin, you are an amazing man. You are worth a lot more money than me, and perhaps a lot more than anyone I know, and I sit here eating from cardboard boxes and drinking beer that I wish were a little colder. If I didn’t love you, I would recommend that you spend just a little more and bring some class into your life. You are the cheapest person I know. You don’t even bring comfort into your own life.”

“Did you get enough to eat?” Austin asked with a smirk. “Madeline, you are right. You have been a big help, and perhaps I’m not treating you as I should. I don’t mean to be cheap—I just wanted to see these pictures. You deserve better, and I will try.”

Madeline seemed a little sorry for what she’d said, and she leaned forward and gave Austin a kiss. Then looked into his eyes and kissed him again, and he kissed back.

“Madeline, I have got to call the States, and I will probably be on the phone for a couple of hours. Then I have to work on packing.”

“Okay, you can throw me out. But when we get down to the coast on Sunday, I will get my revenge,” said Madeline with a smile.

“What time are you going to Feret’s, and why are you delivering books?” Austin asked with an attitude. “Doesn’t the Louvre use a delivery service or something?”

“Henri lives about two blocks from me, and it is no problem. Why don’t you come with me? Henri is a very nice man, and perhaps you two can talk about your deal.”

“Call me when you are going, and I will come over.”

Madeline kissed Austin on the cheek and left.

The next morning, Austin met Madeline in front of her building. As they walked to Feret’s, Madeline revealed a concern.

“I almost called you when I got to my apartment last night. There were a few things in my apartment that I was convinced had been moved. Files that had been on my desk were on the floor. Books that I was going to put into boxes were not where I remembered. I have been getting ready to paint my bedroom, and the more I thought about it, the more I figured I moved the things myself. I must be losing my mind.”

“Can’t you get someone to paint your bedroom?”

Madeline did not have the money to hire someone, but that was her secret. “I would enjoy painting my bedroom, and no one would be able to paint it the way I want.”

Feret lived in an older building in which many artists and those involved in the art business lived. As they approached the front door, an old friend of Madeline’s was leaving. The two women exchanged greetings while Austin held the door open. After a brief conversation, the woman left, and Austin and Madeline entered the door and headed for the elevator. As with many older buildings, the interior reflected an earlier Paris. The elevator was an afterthought and climbed up through the building within a spiral staircase. The small elevator could hold perhaps three people and looked like a birdcage as it creaked and rattled its way to the fourth floor. The hallway to Feret’s apartment was dimly lit. Madeline had been to Feret’s apartment before, and she knew the way. To Madeline’s surprise, the door to Feret’s apartment was partly open. At first it was a little alarming. They had not buzzed his apartment to get in the front door. Madeline carefully pushed open the door.

“Henri?” Madeline called out as she looked into the apartment. Henri’s apartment was small and made smaller by the bookcases surrounding the living room. Something was wrong. The floor was covered with books that had fallen from the shelves as if there had been an earthquake. Again Madeline again called out, “Henri?”

Austin could see over Madeline, and he knew that something was wrong. Fearing that the man had suffered a heart attack or something, Madeline opened the door a little more and looked behind the door to the left. In a split second her heart stopped, her breathing stopped, and her brain stopped. A second later she turned, pushed the former college linebacker aside, and ran down the hallway.

Austin entered the room and looked to the left. Seated in a chair and bound with duct tape was the body of Henri Feret. A cloth was stuffed in his mouth, held in place by a length of tape. Blood had flowed from his nose and run down Henri’s blue shirt, pooling on his pants along with the blood that had flowed from the deep slash on his neck. Henri’s eyes were still open and lifeless, which added to the shock. But the most disturbing feature was the large folding knife with a wood and brass handle that someone had plunged through the top of Henri’s head. To Austin the scene was very bizarre, and it captured his attention until he heard Madeline screaming.

Austin backed out of the door and saw Madeline sitting on the floor at the end of the hall, trembling. Her screaming had drawn the attention of several tenants, who had opened their doors. Austin ran to Madeline, but there was nothing he could say. Two women were standing in their doorways, not knowing what had happened. Austin looked at one of the women and said, “Police.” It was not the right pronunciation, but the woman understood. Kneeling down, Austin put his arms around Madeline and tried to help her to stand. The woman who called the police reappeared and tried to understand the problem. Her English was weak but good enough. Austin asked if Madeline could have a glass of water and perhaps sit in the woman’s apartment. The woman, named Marie, agreed, but she was still mystified about the problem. Austin wanted her help and wanted her to understand that the problem was serious, but he did not want to shock her. The language barrier was going to be a problem.

Looking into Marie’s eyes, Austin said, “Monsieur Feret.”

“Oui,” she replied with panic emerging on her face.

Austin said, “Mort…Murdered.”

Marie raised her hands to her mouth. The panic that had been emerging was now here. Within seconds the news was shared throughout the apartments, and the panic was everywhere. These people had lived in these apartments for years, and everyone knew everyone. If a gentle man like Feret could be murdered, then perhaps they were all in danger.

Suddenly three police officers arrived on the floor, two men and a woman. A few questions were asked, and everyone pointed toward Austin. With the help of Marie, who had opened her apartment to Madeline, Austin did his best to explain to the officers what had happened. He escorted all three to Feret’s apartment, and although the officers had seen a lot working the streets of Paris, none of them was prepared for what they found. Obviously the problem before them was above their pay grade, and they radioed for help.

Austin had no interest in the dead man and was much more concerned about the status of Madeline. In Marie’s apartment, Madeline sat in a chair, drinking her second glass of wine. Austin pulled up a chair and sat next to Madeline. Her eyes stared at an unknown location, and her bottom lip quivered.

Her emotions were complex. She had known Henri for years, and if he had died of natural causes, she would have been upset. But try as she might, she could not shake the image of the knife sticking out of Feret’s head, and of his open eyes that looked so distant and so sad.

Austin knew that she would have to work her way through the emotions. Perhaps the best he could do was to answer as many questions from the police as possible and minimize her exposure.

The door to Marie’s apartment was open to the outer hall. Suddenly one of the officers directed a large man toward Austin. Standing in the doorway, the man introduced himself as Detective Blanc and fortunately his English was good. Detective Blanc was an educated man who had learned his trade in school and on the streets. Unlike many in the police force who urgently worked to save lives, there was no need to rush when Blanc was working on a murder. As he entered the apartment, there were several conversations in French and quickly he knew that in the short term, any answers—if there were any—would be found with Austin and Madeline.

“Monsieur Clay,” said the large detective.

Austin rose from his chair and shook hands with his new acquaintance, Detective Blanc.

“Monsieur Clay, I have just a few questions that perhaps you can answer. I understand that this has been a shock. I have never been to the scene of a murder that was not a shock. Unfortunately this murder appears to be a little more gruesome than most, and that does not make it easier for anyone. I don’t expect to solve this murder this afternoon, but any information you can provide would be a help.”

“Detective,” said Austin, “we understand your need for information, but I am afraid that we may not be much help. Ms. Rousseau and I were to visit with Monsieur Feret to deliver some books that he had requested from the Louvre, where Madeline works. I was very careful not to disturb anything in Feret’s apartment, so all I can say is that you know all that we do.”

Blanc looked at Madeline, who looked back with her bloodshot eyes. It was clear to the detective that this crime would take some time and if he had any questions, tomorrow or next week would be a better time. At this time, the best sources of information might be the body of Henri Feret and any clues that might be in his apartment.

“Did you know Feret very well?” asked the detective.

“Madeline knew him casually through her work at the Louvre, and I met him twice,” volunteered Austin. “He was an art professor, and that is all I know about him.”

Madeline looked up at Detective Blanc. “Detective, Henri was a very nice man. He was a little clumsy, and sometimes his clothes were a little messy, but I don’t think he had any enemies, and I don’t think he had any money. He mentioned once that he owned some rare books that he inherited from a relative. They might have been worth some money, but I don’t know if they were stolen or not.”

The detective knew that there were more useful areas to investigate. Soon the Special Investigation Group would deal with the body and carefully survey the apartment for clues. Henri Feret was not a celebrity in Paris, but there was something about this case that Blanc noted very early in his investigation, something that made him want to give the case his personal attention.

“In case I have to contact either of you, please provide me with phone numbers.”

“No problem,” replied Austin. “Detective, we were planning to leave on a trip tomorrow. I assume that will be okay.”

“I don’t believe that there will be any questions that we cannot address by phone or some other means, so go and have a good time. Call me if you think of anything,” said Blanc as he handed Austin his card.

Austin wanted to get Madeline out of the building and home. The wine had helped calm her nerves, and the shock had faded, but she still needed some tender loving care. The good news was that it was only a short walk to her apartment. Detective Blanc’s comment about having a good time seemed surreal.

The one question in Austin’s mind was the trip to Antibes. Was she up to it? Did she still want to go?

Austin and Madeline sat at her kitchen table. Austin made some tea and looked around for something to make for a late lunch.

“So do you still want to leave tomorrow, or do you want to postpone the trip for a few days, or what? I will agree to whatever you want to do.”

Madeline looked surprised. “Austin, I have been looking forward to the trip for longer than you know, and I am still going. I wish to God that what happened today never happened, but we did not do it. Henri was killed by evil people. I liked and respected Henri, and if I thought that not going on this trip could bring him back or help catch the people that did this, I would cancel the trip. I pray to God I can get the image of his body out of my mind. I think someone was looking for something in his apartment, the way it was destroyed. I cannot image that the man had any money. I will miss Henri, but I would miss our trip more.”