Spoils of the Game (20 page)

“Do you want to go to the funeral or something?” asked Austin, trying to make sure that Madeline had not overlooked anything.

“Austin, I don’t do well at funerals. I suspect that Henri will be cremated, but I have enough trouble with my own emotions, and I sometimes take on the emotions of others. Henri will have to pass on to his reward without me.”

Austin had his answer.

Chapter 7

Antibes

Austin picked up Madeline in a taxi at about one o’clock Sunday. She looked tired, but she also looked determined.

“Do you have enough luggage?” asked Austin as he watched the driver load Madeline’s bags into the cab.

“Hey, I am going away for a month, and I have to look good every day,” said Madeline with a smile. “I also have a bunch of stuff that Sabine gave me for you, and all of the files, and a bunch of magazines to read on the train.”

“Well, it is good that there is no weight limit.”

Madeline looked tired. Austin tried to be lighthearted, but he had to know. How was her brain? How were her emotions? Was she okay?

Once they were in the back seat of the cab, Austin reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. In a low voice he asked, “Are you okay?”

Madeline looked at Austin and reached for his hand. She nodded a yes, but it was clear that she was still fragile.

“If you like, we can postpone this trip until tomorrow or later in the week,” said Austin, thinking it might be a wiser choice.

“Austin, I can be miserable here, or I can be miserable in Antibes. And Antibes is better.”

The cab made its way through the crazy traffic of Paris while Madeline sat holding onto the door handle with all of her strength. As the cab stopped in front of the Gare de Lyon, she let out a sigh of relief and looked at Austin to confirm that they both were still alive. Austin gathered up the luggage and paid the driver, and they worked their way into the station followed by a porter with a cartful of luggage. They had arrived at the station early and there was time for a light lunch at Le Train Bleu, an upscale restaurant that reflected the opulence that could be found in Paris. Lunch was pleasant. Madeline’s emotions were in conflict between her desire to have Austin to herself and the images of Feret that lingered in her head. But Feret was dead and she was alive and she was determined to put the horror behind her and live. Austin was encouraged by her strength. After some coffee, pastry and conversation he checked his watch and announced it was time to board the train. A few minutes later, Austin and Madeline had found their seats in first class and they were on their way.

“Austin, this is going to be so great, but I need some wine. I have to begin my relaxation process, which hopefully I can keep up for the next four weeks. I will be back in a few minutes.” Madeline got up and headed for the next car. In a few minutes she returned with two large glasses of red wine.

“This one is for me,” said Madeline as she handed Austin a glass. “And yours will be mine too if you do not drink it,” she said with a smile. “Last night I lay in bed thinking about what I saw. The more I thought about it, the more distant it appeared to be. It was like I was watching a horror movie that my sister and I saw years ago. The difference is that when you leave a movie theater, you know that it was not real. I think I will be okay. I know we are going to the sun and sea, and that makes me happy. Austin reached out and wiped a tear from Madeline’s cheek.

“Oh,” she said, “I have something to tell you that Sabine told me. I don’t know all of the details, but according to Sabine, two men came in to see Badeau on Friday morning. When they left, Badeau was extremely pale and looked like he had gotten some bad news.”

“So who were these people? Did they work at the Louvre? Oh, please tell me they were the cops. Your friend Badeau is a crook.”

“Sabine did not know, but one guy was really dressed well and had a lot of rings on his hands. The other guy was kind of small and had a slight accent that she could not place, and a scar on his face.”

“An accent?” asked Austin.

“Just like in your country, we have people with accents here too,” replied Madeline.

“Madeline, I did not tell you this before, because I was not sure what I was going to do with the information, but I had some people check out your friend Badeau. It was back when he was giving you a hard time, and I wanted to know who I was dealing with and how I might cut him off at the knees. I think your friend Badeau is dirty.”

“Dirty?” asked Madeline.

“He has done some things that might make one think he is a crook. Have you ever heard of the Seine Corporation?”

“No. You asked me about that name before.”

“Your friend Badeau and his wife own a corporation that deals in art. They bring in stockholders, and with the money, they deal in art with the promise of making money for the stockholders. There is evidence that some of the stockholders believe that there have been some financial irregularities, and apparently at least one, perhaps two, of the pieces of art have proven to be frauds. I do not know what he has done recently, but the Seine Corporation was being sued and might have been under investigation by the French National Police. I am personally amazed that he has kept his job at the Louvre. Perhaps he has convinced everybody that it was his wife’s fault. Who knows?”

Madeline sat looking out the window at the scenery as the train headed south. “I know that there had been discussions in the past, and that Badeau’s wife had talked with some lawyers who worked for the Louvre, and that she had agreed to take steps to isolate her activities from the Louvre,” she said. “It was understood that it was her business and had no connection to the Louvre or Badeau. All of this was perhaps three or four years ago.”

“Well, I don’t think that they have played by the rules, and I do not think that they expected to get some of the stockholder crap that they did,” said Austin. “I mean, people get really angry when they spend a lot of money on what they have been told is a good art investment, only to find out that they paid too much or they may have been a victim of fraud. His problem is that people who have enough money to buy expensive art also have enough money to fight back.

Madeline looked pained. “You have to go slowly with me. Yesterday I found a friend who was murdered, and today you tell me my boss is a criminal.”

“Madeline, with luck there may be a job opening in the future.”

“Oh, they would never give me Badeau’s job, and I am not sure that I would want it.”

“Hey, I have seen you in action, and I think you would be great,” stated Austin. “Half the people in the world are doing jobs that are over their heads, so you might fit right in,” said Austin with a laugh.”

Madeline looked at Austin, trying to process his comments. “What did you say?”

“It was a joke. You would be great in Badeau’s job. You know your way around, and what you do not know you could learn quickly. After I get done blasting Badeau, I will just tell Vassar to hire you, and it will be a done deal,” said Austin with a smile.

“Austin, you have made me think about a lot of things, and I am sure that I do not want Badeau’s job. I have had enough of the Louvre. I am quickly joining the list of people that go to work because that have to, and not because they want to. I have to break out and find something else to do.”

Madeline had finished her wine, and Austin had not touched his. Without asking, Madeline reached across the table and took Austin’s glass.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s not talk about Badeau. The next four weeks are going to give us an opportunity to relax.”

“So where did you say we are going again?” asked Austin, putting himself into Madeline hands.

“We are going to the little town of Antibes, which is just south of Nice and a lot more relaxed.”

“Will, I have a good time?” asked Austin with a smile on his face.

“Well, I will be there, and if you bring your nice-person face, we should have a really good time. I—or I should say you—rented a house that is on top of a hill, with a great view, and just a few minutes’ walk from the beach. It has a great rooftop patio and a lot of privacy. It is not exactly a mansion, but I love it, and you will love it too.”

“Did this cost me a lot of money?”

“You will know the answer to that question when you get your credit card bill,” said Madeline with a smile.

Austin hid his face in his hands. When he opened his eyes, Madeline was buying more wine from the refreshment cart that had come down the aisle of the train.

“More wine?” exclaimed Austin.

“Hey, I am French, and I like to drink wine. Here, read this stuff that Sabine gave you, and let me have my wine,” she said.

Austin took the large envelope and opened it carefully. Inside was a collection of articles and a note from Sabine.

Monsieur Clay, I did some research that you may find of interest. Some of it is required when we bring in new art, to ensure that it is not stolen and that there are no claims by heirs or others. Other research covers what is known about the artist and a determination of the value or importance of the piece. Some of the information I have provided is a little disturbing. I hope this information will be of interest and helps.

Austin went through the stack and was very impressed with the amount of information. The first document was the most disturbing. It defined the possible claims for the painting that were obtained from Father Gladieux.

All three of the paintings in questions appear to have been the legal property of Jacob Frankel, now deceased. According to available records, Jacob Frankel, a Jewish banker in the city of Nantes, and his family were requested by agents of the SS to prepare for relocation and failed to arrive at the prearranged location. Four Nazis including one Gestapo agent arrived at his residence and forced his family into the back of a truck. Included were his wife and sister and seven children. Jacob Frankel protested the arrest, and according to a witness, he was shot in the head on the front steps of his home while his family watched. The family was transported to the Drancy transit camp and then according to records maintained by the Nazis, to Auschwitz Birkenau. None of the family members is believed to have survived the war. A total of 155 works of art appear to have been part of the Frankel collection, including forty sculptures. Many of these items are in either museums or private collections around the world. The three paintings that were recovered recently have apparently been in storage by the Gladieux family for over seventy years. There are no claims on record regarding the ownership of the art.

Austin held the piece of paper in his hand as if it was a window into the past. He had visions of Frankel’s body lying on the front steps of his home, and the horror on the faces of his wife and children as they saw a Gestapo monster kill this innocent man.

The frickin’ painting is cursed,
thought Austin.
The painter was tortured to death, and the last known owner had his brains sprayed over the sidewalk.
The information from Sabine was of interest, but it was perhaps not complete. Who else had owned the painting? Where did it spend the rest of the past five hundred years? Who else had died while owning the paintings?

Austin looked toward Madeline to make her aware of the information, but she was asleep. The wine and recent events had taken their toll.

Austin continued to search through the information Sabine had supplied. Using his improved French skills, he waded through a copy of a newspaper article dated March 10, 1940 which was only a few weeks prior to the Nazi invasion of France. The article was built around an interview with Frankel and was entitled “Art Detective.” It was about to shake up Austin, and he knew it. His eyes quickly scanned the article, looking for clues, before settling into reading every word. There was a photo of Frankel standing in front of the battle scene painting that Austin knew very well. Austin almost panicked. Had Frankel learned the secrets? Had he found the gold? Frankel mentioned that in the world of art there had been many paintings that had contained possible clues to historical events and even murders. There had also been paintings with satire or political comment that had often gone unnoticed. Then Austin found the one line he feared: “This painting, for example, may hold the secret to a missing treasure, but I still need a few more clues.” There it was. Frankel, the art collector, had known the story. He had been on the trail.

“Madeline! Madeline, wake up.”

There was no response

“Madeline, will you wake up?”

Madeline’s eyes slowly opened, and she realized that someone was calling her. She tried to rally and prove that she was in control.

“Madeline, you will not believe what I have found in the information from Sabine. It’s a gold mine. You won’t believe it,” said Austin.

“Can you tell me in a minute? I have to pee.”

While Madeline was gone, Austin went back to the article. It was not a big article, but it contained valuable information. His eyes searched every line. There were references to Maetan’s brother and the strange fact that Maetan had used more than one name, which made the job of doing research on the lost treasure more difficult for Frankel.

Upon Madeline’s return, Austin was full of exciting information. He showed Madeline the personal information on Frankel and his death.

“Is this what you call exciting information? Are you taking pleasure in this family’s extermination?” exclaimed Madeline. “My goodness, Austin, do I have to hear about another murder?”

“No! No, you don’t understand. Here, look at this article,” said Austin, pushing the article in her direction.

“Damn you, Austin. I am going on holiday, and you are not going to make a mess of my plans with this search for gold and talk about people dying, or whatever you think you are going to find. You have got to promise me that for the next four weeks you will put this aside. I am sorry I brought the files, and when I talk to Sabine again, I will tell her to stop helping you.”

Tears began to well up in Madeline’s eyes. She was serious. She had planned this trip for weeks and did not want to see it competing with a silly search for gold that had been missing for over five hundred years. She wanted Austin all to herself and did not want to think about anything else.