Gauguin Connection, The (29 page)

“The Foundation receives funding from the EU for projects. These projects are part of a programme that has the EU working in partnership with Russia. That means that the EU pumps money into this programme and Russia puts in an equal amount. This programme focuses on specific needs that were determined by the EU. Entities can apply for funding to enable them to run projects that will meet these needs. Somehow the Foundation received funding for eleven separate projects.

“Each project needed to subcontract companies to complete the work. These companies included carpenters, caterers, engineering companies and the like. I have not had time to analyse the projects, but it seems that they are varied. Which makes it great for the bad guys. They could register many different companies. Each company gets paid for their services. I don’t know how yet, but all the signs are here that the Foundation used this to launder money.”

“What money? From the art auctions?” Manny asked.

“Most likely. I have no way to determine how much money had come from the art auctions. Which means that I don’t know what money comes from where.”

“Would you be able to find out how they did this?”

“I’m good at spotting patterns. I usually get to this point and then hand it over to the forensic accountants.”

“Is there any way to determine what money came from where?” Manny asked.

“We would need to look at each company’s finances individually. Who knows what condition their books are
in. Or whether we would be able to get access to their books. You have to keep in mind, some are small companies.” I pursed my lips. “Frankly, I don’t think it will be possible.”

“Bugger,” Manny grunted. “Okay, what else do you have?”

“This.” I changed screens with a click and we were all looking at dots. Colin sat back and folded his arms. Classic blocking behaviour. I did not care that he wasn’t pleased with me telling Manny everything. He just had to accept it.

“What’s this?” Manny frowned at the screen.

“We don’t know. Colin got this from Crenshaw’s safe. There are five flash drives that open to this screen when you insert it in the computer.” I lifted my hand to stop Manny. “Don’t start shouting yet. Let me tell you everything first. Then you can yell.”

Despite Colin and Vinnie’s disapproving glares, I told Manny everything about the flash drives. To his credit, he did not arrest Colin. He did, however, exhibit increasing degrees of fury. I swallowed my nerves and continued. “Colin couldn’t open the files, so he gave them to a trusted friend. She has three and we have two.”

Manny surprised me. He sat quietly for a long time processing what I had told him. His glare moved between Colin, Vinnie and myself while a myriad of emotions moved across his face. He went from shock to anger to fury to an internal struggle. Finally he nodded his head and looked at Colin.

“How long before your
friend
”—he spat out the word—“will have results?”

“Hours? Days? I really don’t know. She owes me one, so she’s making this a priority. As soon as she’s in, we’ll know.”

“She’s… um, also helping with something else.” My voice cracked under the strain. Manny lifted an angry eyebrow. I forged on. “We have a theory that if we put all the companies’ registration dates in chronological order, we might be able to determine where it all started. Who started it all. I have not been able to find the registration dates for six companies and Colin’s friend is going to find this for us. She might also be able to find more companies connected to the Foundation and the ships.”

I sat back and looked at Manny. He just grunted and was quiet for a while. I took the time to observe. Even lacking the context of the history between Manny and Colin, I came to some interesting conclusions. These two men disliked each other intensely, but respected each other too. It was an interesting contradiction. They seemed to value the other’s knowledge, experience and input. Yet every sentence was tinged with sarcasm. Unlike Manny’s sarcasm towards me indicating his anger, this was defensive. It was a protection mechanism people used to not allow their opponent the insight into their begrudging respect.

“I want her name and contact information.” Manny straightened himself. “You three have been working behind my back and I don’t like it. Frey, I don’t care who you have by the short and curlies in which agencies, you will not manipulate me. If either you or the gorilla step out of line, I’ll arrest Doctor Lenard.”

“Hey. I will not accept responsibility for their criminal actions.”

“No, Doc. You’re the one who lied to my face.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

“Same difference. I can get you arrested for breach of security. From the beginning you knew how sensitive this information was and that it was not to be shared with any outsiders. And now you’ve included yet another person. You’re going to carry the burden.” When no one spoke, he nodded. “Good. Glad we understand each other. And while you’re giving me the name of your gal, you might as well tell me your full name, gorilla.”

“Why don’t you suck my—”

“Vinnie, please. We’re all working together here to prevent more artists from being murdered with guns stolen from Eurocorps. This is so much bigger than Colin’s ego, your fear of being labelled or my dislike of social niceties.” In one sentence I had just summarised each one of us. And all of a sudden my obsessions and neuroses seemed petty. I must have been saying something right, because all three men were still listening. “Let’s put our own issues aside and be totally open with each other until this thing is over. Then you can get back to your grudges and distrust.”

“Well, I’ll be damned, Doc.” Manny smiled wryly.

“Damned?” I waved the silly expression away with a flick of my wrist. “Let’s get back to the case. What don’t we know?”

“Have you looked at the weapons’ theft reports?” Thankfully, Manny was all business again.

“Yes. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary, so Vinnie offered his help.”

“I’m not giving you my name,” Vinnie stated. “I will help. I will protect Jen-girl, but you will not have my name.”

Fortunately the stare-down between Vinnie and Manny didn’t last long. Manny closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. What do you have on the guns?”

“Nothing yet. I hope to hear something by tomorrow.”
             

“I suppose I don’t want to know who you’ll be hearing from.”

“You suppose right.” Vinnie folded his arms across his muscular chest, effectively ending the topic.

We were waiting for Francine to break the encryption. We were waiting for registration dates. We were waiting for Vinnie’s gunrunners to share information about stolen guns. I hated waiting. So I started thinking of any other loose ends.

“Oh, Colin.” I spoke so quickly that he started next to me. I smiled. “Sorry. I was wondering if you could look at something for me.”

“What?”

I moved to my personal computer and looked for a specific email. “Manny and I were looking at footage of a gala event and I saw something familiar. Ah, here it is. Do you recognise this?”

Colin moved closer to the screen to look at the blurred image of the Gauguin painting I had noticed in the ball room. His eyes widened. “It’s Gauguin’s Still Life, The White Bowl.”

“This is his Still Life, The White Bowl?”

“Yes. Why?” Colin sounded worried.

“The canvas strip found on the dead girl came from this painting.” Manny said absently.

“This is the Gauguin painting that was found on Danielle?”

“Yes. I’m familiar with Gauguin’s work, but I’m not an expert,” I said. “I knew that Rousseau & Rousseau insured that painting, but I’ve never actually seen it. This painting was hanging in Danielle’s room. It was the second painting from the left next to her bed.”

Colin closed his eyes, seemingly accessing his visual memory. His eyes shot open. “You’re right. It was there. Which I suppose we can assume was a forgery. It didn’t have any piece missing, no strip taken off it.”

Manny pointed at the computer screen. “Does that mean this one is real?”

“There is no way to tell,” Colin answered. “I would have to see it. Even then I might need more than just a look. Danielle was really good with her forgeries. The one hanging here might be the painting that strip was torn from, it might be a forgery,
it might be the original.”

“Can’t you tell if this painting is missing the strip?” Vinnie asked from behind the screens. I was secretly glad he wasn’t curious enough to come around to our side to look at the screens. As it was, there were too many men sitting close to me.

“I tried to get a better view, but there is a man’s head is in the way throughout the short view. And it is possible that the frame might hide the missing strip.”

“Only one way to tell and that is to see it,” Colin said again. He lifted an eyebrow. “This photo was taken at an event at La Maison Russie, right?”

Manny’s eyes widened. Then they narrowed and he glared at Colin. “No, Frey. You are not going to break in anywhere. I will see what I can arrange for us to see this. I’ll get you more information about the place.”

“I wasn’t planning on breaking in, you ass. I was simply asking to find out if it was a public or private place. I thought if it were public we could go on an excursion.” Colin was exhibiting cues of deception. I didn’t say anything.

Manny inhaled angrily. I put my hands out towards the men sitting next to me. “Focus. Common goal.”

Both men grunted and slumped back in their chairs. I rolled my eyes and snarled at Vinnie’s grin. God, I hated working with people. Especially alpha males. It was so much easier observing them.

“Is there anything else you need to know?” I asked Manny.

He thought for a minute. “Not for now.”

“Then this meeting is over.”

“Yes. Go to your cave. Jen-girl will let you know when we get anything else.” Vinnie got up, ready to escort Manny to the door. A few more threats were grunted between the three men. I chose to ignore them. I had done enough mediating for one evening. It was not part of my job description.

By the time Vinnie closed the door behind Manny, it was close to eleven o’clock and I was ready for bed. It seemed that I had not caught up enough sleep during the day. And playing the referee was exhausting. My respect for Phillip’s natural ability to mediate rocketed. I turned off all the computers, turned to my bedroom and stopped. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“She cussed.” Vinnie sounded breathless from shock.

“Colin?” I glared at him, waiting for his answer.

“What does it look like?” He shook the overnight bag in his hand towards the study. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Not in my apartment.”

“Jenny.” He softened his tone. It was too soft. The thief was trying to manipulate me with smooth words. “I’m tired. I’m also worried about you. After what happened yesterday, I would sleep so much better knowing that you’re safe.”

“Vinnie is here.” And one overbearing criminal in my apartment was more than enough.

“Now there will be two of us to protect you.”

I breathed past my fury, past my rebellion against another presence in my apartment. It didn’t take me long to read the two men in front of me. I briefly closed my eyes in resignation. “You are not being fair to me. There are two of you and only one of me. And I don’t have the energy to fight you.”

“I won’t be in the way.” He waited until I looked at him. Honesty and concern lined his features. “Only until this is resolved. Together we will be a much stronger force.”

“Fine.” I sounded petulant. I felt petulant. God, I really hated working with people. And now I had to live with them. With a huff I walked to my room. Tomorrow I would fight these men again. Now I was too tired.

Forty-eight hours. Apparently that was the time limit on my ability to share living space with two bickering men. What made it worse was that I hadn’t seen Phillip since they brought me back from the police station. I missed his calming, buffering presence. I missed his natural, easy knowledge of working with people. I missed him.

It was early evening. I had planted myself in front of the computers again. Vinnie was stacking the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. Colin was glaring at the television. They had just had another argument about Vinnie’s contact taking his time to get back regarding the stolen weapons. I did not understand it at all, but they seemed to enjoy the bickering. It was driving me insane. I wanted them to leave. I wanted my old life back.

“What about your girlfriend Francine?” Vinnie asked loudly from the kitchen. “It’s not like that chick got into those files in the first ten minutes. And what about all the info on those companies? Huh?”

Colin ignored Vinnie’s provocation. I had come up empty on my searches for more details on the companies. I had been convinced that their registration particulars would be public information. It wasn’t.

“Francine is your girlfriend?” I asked. The status of their relationship was news to me.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Colin turned his glare from the television to Vinnie. He had been quiet most of the afternoon and evening. I suspected that he was regretting his insistence on staying here. I regretted giving in so easily. I turned back to my computers and left the men to their juvenile arguments.

The last two days I had spent watching every second of footage that Manny had been able to send me. My saving grace had been the headphones that I put on to listen while I watched. That way I hadn’t heard most of the bickering. At first I was concerned that their friendship was in danger. Their non-verbal cues, however, totally contradicted the insults they were hurling at each other. The only conclusion I could draw from this was that they found this to be an entertaining outlet for the tension that was building in all of us.

Colin had kept his promise. He hadn’t been in my way. Not in the sense of him intruding on my space. The two of them never ventured close to my bedroom or bathroom. The rest of my apartment had been completely taken over though. I sighed and focussed my mind on the footage of last year’s event. Every time I watched it, I saw something new. I couldn’t wait to show it to Manny. He had phoned a few times, but had spent the last two days with Leon and the investigation into Crenshaw’s murder. Not even under the most severe torture would I admit that I missed Manny.

“Dude.” Vinnie’s shocked exclamation pulled me out of my zone. “This is wicked sick.”

Vinnie had moved from the kitchen to the sofa. They were watching the television in fascinated horror. I heard feminine grunts and suction sounds that widened my eyes. Of all the audacious things they could have done, this was too much.

“What are you watching?”

“Oh, Jen-girl. You have to come and see this.” Gone was the quarrelling. Vinnie sat next to Colin, no argumentative body language on display.

I slowly got up. “If you two are watching porn in my apartment, I will notify every law enforcement agency of your whereabouts.”

Both heads swivelled to me in shock. Just then the doorbell rang. I started moving towards the door, but Vinnie stopped me with a head shake. He got up, made some hand signals to Colin, who nodded. Vinnie walked to the door and I to the sofa where Colin had lost interest in the television. I was still curious about the sounds filling my apartment.

On the television screen were two women wrestling in mud. At least it wasn’t porn. I had nothing against people watching porn. I simply didn’t want two men watching it in my apartment. The two women were trying to grab hold of each other, but the mud did not allow for that. They were in a large square tub, knee-deep in mud. A large male-dominated crowd was cheering them on. I frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“Because the men think it’s sexy, Doc.” Manny spoke next to me. I hadn’t heard him come in, and turned. He looked oddly amused. And typically rumpled. Vinnie stood behind Manny and had lost all traces of laughter. Colin’s mirth also disappeared and I sighed. Great. Now I was going to have not two, but three men bickering. On the television screen one of the women had the other face down in the mud. Loud male cheering filled my apartment. I almost asked again about the mud-wrestling, but decided that I really wasn’t interested.

“Hello, Manny. Please tell me that you have new information.” I grabbed the remote control off Colin’s lap and switched the television off. I ignored their protests. “I have all those lists and would be grateful to have something new to compare them against.”

“Ah, you and your lists.” Manny shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it over the back of one of the wingback chairs. I swallowed, picked up the jacket and draped it over a hanger and hung it on the coat rack by the door. I walked back and nodded pointedly towards the computers. All three men followed me to the dining room table.

“So, do you have something new for me?” I asked Manny again. A bit less patient this time.

“I do.” He pulled out a chair and placed himself in front of the EDA computer. “What about you?”

“We haven’t heard anything about the guns or the files or the registration details yet.” I was not ashamed to admit that I was pleased when Manny gave Vinnie and Colin a disapproving look. They shrugged it off and everyone took their usual seats. I pulled my shoulders back a bit and lifted one eyebrow in arrogance. “I, on the other hand, have discovered something very interesting. But you must show me yours first, then I’ll show you mine.”

There was a pregnant silence for a millisecond. Long enough for me to realise that I had said something to bring surprised looks to their faces. I remembered Manny saying something similar once. It only took another millisecond for me to conclude how they had interpreted my word. I threw my hands in the air. “You are unbelievable. You’re thinking of sex? Really? Can we please focus on work?”

Manny cleared his throat. “Of course, Doc. Let me start with the Crenshaw case.”

“Have they found anything else to connect him to Piros?” Colin asked.

“As a matter of fact, they did. In one of the bedrooms was a black and white photo of Budapest’s parliament. On the back of the photo was written, ‘to Piros, congrats on the divorce’, with the date next to it.”

“What date?” I asked.

“We already checked it. The date written was October 1996. During that time Crenshaw was stationed in Hungary.”

“So he was Piros?” Colin didn’t sound convinced.

I also couldn’t believe this. On the video where I had recognised the insignia, the soldier had talked about Piros in conversation with Crenshaw. Or had he? I had never heard the full sentence. Maybe he had addressed Crenshaw as Piros. Had I missed something?

“Miss what?” Manny asked.

I blinked at him a few times before I realised that I must have been thinking aloud. “I don’t know. Let me check something.”

I turned to the EDA computer and mentally patted myself on the shoulder for my obsessive nature. The time-stamped markers that I had placed on the video made it easy to access that clip.

“What are we looking at?” Colin asked next to me.

I didn’t answer him, just played the clip. Then played it again. I played it for a third time in slow motion.

“Crenshaw is not Piros.” Once I knew what to look for it was easy to see.

“How can you tell?” Manny asked.

“Crenshaw’s reaction when the soldier mentions Piros.” I played the clip again, pausing it at a specific moment, and zoomed in on Crenshaw’s face. “Look at the tightening of his jaw muscles, his neck is stiff, his nose wings are flared and then there is the lip occlusion. All indicators of a negative emotion causing great tension. There are no other cues showing it to be anything but fear. And he only displays this on hearing Piros’ name. Crenshaw is not Piros.”

“But we have a photo with a date,” Manny said.

“I heard
a but in there. What is wrong with that date?” I asked.

“Sharp, Doc, sharp.” Manny nodded his approval. “Crenshaw was stationed there during that time. He also got divorced around that time.”

“But?” I wished he would get to it.

“But”—Manny smiled at me—“at that time Crenshaw was involved in some diplomatically delicate proceedings. Those details are still classified. All I know is that he told me years later that he and his wife had to pretend to still be married long after the divorce had gone through. Apparently their divorce would have ruined years of work. So they got all the legalities done, but nobody knew about their divorce until two years after the fact.”

“Nobody?” Colin pressed his index finger to his eyebrow. Classic eye blocking. He disagreed with Manny. “There is always someone who knows.”

“Granted,” Manny said. “Leon swears that Crenshaw loved the cloak-and-dagger stuff. He would never have told anyone. He liked knowing things no one else was privy to. That limits it to his superiors. Leon phoned around and none of them were on real friendly terms with Crenshaw. They respected his work, but would never have sent him a congratulatory photo.”

“So the photo was planted?”

“That is the general consensus. The crime scene investigators also determined that the frame that originally hung in that specific space had been smaller. There is a faint shadow on the wall, which means that the previous frame had been there for a long time. All the other frames in the house had a thin layer of dust on the top. The photo’s frame didn’t. So yes, I think that photo was placed there recently.”

“Any fingerprints on the photo?” I asked. After my recent experiences I had become very aware of fingerprints.

“None. That is equally suspicious. No fingerprints anywhere on the photo or the frame is simply impossible. Unless it had all been cleaned.” He leaned back in the chair. I wondered what Manny would look like if he was rested, shaved and wearing pressed clothes. “Leon and I spent most of today looking at Crenshaw’s employment records. I compared it to your lists, Doc. There was record of him living or travelling to most of the places where the artists were murdered. Maybe not at the exact date, but around that time. There were some places he had not been
to though. At least not in an official capacity. Leon and I realised that the problem with that is that Crenshaw was not the only person connected to some European agency or military to have visited those places.”

“Making a list of all those people and placing them there would require a staggering amount of data.” I was doing the calculations in my head. “Is there any way that we can narrow it down?”

“Let’s not worry about that list, Doc.” Manny pulled the EDA computer closer to him and I groaned. He was moving it out of place. “I have another list for you.”

“What list?” The wrong angle of the computer was forgotten.

“All the art that is in the house where last year’s gala event was held. La Maison Russie. Look at this.” He worked the computer and then turned it towards me. Again at a wrong angle. Every cell in my body screamed at me to align the computer as it had been. I forced myself to focus. On the screen was a badly organised list. It didn’t make sense.

“What am I looking at?”

“A list of all the artwork in La Maison Russie.” He smiled when he saw my eyebrows lifting. “Quite something, yes?”

“It’s a terrible list.” I frowned angrily at the screen. “Nothing is in order. It’s not organised at all. Not alphabetically, by artist, era or even medium. Who drew up this list?”

“I did, missy.” The words were clipped. I looked away from the screen and saw Manny’s face pulled tight in anger. Oh, dear. “Not everyone systemizes things as anally as you do.”

“What does my anus have to do with being organised?” My question elicited different responses. Vinnie chuckled, Colin groaned and Manny stared at me incredulously. Nobody answered me. “Well?”

“Jenny, it’s an expression people used to describe obsessive perfectionists,” Colin explained.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said, discounting the expression. I had first encountered this ridiculous expression during my psychology studies. It had never conveyed any rationale, no matter how many times it had been explained to me. I turned back to the computer. “I’ll organise this list and compare it to the lists I have of the miraculously recovered art and suspected forgeries. Do you have the name of the owner of the house?”

“It belongs to a Russian investment firm.” Manny looked relieved to talk about the case instead of anatomical euphemisms. “The name of the company is on the bottom of the list.”

“You included irrelevant information in this list?” Did people have no concept of list-making? I scrolled down the page. “P&S.”

“P&S?” Colin asked.

“It’s short for
Posiet and Somov ZAO.”

“Another closed joint-stock company,” Colin said. “Does this
Posiet & Somov mean anything to you?”

“Nothing aside from both names being Russian surnames. It would be safe to assume that those are the surnames of the people who founded this company. I wonder if they also registered in
Volosovo.”