Monsieur Felix came over to the villa and listened intently to everything we told him, while his dark eyes registered the quick intelligence of a man who comprehended the heart of a matter instantly. His gaze was very focused, yet there was an undercurrent of restlessness, like a horse who was snorting to get going. He conducted a thorough inspection of the villa, having already gone over the police report before he arrived. But he made his own list of everyone who’d been at the villa that weekend, and anyone who could have possibly known that the tapestry was going to be there that night.
“
Bon
,” Monsieur Felix said shortly when we were done telling him everything we could think of that might help. “I will do what I can, and let you know what I find out.”
“Wow,” I said to Jeremy after he’d gone. “He seems pretty good.”
“Thierry says he’s the best around,” Jeremy assured me. I actually began to feel my spirits rise. Maybe there was some hope, after all.
A few days later, our phone began to ring. And ring and ring. However, it was not Monsieur Felix who called, not once. It was everybody else. And if a telephone could ring angrily, this one did.
“Penny!” Erik said furiously. “I just found out from
my
sources that
your
sources have been investigating me and Tim. And just let me set you straight, little girl. Neither one of us would even
think
of taking your tapestry, and it is absolutely
nobody’s
business about our little personal histories, so you tell your investigator to put
that
in his pipe and smoke it!” he said hotly.
“Erik!” I shouted. “We didn’t ask him to do that. Calm down and tell me what happened.”
“Just because Tim once got arrested for trying to—carry—an artifact out of Greece, which he tells me he
absolutely
paid for . . . to a man with a van who didn’t give receipts . . . Timmy was young then, and didn’t know how to do things yet . . . I
totally
believe him,” Erik said stoutly. But even I could hear just the tiniest bit of surprise in his voice at this discovery.
I heard Tim murmuring in the background, and Erik added, “Yes, and you may as well hear it from me that once I had a terrible lover who took me to small claims court over the division of property. All because of an eighteenth century commode with gilt marquetry. I hope he gets buried in it.” I couldn’t resist a grin.
“Poor Erik,” I said soothingly. “If it’s any consolation, it really isn’t personal. I guess it’s what these guys do as a matter of routine. He has to check out everybody who was at the house that night.”
“Oh, really?” Erik said. “Everyone? Then what, pray tell, did he find about you and Jeremy?”
I paused. “Gee,” I said. “I don’t know.”
Tim must have gone out of the room then, because Erik said in a low voice, “Take it from me, when it comes to ferreting out your beloved’s little secrets, you
don’t
want to know. At least . . . not until after the wedding.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
I returned to Jeremy and reported this. “Monsieur Felix is snooping around all our friends and relatives,” I announced. “Erik says we’re on the verge of discovering each other’s deepest, darkest sins.”
Jeremy grinned. “I have no big secrets, I assure you,” he said, then waggled his eyebrows at me.
“Nor I,” I replied. “Except that I’ve gone around taking tons of pictures of the tapestry. Someone’s bound to think it’s mighty suspicious behavior.”
“It is, come to that,” Jeremy agreed. I told him about Erik and Tim’s little past transgressions.
“So it would appear that whenever you put anybody under a microscope, even the innocent look flawed,” Jeremy said.
“Like gems,” I said. “Everybody’s ‘Very Slightly Included’,” I joked, thinking of the diamond and gemstone clarity ratings for flaws.
But then I reflected on this more soberly, thinking of one nagging question Monsieur Felix had asked.
Was there any public announcement that the tapestry would be in this house? Who, beyond your guests and servants, knew that you were bringing it here?
And the answer, of course, was, nobody. Not another soul knew that we were transporting the tapestry here. Just Celeste, the gardener . . . and my relatives and friends.
That afternoon, the phone rang again.
“Penny!” Honorine cried in great distress. “That man who works for you, do you know what he’s been up to? He’s going around poking his big nose in everybody’s business! He’s checked into bank records, taxes, everything. He’s even been to visit poor Tante Venetia. She says he nearly scared her half to death, showing up on her doorstep and asking all sorts of questions!”
“Oh, dear. Could you just explain to her that he’s simply trying to collect as much information as possible about the tapestry, in order to figure out every angle?” I explained apologetically.
“He has too many angles!” Honorine exclaimed. “It is too personal. Please tell him to stop, it is quite indiscreet.”
“Yes, of course,” I said hastily, ringing off.
I told this to Jeremy, and he muttered, “All right, we’d better give Felix a call. But I’m not the least bit surprised that he felt he had to check out the owner’s family.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You mean you knew he’d do this?” I demanded.
“No, of course not,” Jeremy said. “He probably just wants to make sure they’re not scamming.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“In case they ‘arranged’ the theft, and are now trying to collect on the insurance,” he explained.
I paused. “What?” said Jeremy, observing my expression.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“Spill it,” Jeremy advised.
“I don’t want to tell Monsieur Felix,” I said, flushed with guilt. “Because I could be wrong. I wish I didn’t even know.”
Jeremy had to prod me again before I finally told him that I believed I’d overheard Leonora, only a few weeks ago, upping the insurance premium on the tapestry. “But I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” I said stoutly. “She got all excited, thinking that I might find out it was worth more, that’s all. And it’s a good thing she did increase the premium, too, because while nothing can compensate them for the sentimental value of the tapestry, at least they’re not out of luck completely.”
Jeremy said, “Yes, well, let’s hope they didn’t just decide they wanted money
and
a tapestry.”
I was still shocked by that suggestion. “Leonora would never do that!” I exclaimed, but as soon as I said it I thought guiltily,
Would she?
I rapidly went over all her words and gestures of late, and I saw how easy it was to construe them this way, once cast in the ugly green glare of suspicion.
“When people get desperate enough, they do unwise things,” Jeremy said gently. “You did say that Leonora has been wanting to sell that tapestry for years, but Philippe wouldn’t permit it.”
For the first time, I felt truly irritated with Oncle Philippe. Why was he so willing to allow his beloved daughter to be married off into a loveless union with that boy Charles, just to protect his business interests, before he’d even think of selling that precious tapestry? And now, he may have caused his wife to take an extremely foolish risk.
“I may as well tell you,” Jeremy said, “I did notice that Honorine has been acting a little funny, so I asked her if she told any of her friends about the tapestry.”
“You didn’t!” I exclaimed.
“Hang on! For weeks she’s been skulking about with her mobile phone clapped to her ear, and every time I walk into the room, she quickly signs off. Very guiltily, it would seem,” Jeremy explained. “I wouldn’t have made an issue of it, but when this happened, I had to ask her, right to her face.”
“Good God,” I said. “Girls are always skulking around talking to their friends on the telephone. What’s the matter with you?”
“Well, she insists she told no one about the tapestry,” Jeremy said. “I believe her. I guess.”
“Oh, stop it!” I cried. “We can’t go around squinting suspiciously at everybody we know.”
“All right,” Jeremy said. “I’ll ask Monsieur Felix to give us an update on what he’s got.”
Monsieur Felix responded to the call by saying that he had planned to stop by anyway. He arrived in a battered black Renault. Once inside, he accepted the coffee I offered him, then consulted a long, old-fashioned notepad where he’d collected his facts.
“I know that we have ruffled some feathers with your family,” he said, nodding to me, yet without looking the least bit apologetic. “But, I assure you it was necessary. A mere formality, but we could not proceed without it. I thought you would wish to hear what I know.”
I saw him eyeing the croissants on the table rather hungrily, so I gestured toward them. He smiled, slightly embarrassed at being caught, then nodded appreciatively and picked up one in his big paw, wolfing it down in two or three bites, almost furtively, and following it with quick, deep gulps of coffee. I noted sympathetically that he was clearly a man who functioned “on the go”. I could picture him on a stakeout with his meals confined to a brown-bag, Hoover-it-in-quick status.
“Go on,” Jeremy said to him.
“I will begin with the person who appears the least suspicious,” Monsieur Felix said. “This ballet woman in Paris. Venetia. She has plenty of money in the bank, and no debts. I cannot find a single thing to link her to any such theft, since she is not the owner of the tapestry, and in fact gave it away, so there does not appear to be a sentimental value that would drive her to such an act. Shall I continue?”
“Please do,” said Jeremy.
Monsieur Felix went on to confirm that David and Philippe were in important negotiations for a merger of their perfume company with Charles’ father’s big pharmaceutical business. “Philippe wants his family to retain control of the management of the perfume company, so, naturally, he and his son David would not wish for their family’s difficult financial situation to be brought to light.”
“Is it very bad?” Jeremy asked quietly.
“Oh, not so different from others like him,” Monsieur Felix said. “Cash-flow problems. However, their personal finances are also quite tight.” He flipped a page over and said, “For instance, the son.” He went on to explain that, as it turned out, the solid, upright David had made some high- risk investments that tanked, and forced him to “borrow” company money to cover the losses. He, er, just recently repaid it, depleting his personal savings. His wife Auguste did not know this . . . until now.
“Holy cow,” I said, awed.
“One has to consider that he might have ‘arranged’ the disappearance of the tapestry, as a way to sell it against his father’s wishes,” Monsieur Felix explained. “As for Madame Leonora, apparently she had already raised the value of the insurance premium. This may be significant. It may not.”
I was just relieved that he’d found this out on his own, and I didn’t have to “rat out” my own relative. He consulted his pad again. “There remain the other dinner guests at the château on the night when you say you were first shown the tapestry, and Madame Leonora offered you the loan of it for your wedding day.”
As he reeled them off, my mind flashed back to that lovely weekend at Honorine’s house, when her family arranged that special dinner to introduce us to their friends and neighbors. The mayor, the general, the professor, and all their wives . . . surely not. Although, that professor has come very close to the tapestry to examine it, as if he knew its value. At this thought, I began to wriggle again worriedly. I didn’t want to finger anyone. This was a terrible job when it involved people you knew.
“I cannot say that there is any evidence against any of these individuals,” said Monsieur Felix. “Nor anybody’s servants, whom the police have thoroughly investigated. But I felt you would want a full accounting, in case what I have uncovered reminds you of something you would wish me to know. No one looks likely. But, for every thief, there is always a first time.”
“Yes, of course, go on,” Jeremy said, a little impatiently now, as if he wished to be done with it.
“Well, your English guests have their problems, too,” Monsieur Felix said bluntly.
There was a long pause as Jeremy eyed him indignantly. I just stared at Jeremy as if to say,
Huh
,
how do you like having YOUR family investigated, eh?
Jeremy caught my look, and allowed a wry smile.
“Your Uncle Giles is a man with many household expenses,” Monsieur Felix said, “which are normal enough—except that a real estate portfolio he owns has sharply decreased in value, so he has quite a bit of negative equity; and, of late, he’s had to borrow a substantial amount to cover this.”
“Good God,” Jeremy said, looking truly surprised. I was, too, even though I knew that many families went into debt trying to keep up with the Joneses. Nobody was more conscious of suburban status symbols than Giles and Amelia, but evidently it was a complicated matter.
“And then of course there is your grandmother’s decorator,” said Monsieur Felix. “Hilary once had a client who accused him of selling fake antiques. Took him to court but failed to prove it.” Monsieur Felix wetted the tip of his finger on his tongue, in order to turn the next page.
“Now, about this man Rollo,” he said. “I did not see his name on the Inspector’s report. He was at the villa when you decorated it, you say. Yet, he did not stay over that night, or return to the villa the next day, when you discovered the theft. Instead, he flew home to London that very evening?”
“Correct,” Jeremy said shortly. I knew what he was thinking. The night of the theft, Rollo didn’t even stay in his usual Riviera hotel. Didn’t even stop to gamble at the casino, or flirt with the girls at the clubs. He e-mailed me to tell me he went straight back to London, knowing that I’d be pleased that he was doing as I asked and staying out of trouble.