Free Gauguin Connection, The by Estelle Ryan

anonymous tips at numerous police stations, at last there might be someone who could put a stop to this senseless killing of great talent. None of the other investigators or agencies ever took it to be a real threat. And it was not like I could walk in and try to convince them. At least now I have you.”
    “You do not have me.” Each word was slowly pushed through my teeth. No one laid claim to me. It was detestable.
    “Oh, I think I do. You are untainted by all that power, bureaucracy and traditional thinking. You’re also intrigued by the connections.” He moved to the edge of my reading chair and rested his hands on his knees as if ready to push himself up. “You will come up with the necessary physical evidence and connections to catch the bad guys and end this.”
    “Bad guys?” I had to smile at his use of that term. “Aren’t you a bad guy?”
    “You know that I’m not.” He spoke with total confidence in his good character. I narrowed my eyes and considered this. He interrupted my pondering with concern pulling the corners of his mouth down. “I don’t know how, but the EDA is up to their necks in this. Why else would there be so many forgeries and deaths in all the places that the EDA can be found?”
    “Conjecture. They are the European Defence Agency. Of course you’re going to find their presence throughout Europe.”
    “Maybe.” He thought for a moment. “Have you looked into the Russian guy who killed the girl? Have you looked for a Russian connection?”
    “A Russian connection? Is there one?”
    “Find it,” was the only answer he gave me after a staring at me for a long while. “There is also a lot more about that girl than meets the eye. You should see what you can find out about her. While you are at it, look into ships too.”
    “Ships?” This man was infuriating me now with all his cryptic suggestions. The Russians, the girl, ships. Why could people never just say something straight out? He had told me a lot, yet I felt like I had only received the first four words of a paragraph. Not one sentence was complete. It was confusing, frustrating and deliciously challenging.
    He got up and turned to the guest bathroom, ignoring my question. “I really have to go. It was wonderful meeting you. It’s going to be fun working with you.”
    I jumped up from my chair and glared at him. “There will absolutely be no working together. Do you really think that I will work with you?”
    “Of course. You’re going to need me.” He started walking away from me. “Walk me out.”
    I was hard pressed to not go on the offence and attack him with some of my self-defence training. It would release a lot of the residual anger whirling around in me. I managed to breathe through it. “The front door is in the other direction, Colin.”
    “I know,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m going to leave the way I came in.”
    I followed him to the guest bathroom at the back of my apartment and gasped at the gaping hole in the ceiling where he had removed the cover leading to the ventilation system.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll put this back so neatly, you won’t even know that I’ve been here.” He effortlessly lifted himself into the man-sized hole, disappeared for a moment and then peeked back. “Don’t bother securing this entrance. There are at least another six ways that I can enter your apartment.”
    “You could always just ring the doorbell.”
    “You would never open the door for me.” He gave me a genuine smile. “It’s really been a pleasure, Jenny.”
    His head disappeared into the darkness of the ventilation system. A moment later the cover closed the hole and it was as if there hadn’t been a thief in my home. An intruder insisting on my trust and co-operation.
    “My name is Genevieve,” I said to the bathroom ceiling. A shudder rolled through me and I walked back to the living area. The only evidence that he’d been in my apartment was the untouched cup of camomile tea on