The Counterfeit Murder in the Museum of Man

Free The Counterfeit Murder in the Museum of Man by Alfred Alcorn

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Authors: Alfred Alcorn
touch.
    “Feidhlimidh de Buitliér, curator of the museum’s Greco-Roman Collection, confirmed earlier background reports that the coins, originally valued at more than two million dollars, were ‘extremely good copies.’ He added that they had been fabricated with a process that he had not encountered before.
    “De Buitliér told the
Bugle
that he had suspected the authenticity of the coins from the very start, but was discouraged from having them tested. An expert numismatist, the scholarly de Buitliér stated that ‘the coins all had the same feel. They were all too perfectly imperfect.’ A spokesperson for Authentech, an independent lab, said a sample of the coins were subject to EDXRF, energy dispersive X-ray fluorescence. The results showed that while the alloys in individual coins differed in their compositions, their constituent base metals were isotopically identical.
    “Von Grümh, the son of the late Albrecht Groome and owner of Natural Realty, was found murdered in his car on museum property on May 11. A spokesperson for the Seaboard Police Department, which is investigating the murder, said the discovery of the faked coins may or may not have a bearing on the case.
    “Malachy Morin, Vice President for Affiliated Institutions at Wainscott University, stated, ‘My office will shortly be conducting a thorough-going investigation into the museum’s acceptance of the forgeries. We will examine procedures involving acquisition, verification, provenance, and matters relating to a possible cover-up.’
    “An informed source, who did not want to be identified, said the university would also be investigating ‘rampant corruption and cronyism on the part of the museum’s management.’ ”
    I paused for a moment to let a flush of anger recede. Interesting, I thought. It sounded more like a prepared statement than something Mr. Morin, a verbal slob among other things, might be able to summon off the cuff.
    It also made me believe the rumors that he is now the real power behind President Twill, who, upon announcing his resignation, has become something of a figurehead.
    What the article failed to report is that the coins came to us with certificates of authenticity from, among others, the IBSCC, the International Bureau for the Suppression of Counterfeit Coins. Of course, the certificates themselves could have been faked.
    The
Bugle
piece went on, rehashing other murders at the MOM and taking indirect, gratuitous potshots at me. Gratuitous in the sense that the news of the forged coins was itself damaging enough. To learn by whatever means that some presumably priceless object or collection in one’s domain is a fake remains a museum director’s worst nightmare. A disputed provenance is bad enough. To have bought at several removes a Klimt or a Mondrian looted by the Nazis six decades ago suggests venality at worst. But fakes make us look incompetent and cast a long shadow of doubt on everything else we love, care for, and display.
    I cringed inwardly remembering how fulsomely we had wined and dined and feted and patted Heinie when he began to hint that he would donate his collection to the museum. How extravagant had been the unveiling ceremony just a couple of weeks before. How craven I had been to get my hands on those solidemblems of quotidian antiquity. Because there is something palpable, precise, ordinary, and romantic about old money. Countless Romans, Greeks, Hebrews, Persians, and others had handled these tokens of value. With them they had bought bread, wine, shelter, love, power, and betrayal. With images of gods, emperors, and Athenian owls stamped on them, old coins constitute nothing less than the hard currency of history. Who wouldn’t want to hoard them?
    I restrained myself from anything like an outburst until I arrived at the office. I restrained myself even when Doreen told me that “Mr. Butler,” as she referred to him, had already called and wanted to see me.
    “I’m sure he does,”

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