Free 02_Coyote in Provence by Dianne Harman Page B

Provence. I still don’t know why. I don’t know if he stole the paintings, or if someone else did and he’s just fencing them for the thief. I know he has a tattoo of a knife on his arm. I know what he looks like and people have told me his parents live in the area. I’m lucky I’ve found out that much, but it’s still not a lot to go on.
    He got out of his car and leisurely walked to the gallery. When he entered a bell tinkled, but no one came out to greet him. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the muted light in the gallery. He looked around, and there in the middle of several Provence landscape scenes, was a Donna Schuster hillside landscape watercolor.
    Good grief. I remember from my art history days that she was really well-known for her watercolors. I think she even earned a silver medal for one that was shown at the Los Angeles Museum of History, Science and Arts sometime around 1914. This is getting more and more interesting. All of the stolen paintings are landscape scenes which in some way fit in well with the Provence region. All of them have been reframed in similar frames. All of them have asking prices far less than what they would command at either California galleries or auction houses.
    “ Monsieur , may I trouble you for a moment?” Jordan asked the harried shopkeeper as he came into the gallery from the back room.
    “ Oui , what do you want?”
    “I have two questions. Could you tell me what you are asking for the Schuster painting? And is the man in this photograph the man you bought the Schuster from?”
    “The price is $2,500 in US dollars. That’s far less than what the painting is worth. Why do you want to know about the seller? I own the painting, and no, that is not the man I bought it from,” he said belligerently.
    “Are you sure that the man in the photograph is not the man you bought the painting from?”
    “I told you it’s not, didn’t I? I can’t help you. Excuse me. I have things I need to do,” he said, turning away from Jordan.
    “Thank you. If the man who sold you the painting should return, would you call me? Here is my card.”
    He left, knowing that the owner was very suspicious of him and would never call, even if the seller returned.
    It looks like Pierre must have an accomplice, at least when it comes to selling the paintings. Maybe the other man stole the paintings and Pierre is selling them because he’s French. So now I’m looking for two men. I thought it was a little too cut and dried. I don’t know who stole the paintings, and I have no motive other than that someone is getting money from the gallery owners for these stolen paintings.
    And why would the thief steal paintings valued from $250,000 to $2,500? That doesn’t make sense. The only thing I can think of is that he took what was easiest to grab off of the wall of the gallery and quickly get out of the gallery. I need to have the chief find out if the stolen paintings were displayed on the same wall, or if they were physically close to one another.
    The next two galleries yielded no stolen paintings.  By now it was 3:00 p.m. and Jordan was tired. He had a two hour drive ahead of him. He wasn’t going to Elena’s cottage until 7:00 that evening and he could use a nap, even if it was short. If last night was any indication, he needed to regain some of his strength.
    When he returned to the chateau he stretched out on the bed, and immediately fell asleep.  Fortunately, he’d set the alarm clock because it took him quite awhile to come out of his deep sleep and turn it off.  He laid there for several minutes, trying to recreate the dream he’d had of a woman who looked a lot like Elena. All he could remember was that she was dressed in a ghost-like gauzy gown and shrouded in mist. He’d tried to touch her, but whenever he got close enough, she disappeared, only to return a few feet away. He smiled, remembering the very warm Elena of last night who had eagerly responded to his