Free The Courbet Connection (Book 5) (Genevieve Lenard) by Estelle Ryan

up?”
    “No.” Colin shook his head. “No, he was just as shocked as I was when we were arrested. And he’s the reason I’m at the police station and not in some car on my way to Interpol’s Headquarters.”
    “So what happened?”
    “No,” I said. “First tell me about this Maurice Dupin.”
    “I’ve been dealing with him for the last eight years, always as Edward Taylor. We have a good working relationship, one built on trust. I can’t believe that he’s part of this. He often brings me artwork to authenticate. A few times I’ve identified them as forgeries and his clients were very pleased that they weren’t swindled. He phoned me last week, wanting to set up a meet. He had a painting he wanted me to look at. Said it was a masterpiece and would like for me to authenticate it.”
    “What was wrong with it?” I could see the evidence of it on Colin’s face.
    “It’s Gustave Courbet’s Nude Reclining Woman .”
    “Courbet? The same dude who painted the painting the kid was shouting about?”
    “The same.” Colin rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had been.
    “This new painting is causing you concern.” It was clear in his body language.
    “An understatement.” He shook his head. “ The Nude Reclining Woman has gone through some interesting legal battles. It was owned by a Hungarian collector before the Second World War. It vanished after it was looted by the Soviets in 1945 and turned up in 2000. It was offered for sale, but there was such a huge gap in its provenance that the Commission for Art Recovery got involved. It required five years of negotiations and three hundred thousand dollars before that painting was returned to the heirs of the original Hungarian owner.”
    “Why is the forgery such a problem, then?”
    “Because it was as brilliant as the last three I’d seen. I would bet my bottom dollar that it was done by the same artist. It had the same techniques, the same brushstrokes… I’m convinced it’s the same guy. Maurice said the owner had another five paintings he wanted me to look at. Apparently, this one needed to change hands quickly and we needed to meet today.”
    “Dude?”
    “No, Vin. I’m not a hundred percent sure that he didn’t set this up, but I really find it hard to believe.”
    “How did you land up in the cop house?” Vinnie nodded towards the police station.
    “I had just picked up the painting when those two Interpol goons rushed into the back of Maurice’s gallery and arrested us.”
    “Maurice Dupin owns a gallery?”
    “It’s called hiding in plain sight, Jenny. Anyway, they’d dragged us out of the gallery onto the street when Maurice made a run for it. Two patrol officers happened to be a few metres away and caught Maurice. I managed to convince them that I was not sure how real the Interpol agents were and that I would feel much safer if we all went to the police station.” Colin’s deception skills were exceptional, as were his persuasion skills.
    “I’m glad you’re a good liar.”
    Both Colin and Vinnie laughed at my honest statement. Siegfried’s Funeral March by Wagner rang loudly from my handbag. I pulled my hand out of Colin’s and glared at him while taking my smartphone from my bag. “Please stop changing my ringtones.”
    “This one is funny, Jenny.” Colin smiled when Manny’s face flashed on my smartphone screen. I huffed in annoyance.
    I swiped the screen. “Is there a problem?”
    “Well, hello to you too, Doc.” When I didn’t respond, Manny grunted loudly. “I’m going to be a while, Doc. You guys can go on home. I’ll phone again in a bit to find out from Fr… Mister Taylor what happened.”
    “How long is a bit?”
    “As long as it needs to be, missy.” Manny disconnected the call.
    I relayed his message to Colin and Vinnie, both happy to leave. The two men spent the whole trip to the office coming up with numerous unfounded hypotheses. By the time I was turning off my computer and preparing my office