Casebook 3: War with Russia - 3.6[index]
<<Constable? Is it?>> I said in my best French.
<<We have found Noet.>>
<<Then bring to me.>>
<<Apologies, sir. But I think that we will have to go to him.>>
He had smashed down onto the concrete out of his bathroom window. On the side of the building a giant mural of a Pierrot cried a single tear. It was signed 'Noet'. This time, I had been too quick for them. They had dangled their bait, but this time I had snapped it up faster than they had anticipated. Was she crying for him, or for the death of art? I asked myself, and smiled a little. It was the smile of a man wishing that this was the end of the story.
Back in his office, I watched as the Curator called for an expert to determine the authenticity of the recovered paintings. They were all from the Gallerie du Pompiconche and the emotions were daubed across his face as he waited to connect. If they are the originals, thank God for their return, but at what cost his reputation. Thirty paintings stolen from under his nose, and he couldn't detect even the first one. He had decided immediately who to call: