The Burglar Who Painted Like Mondrian (20 page)

“Nope,” I said. “He donated a fake, and he didn’t even cheat you by doing it. Because it never cost you people a penny. He defrauded the Internal Revenue Service, and they’ll probably have words with him on the subject, but he didn’t defraud you beyond making a horse’s ass out of you, and what’s the big deal about that? A bunch of school kids made a horse’s ass out of you just yesterday afternoon. You’ve got no claim on the painting.”

“Then who does?”

“I do,” Mrs. Barlow said. “The police officers took it from my apartment, but that doesn’t mean my husband and I relinquish title to it.”

“You don’t have title,” Reeves said. “You gave title to the museum.”

“Not true,” Wally said. “My client in Calgary should get the painting. It should have passed to Onderdonk, and so it now passes in fact to Onderdonk’s heirs.”

“That’s all nonsense,” Elspeth Petrosian cried. “That thief Barlow never had clear title to it in the first place. The painting belongs to me. It was promised to me by my grandfather, Haig Petrosian, and someone stole it before his wishes could be carried out. I don’t care what Barlow paid for it or who he did or didn’t sell it to. He never dealt with a rightful owner in the first place. That’s my painting.”

“I’d love to include it in the retrospective,” Mordecai Danforth said, “while all of this is being sorted out, but I suppose that’s out of the question.”

Ray Kirschmann went over and put a hand on the painting. “Right now this paintin’s evidence,” he said, “and I’m impoundin’ it. The rest of you got your claims and notions and you can fight it out, but the paintin’ goes downtown while you drag each other through the courts, and once the lawyers get started it could go on for a good long while.” To Reeves he said, “If I was you, I’d take that other one downtown and hang it back where it was. By the time the papers write this up, half the city’s gonna want to look at it, fake or no. You can waste time worryin’ about lookin’ like a horse’s ass, but that’d just make you more of a horse’s ass, because whatever you look like they’re gonna be lined up around the block to look at this thing, and what’s so bad about that?”

“T
his is a nice place,” Carolyn said, “and they make a hell of a drink, even if they do charge twice as much as they should for it. Big Charlie’s, huh? I like it.”

“I thought you would.”

“I like the girl playing piano, too. I wonder if she’s gay.”

“Oh, God.”

“What’s wrong with wondering?” She took a sip, set down her glass. “You left some things out,” she said. “Explaining everything and making all the bits and pieces fit together, you left a few things out.”

“Well, it was confusing enough as it was. I didn’t want to make it impossible for people to follow.”

“Uh-huh. You’re a considerate guy. You left out the bit about the cat.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Two men had been murdered and a couple of paintings had been stolen. I couldn’t waste people’s time talking about a kidnapped cat. Anyway, he’d been ransomed and returned, so what was the point?”

“Uh-huh. Alison was Haig Petrosian’s other granddaughter, wasn’t she? The other one at the dining room table on Riverside Drive. She’s Elspeth’s cousin, and her father was Elspeth’s Uncle Billy.”

“Well, the resemblance was striking. Remember how you stared at Elspeth in my shop? The funny thing is at first I thought Andrea was the missing cousin, because she and Elspeth both have this habit of cocking their heads to the side, but that was just coincidence. The minute I saw Alison I knew she was the cousin and not Andrea.”

“Andrea Barlow.”

“Right.”

“You left her out, too, didn’t you? You didn’t mention running into her in Onderdonk’s apartment, let alone rolling around on the rug with her.”

“Well, certain things ought to stay private,” I said. “One thing she told me was true enough. She had been having an affair with Onderdonk, and as it happens her husband knew about it, which probably added to the zest with which he killed the man. Then he must have gloated over the man’s death, and Andrea had visions of a police search of the premises uncovering some pictures Onderdonk had taken of the two of them with a time-release Polaroid. She went back for them, found them or didn’t find them, who the hell knows, and then I walked in on her. No wonder she was terrified. She must have already found Onderdonk’s body in the closet, so she knew it wasn’t him, but who could it be? Either the police, in which case she had some fancy explaining to do, or her murderous husband coming to kill her and leave her there with her dead lover. Either way she was in deep trouble.”

“And she was so relieved it was you that she was overcome with passion.”

“Either that or she figured it made sense to screw her way to safety,” I said, “but I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. But why mention all of that to the police?”

“Especially since you’d like to verb her again.”

“Well—”

“And why not? She’s got a nifty pair of nouns. I think I need another one of these, and don’t you just love the little getups the waitresses wear? Let’s order another round, and then you can tell me what really happened with the paintings.”

“Oh, the paintings.”

“Yeah, the paintings. This one’s from here and that one’s from there and this one’s cut out of the frame and that one isn’t and who can keep it all straight? I know some of what you said was true and I know some of it wasn’t, and I want the whole story. But first I want another of these.”

Who could deny her anything? She got what she wanted, first the drink and then the explanation.

“The painting Ray gave back to Orville Widener, the insurance guy, was one that Denise and I painted,” I said. “Naturally Barlow destroyed the canvas he took from the Onderdonk apartment. All he had to do was slash it to ribbons and put it down the incinerator, and I’m sure he did just that. The canvas I gave to Ray, which he in turn gave to Widener, was the portion I cut out of the frame that I left at the Hewlett. And it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t match the piece of frame that was left in the closet with Onderdonk’s corpse, because that frame will get conveniently lost. Ray’ll see to that.”

“What about the painting Reeves took back with him? Was that the one you took from the Hewlett? Did they have an acrylic fake on display all along?”

“Of course not. Turnquist was an artist and he wasn’t in a hurry. He didn’t use acrylics. He used oil paints, same as Mondrian, and the painting in the Hewlett was one of his.”

“But what Reeves took back with him—”

“Was a second fake that Denise and I did, tacked to the stretcher from the Hewlett. Remember, it was the incused mark on the stretcher that convinced him. I’d already unstapled the canvas and taken the frame apart to get the painting out of the museum. When I put it back together, I just tacked the acrylic fake to the Hewlett frame.”

“And Reeves thinks that’s what he had all along.”

“So it would appear, and what’s the difference? A fake is a fake is a fake is a fake.”

“I didn’t know Denise painted more than one fake.”

“Actually she painted three of them. One got cut up, with the frame and some fragments left at the Hewlett and the rest of it returned to Orville Widener. The other went back to the Hewlett with Reeves.”

“And the third?”

“Is hanging on a wall in the Narrowback Gallery, and it’s a little different from the others in that the signature monogram is DR instead of PM. She’s pretty proud of it, although I had a hand in it myself, and so did Jared.”

“She painted three fakes and Turnquist painted two. You said Barlow destroyed one of the Turnquist fakes. What happened to the other one? The one you lifted out of the Hewlett.”

“Ah,” I said. “It’s been impounded.”

“Jesus, Bern. That was the
real
real one that was impounded, the one Mondrian himself painted, remember? Everybody’s claiming it and there’ll be court cases for years and—oh.”

I guess I must have smiled.

“Bern, you didn’t.”

“Well, why not? You heard what Lloyd Lewes said. He looked at the canvas the two cops brought in and said it was an oil painting and it looked right. Why shouldn’t it look right? After all, it sat in the Hewlett for years and nobody suspected a thing. Now it can sit in a locked closet at Number One Police Plaza for a few more years and nobody’ll suspect a thing there, either. I took it along with me when I let myself into the Barlow apartment last night, stapled it to a stretcher and left it where the cops would find it.”

“And the real Mondrian?”

“It was in the Barlow apartment when I got there, of course. I took it off its stretcher and stapled Turnquist’s fake in its place. I had to have a stretcher for the Turnquist canvas, remember.”

“Because you used the stretcher it was on in the Hewlett for one of Denise’s fakes.”

“Right.”

“You know what the trouble is, Bern? There’s too many Mondrians. It sounds like a Nero Wolfe novel, doesn’t it?
Too Many Cooks, Too Many Clients, Too Many Detectives, Too Many Women.
And
Too Many Mondrians.
”

“Right.”

“Denise painted three acrylic fakes, Turnquist painted two oil fakes, and Mondrian painted one. Except his was a real one, and are you gonna keep me in suspense forever, Bern? What happens to the real one?”

“It’s going to go to the rightful owner.”

“Elspeth Petrosian? Or Alison? She’s got as much real claim on it as her cousin.”

“Speaking of Alison—”

“Yeah,” she said heavily. “Speaking of Alison. When you figured they were cousins, that was how you knew Elspeth Peters was Armenian. And you looked through the phone book and—”

“Not quite. I looked through papers in Alison’s office and found out her maiden name. That’s a little simpler than reading the phone book.”

“Is that where you got the cat?” She put a hand on mine. “I couldn’t help figuring it out, Bernie. She took my cat, didn’t she? And that’s why she used the Nazi voice when she talked with me, because I would have recognized her real voice. She talked normally with you because she’d never met you. And she was nervous when we got to my place and you were there, because she thought you might recognize her voice from over the phone. Did you?”

“Not really. I was too busy recognizing the resemblance between her and her cousin Elspeth.”

“She wasn’t really that bad,” Carolyn said thoughtfully. “She didn’t hurt Archie, except for cutting his whiskers, and that’s a far cry from mutilating him. And the closer she and I got, the more reassuring the Nazi became over the phone, until there was a point where I pretty much stopped worrying about the cat. You know something? When we got back to the apartment and the cat was there, I think she was as relieved as I was.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

She sipped her drink. “Bern? How’d she get past my locks?”

“She didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“Your cats liked her, remember? Especially Archie. She went through another building into the courtyard and coaxed him through the bars of the window. A person couldn’t get in, but a cat could get out. That’s one reason there were no traces of her visit inside the apartment. She never went inside the apartment except when she was with you. She didn’t have to. The cat walked right out into her arms.”

“When did you dope that out?”

“When I saw Ubi measuring the distance between the bars with his whiskers. They fit, which meant his head would fit, which meant his whole body would fit, and I knew that’s how it was done. Which meant it had to be done by somebody the cat liked, and you told me early on how much the cat liked Alison.”

“Yeah, animals are great judges of character. Bernie, were you gonna tell me all this?”

“Well—”

“Either you were or you weren’t.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure. You seemed to be having a good time with Alison and I figured I’d let the relationship run its course before I said anything.”

“I think it’s run its course.” She knocked back the rest of her drink and sighed philosophically. “Listen, I got my cat back,” she said, “and I had a little excitement, and Alison was a big help at the Hewlett. I don’t know if I could have managed the firecracker and the fire and everything without her. And I got laid, so why should I hold a grudge?”

“That’s about how I felt about Andrea.”

“Plus I might want to see her again.”

“That’s exactly how I felt about Andrea.”

“Right. So I came out of it okay.”

“Don’t forget the reward.”

“Huh?”

“From the insurance company. The $35,000. Ray’s getting half of what’s left after Wally takes his fee, and the rest gets cut up between you and Denise.”

“Why?”

“Because you both worked for it. Denise labored like Michelangelo on the Sistine Chapel, and you risked arrest at the Hewlett, and for that you get rewarded.”

“What about you, Bern?”

“I’ve got Appling’s stamps, remember? And his wife’s ruby earrings, except I don’t think they’re rubies. I think they’re spinels. And it’s funny, I almost feel bad about keeping them, but how could I put them back? If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that I’m never going to break into the Charlemagne again.”

“I forgot about the stamps.”

“Well, I’m going to sell them,” I said, “and then we can all forget about them.”

“Good idea.” Her fingers drummed the tabletop. “You stole those stamps before any of this happened,” she said. “Well, almost. While you were breaking into Appling’s apartment, Barlow was murdering Onderdonk. That gives me a chill to think about.”

“Me too, when you put it that way.”

“But most of what happened came after you took the stamps, and you didn’t get anything for that part of it. You just spent a lot of money and had to post bond.”

“I’ll get the bond back. I’ll have paid a fee to the bondsman, but that’s no big deal. Wally won’t charge me anything, not with all the business I threw his way. And I had a few incidental expenses, from cab rides to the icepick I planted in Jacobi’s room.”

“And the chloral hydrate you planted in Onderdonk’s apartment.”

“That wasn’t chloral hydrate. That was talcum powder.”

“The cop said it tasted like chloral hydrate.”

“And Ray said there was a voiceprint record of Jacobi’s telephone tip, and that there was blood on the icepick. This may come as a shock, Carolyn, but cops have been known to tell lies.”

“It’s a shock, all right. Anyway, you had expenses, and all you get is your freedom.”

“So?”

“So don’t you want part of the reward? Thirty-five thousand less Wally’s fee’ll be what? Thirty thousand?”

“Call it that. I don’t know if he’ll dare grab off that much, but lawyers are hard to figure.”

“Thirty grand less half to Ray leaves fifteen, and if we cut that three ways it’s five apiece, and that’s plenty. Why don’t you take a third, Bern?”

I shook my head. “I got the stamps,” I said, “and
that’s
plenty. And I got something else, too.”

“What? A shot at Andrea and a shot at Eve DeGrasse? Big deal.”

“Something else.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” I said. “It’s all right angles and primary colors, and I’m going to hang it over my couch. I think that’s the best place for it.”

“Bernie!”

“I told you,” I said. “The Mondrian’s with its rightful owner. And who do you know who’s got a better right to it?”

And I’ll tell you something. It looks gorgeous there.