by SL Beaumont
Chapter 15
Michael arranged to meet Stephanie at the café after her shift on Monday afternoon. The café’s menu now had a New Zealand flavour to it. Andy had sampled and enjoyed the flat white that Stephanie had made for him, after initially teasing her by pretending to choke on it. When Michael arrived, she was standing on a chair and adding it to the blackboard on the back wall, drawing a kiwi and the New Zealand flag beside it, just so there was no doubt as to its origin. They sat at a table by the window and he handed her a manila folder containing the results of the search he had run for her.
“Basically I cross-referenced the twenty-five names you gave me with each other and the list of artists, and here are the top five results for each name. Several had no matches. But a couple of them gave a lot more than five positive results. I’ve saved it all onto a USB drive for you.” He fished around in his pocket and produced a slim USB stick which he handed to her.
“What’s a positive result mean?” she asked.
“That’s where both the person’s name and the artist are fully mentioned, not just combinations of the words,” he explained. “What you have here are at least one hundred websites to visit and review, although some are just different pages within the same website – I’ve highlighted those in the same colour so that you can knock them off quicker. It’s all on the drive, but sometimes it’s easier to digest this much information and the cross links on paper. This guy Hoffman for example, he had lots of matches. Was he a collector?”
“No, a museum curator, I think,” Stephanie said. “Reading all of this is gonna keep me out of trouble for a while.” She smiled at Michael. “Thank you so much for doing this. Remember it’s just between me and you. okay?” she said.
“Sure thing, Steph. Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?” he asked.
“Hey, you two look like you are plotting,” a voice interrupted them.
Stephanie instinctively slammed the folder shut and jumped to her feet. Jack stood in front of them grinning. He reached out a hand and steadied her as she overbalanced into him.
“Whoa, there, Steph. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
Stephanie blushed. She slipped the USB stick into her jeans pocket. “That’s okay,” she murmured.
Behind Jack she noticed James leaning against the door frame, watching the interchange with interest. How long he had been standing there and what he had overheard, she didn’t know. His eyes were hooded. She quickly looked away.
“Thanks, Michael,” she said as she picked up her bag, shoving the manila folder into it and walking quickly towards the door. “Excuse me,” she said quietly to James who was blocking the doorway.
“What are you up to, Stephanie? You look guilty – like you are doing something you shouldn’t be.” He tilted his head to one side and studied her.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Gotta go.” She went to push past him.
He put his hand across the doorway, blocking it further, “What? No more smart-arse comments?”
“Yeah, sorry – all out of those right now. Now, excuse me!” she said.
He didn’t move, so she had to slide under his arm to get through the doorway. He held her gaze defiantly as she squeezed through. I could never be a spy, she thought, her heart thumping. He’s right, I feel guilty. She walked a few steps and glanced back over her shoulder. James stood there watching her, his face unreadable. She scowled at him and hurried away. She hoped that he and Jack weren’t going to be too tough on Michael and that he wouldn’t cave and tell them. It wouldn’t take James much to conclude that she was still looking into something related to his family. And she knew what his reaction to that would be.
She walked down the hill towards the village green where the local museum was situated. It was housed in a sympathetically restored building with whitewashed stone walls and a thatched roof. She had to duck her head as she went in through the low doorway. While she waited for the lady behind the reception desk to retrieve the information that she had requested, she took a wander around. According to the exhibits, Carlswick had been a haven for smugglers back in the days when the sea came right up to a harbour in the little town, before it steadily silted up over the last two to three hundred years. The stories of daring smugglers were numerous and included rumours that some of the larger homes nearby had tunnels from the old harbour linking up with their basements and cellars to aid the smugglers. Stephanie gave a shiver. How exciting, I’m going to have to read up on that.
“Here we are, dear,” the lady called from the front desk, a large manila envelope in her hand.
“Thanks,” Stephanie said as she opened it. It contained a photocopy of the official report into the collaboration claims and note suggesting that she could try the library for any local memoirs or diaries from the war.
Saying her goodbyes, she went and sat on a bench in the sun scanning the report – the claims were explosive, but James was right, the Knoxes had been completed exonerated. Read with 21st-century sensibilities, it did just seem like hysteria. Interestingly though, a lot of the names mentioned in Sophie’s diary were in the report. So someone other than Sophie and David had been taking note of who was visiting Knox Manor too. There were no mentions in Sophie’s diary that she had been talking to the officials. In fact she had seemed shocked by the investigation.
Stephanie continued to ponder the painting in the library and what to do about it. She was really no further ahead in discovering anything more about it or how it came to be there. It would only make the feud between her family and the Knox family worse if she started throwing around unsubstantiated allegations, and probably just make her look like an idiot in the process. What to do?
The week passed slowly. Between working at the café, Skyping Toby, who had excitedly told her that they were flying over to have Christmas with her, and devouring the history pre-reading that she had been set, Stephanie managed to keep a low profile. She had downloaded Robert Edsel’s Monuments Men to her iPad and was learning more about the extent of the Nazis’ looting during the war.
James continued to outwardly ignore her, although she could have sworn that he watched her carefully whenever he was at the café. She assumed that he hadn’t discovered her extracurricular activities. She was sure that he would have confronted her if he had. Whatever – I won’t give him the satisfaction of even acknowledging him, she decided.
I am completely off guys, she told herself, especially those of the musical variety.
Andy called Stephanie early on Thursday morning to see if she could work during the day, as the band was rehearsing at the pub, for an upcoming musical festival.
It was a long day. Stephanie was beginning to rue the fact that she had agreed to work quite so much, as the sun beat down outside. There was quite a crowd across the road at the pub, obviously gathering for the free live music.
Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief when Andy arrived at four pm to help her close up. She said goodbye as he locked the door behind her and wandered across the road to the pub car park, where she had parked the Fiat that morning. As she approached, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up – something was amiss. She slowed and walked cautiously towards her car. She gasped as she saw that her windscreen was smashed and a brick was lying on the driver’s seat amidst shards of glass. Written in black letters on the brick were the words:
You may look like her, but don’t end up like your aunt