Frame Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 5)

by T'Gracie Reese

  “You’re not rubes. Not any of you.”

  “Ok, we’re not. But whatever we are, we deserve the truth.”

  He nodded his head, slowly:

  “All right. But you may find some of this hard to believe.”

  “As opposed to last night and this morning? Which are easy to believe?”

  There was just the smallest hint of a smile. Then he continued:

  “What do you know about international art smuggling?”

  Nina stared at him for a time, then said:

  “Last night. Carol had just been forced to––well, to do that awful thing. We went to see her in the hospital room. She seemed out of her head. She kept talking nonsense about being a smuggler…”

  “It wasn’t nonsense.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t nonsense. It was the truth.”

  “Are you insane?”

  A shake of the head:

  “No, I’m a criminal. And so is Carol.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “Smuggling, my dear Ms. Bannister, is not impossible.”

  “Smuggling drugs, yes, but…”

  “Drugs are cheap, compared to paintings.”

  “But, but—what paintings?”

  “In the last month? Van Gogh’s Poppy Flowers. Said to be worth fifty million dollars. View of the Sea at Schweiningen. Also a Van Gogh. Priceless. The View of Auverse sur Oise, Paul Cezanne, not signed by the artist, who felt it unfinished. Seventy million dollars. Nativity with St. Francis and St. Lawrence. Caravaggio. Priceless, as are all Caraveggios.”

  “But how––why…”

  “When I first hired Carol, in the early fall, I merely wanted her to take paintings from Chicago through the Frankfurt Airport and into Austria. She was to leave them in a hotel in Graz. There the representatives of a––let’s call him a ‘private collector’––would pick them up. For each painting she delivered, she was to be paid twenty thousand dollars.”

  “My God. But the story about your relationship beforehand…”

  “Was a complete lie. A complete and utter lie. When I first saw her, she was doing her presentations at The Chicago Art Museum. I felt that she would be perfect for my purposes. She knew her way around paintings, and around Europe. She was plain. Unassuming. And, I instinctively felt, completely honest. I found out all I could about her. No alcohol use to speak of. No boyfriends. No drug habit that had to be supported. She was perfect.”

  “So the trips she made in the early fall, after she came to live here…”

  “Were made for me.”

  “But how did that lead to…”

  “How did it lead to yesterday? It led there because things are simply never perfect. All of the paintings we were delivering to the collector I spoke of were at an earlier point in time stolen by the Nazis.”

  “From whom?”

  “From a group of wealthy Jewish families named ‘Reklaw’ who lived in the Caucasian Mountains of Russia. One of the descendants of these families, a character called ‘Lorca Reklaw,’ has apparently gone on a mad binge to get the paintings back. He heads an organization—we are not certain how large it is—that calls itself the Red Claw.”

  “After the family name ‘Reklaw.’”

  “Precisely. At any rate, as this organization somehow became richer and more sophisticated, it began to be, almost impossibly, aware of every move I made. My operatives were taken at various airports around the world.”

  “Taken?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were they murdered?”

  “We don’t know that. It’s still an open question. All I—and my employer––knew was that they simply disappeared. We thought they were to be sold back, for a huge ransom. We simply didn’t know.”

  “You know now?”

  “Let me continue: at any rate, once it became too dangerous to go through airports, we needed a new—well, a new method.”

  “Which was?”

  “We used you, Ms. Bannister.”

  You used…

  And finally, Nina began to see.

  “The paintings I sold…”

  “Covered the masterpieces I told you about.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “I’m sorry. It was cruel to use you in this way. But neither I nor Carol ever thought Reklaw would find out what was happening.”

  “And the people who paid $350 each for Old Red Mill and Old Red Barn…”

  “…were actually taking away from Bay St. Lucy some of the most valuable masterpieces in the world.”

  She could only sit for a time.

  Finally she said, quietly:

  “My viscous luminosity…”

  Again, the figure across the table from her shook his head.

  “As I say, I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  The screeching of peacocks on the grounds interrupted the silence...

  “And so, Carol, now…”

  Michael pursed his lips, then said:

  “This is going to be very difficult for you, Ms. Bannister.”

  She looked at him:

  “What? Is Carol…”

  He shook his head:

  “I received a phone call a short time ago.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “No. But the caller claimed to be a representative of Lorca Reklaw. He said that Carol was now en route to Austria.”

  “Oh no…”

  “He said that I would very soon be in the same situation. That, within days, all of the thieves would be brought together at the castle. That the castle would be burned, just as the Jewish ghettos were burned during the war. The thieves would be made to watch the burning, just as the Jews were forced to watch the destruction of their homes and property. That after watching this, the thieves would be loaded into trucks, taken away, and…dealt with.”

  “This is unthinkable. Inhuman.”

  A shrug.

  “I suppose those adjectives could be made to apply to a great deal that was done in the twentieth century.”

  “So…what are you going to do now?”

  Another shrug.

  “I could go into hiding.”

  “Do you think that would work?”

  “No. If Reklaw’s people could find Carol in Bay St. Lucy, then they could find me.”

  “So what will you do?”

  He stood up, walked to the railing of the deck, and looked out over the water. Then he said, as much to the gray incoming tide as to Nina:

  “I’m going after her.”

  She stood, too, and joined him at the deck.

  “You’re what?”

  Again, the hint of a smile.

  “I’m going after her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m still in possession of several priceless paintings. They are well hidden. Even Red Claw does not know their location, of that I’m certain. So, I intend simply to go to Eggenburg…”

  “To what?”

  “Schloss Eggenburg, the estate of Franz Beckmeier, the ‘collector’ I’ve been telling you about. I believe that by tomorrow, the palace will have been overrun by Red Claw’s men. I’m going to go there. And I’m simply going to beg for her life.”

  “You think he will listen to you?”

  “No. But she’s not like me, nor my other operatives. They were people of the world. Callous people, who, as myself, felt above the law. Carol is a simple girl. She has an elderly father waiting for her on a farm in rural Georgia. Maybe, by offering to give up the paintings, tell where they are––maybe that and…well ‘turning myself in’ as it were…maybe I can persuade the man to show some mercy.”

  “How are you going?”

  “I have flights arranged. This is an easy thing to do for someone in my business. I’ll leave this evening from New Orleans and be in Austria tomorrow. Perhaps it will be in time.”

  “I see.”

  Nina turned, went back to the table, and sat down.

  “I’m going
with you,” she said, quietly.

  He stared at her.

  “That’s stupid.”

  It was her turn to shrug:

  “Thinking that I had ‘viscous luminosity’ is stupid. Going to get Carol is not.”

  He continued to stare, incredulously.

  Finally, he took a step toward her and said:

  “And when the horrible Red Claw, the Jewish Revenge, the man who’s supposed to be seven feet tall and have a true claw instead of a hand—when this man looks at you and says: ‘Why should I let you go?’ What are you going to say?”

  “I’m going to say that I don’t much care if he lets me go. I’ve had a good life, and it’s coming to an end anyway—and that maybe it’s time now to be with Frank.”

  Michael sat down.

  Then he asked, quietly:

  “And when this creature asks, ‘Why should I let the young girl Carol Walker go, what are you going to say then?”

  Nina merely looked at him:

  “I’m going to say: ‘because I’m begging you to—and I’m her mother.’”

  An hour later, Nina found herself in front of Jackson Bennett’s law office, listening to the buzz on the door lock that told her that her approach had been noted.

  Jackson, she knew, had been sitting by the window, watching for her.

  She pushed the door open and stepped into the narrow stairwell.

  He appeared at the top of the steps, gesturing for to come up:

  His voice rattled the walls.

  “We still don’t know anything! I’m in contact with Moon all the time—he’s gotten permission to use some extra people from the force in Hattiesburg. Cops are all over the county, trying to get some leads.”

  She walked on up, saying nothing.

  “Nina, everybody in town is stunned that this thing could have happened. The hospital especially. They were all so worried that some killer might get in, they didn’t think to worry about Carol getting out.”

  They entered the office.

  It did what it always did: gave her a sense of melancholy, because she could visualize Frank sitting behind the desk.

  But it also reassured her.

  It was a kind of legal womb.

  When she’d been here, with Frank, she’d always known things would be ok.

  But now?

  Despite Jackson’s massive, comforting presence, were things going to be ok?

  What kind of insane thing was she planning to do?

  “I’m going to put another call in to Moon now. Maybe we can…”

  “Jackson, wait.”

  She took the letter out of her purse and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “A letter from Carol.”

  “From Carol? How the hell is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. It was on the table by the bed in the hospital. You need to read it.”

  He did, quickly.

  Then he looked up:

  “This is crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “You believe she really wrote this?”

  “Yes. I recognize her handwriting. She’s written several things to me over the last weeks—notes, memos, things that she’s done at Elementals while I wasn’t there, or errands that needed to be done. No, she wrote this all right.”

  “But––where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  This was a lie, of course.

  But in another way, it was the truth, too. She did not know where Carol was at the moment.

  She only knew where Carol was going.

  And where she herself was going.

  “Nina, what is this woman thinking?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  Jackson leaned forward on the desk:

  “She just shot someone! It was clearly in self-defense, but still…she can’t just walk out of town and disappear.”

  “That’s just what she’s done.”

  “How? She has no car!”

  “Maybe she took a bus. Maybe she’s hitchhiking. I just don’t know.”

  “And you have no idea where she’s headed?”

  Nina shrugged.

  “She could be going home.”

  “And where is that?”

  “Georgia. She grew up on a farm north of Athens. Maybe she’s gone back there.”

  “Where exactly is this farm? What town is it near, exactly?”

  “I don’t know, Jackson. I just don’t know.”

  “Great. So all we have to do is find all the people in Georgia named ‘Walker,’ and ask them if their daughter is home, because she has to testify in a shooting.”

  “Yes, that’s all we have to do. That and search Chicago, because for all we know she may have headed there.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake…”

  Now it was Nina’s turn to learn forward, saying as she did so:

  “Jackson, I know you have to go on looking for Carol.”

  “Of course, we have to go on looking for her! Somebody tried to kill her! Whoever it was, may try again. For that matter, somebody tried to kill you, tried to blow up Elementals! I still don’t like it one bit that you even went back to your place! For all we know…”

  “All you know, Jackson, is not very much.”

  And for a time, the room was silent.

  Jackson sat back in his chair.

  Finally he said softly, his voice rumbling like a throaty volcano:

  “And you know more?”

  She shook her head:

  “I know little Carol is a woman of the world. She doesn’t say a lot. And she’s not too impressive to look at, not too formidable. But she’s not dumb.”

  Jackson placed his palms down on the desk and stared at them for a time.

  Then he looked up and said:

  “That description could fit another woman I know.”

  Nina merely nodded.

  “Yes. Maybe.”

  Another pause, then:

  “Nina, what the hell is going on?”

  To which Nina replied:

  “Jackson, I may have to go away for a few days.”

  His eyes narrowed:

  “Go away?”

  “Yes.”

  “To where?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Why not?”

  She stood up, walked to the window, and looked out over downtown Bay St. Lucy. She whispered into the window glass:

  “You have to trust me on this.”

  “You know where Carol is, don’t you?”

  “Not at this time.”

  “Listen, Nina, for God’s sakes…”

  Then she returned to her chair, sat, and looked at Jackson.

  “I think I’ll be back in a few days.”

  “You think we’re going to let you go flying off…”

  “You don’t,” she interrupted, “have any choice.”

  “The hell we don’t! I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself caught up in, but…”

  “You don’t have any choice. Now. If you want to arrest me, do it.”

  “If we have to arrest you, then…”

  “Then I’ll get out of jail immediately. Because I haven’t done anything. And you know it.”

  “All right. Then I’ll have Moon arrest you as a material witness.”

  “To what?”

  “To…to…”

  She smiled.

  “You forget. I’m a lawyer’s wife. I’m no more a ‘material witness’ to anything than Furl is. Besides, that whole phrase only has meaning on Perry Mason shows.”

  He could not help smiling.

  “But that reminds me, Jackson. I don’t know, exactly, how long I’ll be gone. If you would take care of Furl…”

  He nodded.

  “You know I will.”

  “During the Aquatica mess you even took him over to your place for a while.”

  “Sure. The girls love him.”

  “And if––well, I don’t get back soon…�
�

  “Nina, what the hell are you talking about? Where are you going?”

  She forced herself to smile.

  “I’m going on a trip, Jackson. Frank and I never had the time to take one. And Carol and I have been planning one for the entire fall. Ever since she came here to stay with me. Well, now I’m going.”

  He looked at her for a time, then said:

  “You’re going to try to do something dangerous. And you’re going to try to do it alone.”

  She shook her head, as she stood up:

  “I’ll never be alone, Jackson. Whatever happens to me—and I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure what that will be—I’m a part of Bay St. Lucy, and Bay St. Lucy is a part of me. Just––just take good care of Furl, and say good bye to everybody for a while. Tell them I’ll write.”

  “Nina, don’t…”

  “And by the way, be sure to tell Moon’s deputy I’m sorry for calling the young man Dobie Gillis.”

  Jackson stood up:

  “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I overheard him talking to Moon just after you’d left.”

  “Was he upset?”

  “No. He didn’t know who Dobie Gillis was.”

  “Good bye, Jackson. And thanks for everything. Always.”

  And so saying, she turned and went down the stairs.

  END OF PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY: GOING TRAVELLING!

  The Hotel Erzherzog Johann—or Archduke John—is the oldest in Graz. Named for the city’s favorite Habsburg (because he was born in, and loved the Styrian state in which the city was located), it sits just on the eastern side of Hauptplatz, or main square. During summer months, the windows of its café open out onto the sidewalk, so that one can reach out, tap passers by on the arm, and sing out a morning’s greeting.

  Winters are more somber, of course, but the hotel is still not without its charm.

  There’s an inner atrium, the table and sofas flower-bedecked, around which, a wrought-iron grillwork bannister corkscrews its way up seven stories, at the top of which, a guests finds it possible to lean over and peer down sixty feet upon the bald heads or cleavages of card players or conversationalists in the lobby below.

  It was in this lobby that Michael Gellert was seated, a ‘kleiner Swarzen’ (little black one) swirling and steaming in its demitasse before him, when the dwarf arrived.

  There was nothing else to call him. He was no more than four feet tall, walked in a crooked way, and smiled upward with eyes that twinkled black like coal particles.