The Netscher Connection

by Estelle Ryan

  I was familiar with the badly concealed excitement on her face. “What did you uncover?”

  “Nothing too scandalous, I’m sad to say.” She paused when she noticed that I’d pushed myself into the corner of the room. Her eyes narrowed for a second, then she sat down next to Manny. She swiped her tablet screen. “I managed to find most of Olivia’s whereabouts the last three days.”

  “How did you do that?” There was only interest in Andor’s question.

  “I know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who gave me legal access to all the street cameras in Budapest.”

  “And let me guess.” Manny glared at her. “You then went and found more cameras without the proper authorisation.”

  “Do you really want me to respond to that?”

  He pushed his fists into his trouser pockets. “No, I don’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Colin took a step closer to Francine. “What did you find?”

  “That girl has a great sense of fashion. And she visited four places of note.” She glanced at her tablet. “Her first stop was István Koltai’s office. Then she went for lunch and a bit of shopping before going to a small art gallery.”

  This caught Colin’s attention. “What art gallery?”

  “Elite-Art.” Francine winked at Colin. “I thought it would get your attention. So I made sure to find out as much as I could about the place. The owner is Pál Elo and he’s quite well known in the Hungarian art industry.”

  “I know Pál.” Colin tilted his head. “He’s a legend when it comes to authenticating masterpieces. He’s made many enemies and many friends over the years.”

  “Well, Olivia was there for only three minutes. I got her from the city camera on the other side of the street. Quite good-quality footage I might add. Anyhoo, she spoke to a young woman who I assume manages the gallery when Pál Elo isn’t there. This young woman shook her head a few times and when Olivia left, she looked frustrated. I reckon she was exhausted after the long flight from New York and jet lag was getting to her, because she then came to the hotel and stayed here until the next morning. Then she visited two places that I’m still working on getting the details for.”

  “We need to find out why she was looking for Pál.” Colin walked back to the wardrobe. “And what she was investigating.”

  “I might be jumping the gun here with assumptions and such, but it looks to me like Olivia was trying to figure out whether a painting in her client’s last will and testament was stolen, forged or something like that.” Andor looked at Colin, his expression speculative. “The question is what artwork or painting she was looking into and what had made her so paranoid.”

  “The more important questions are why she disappeared and where she is at this moment.” Colin took a large dark blue suitcase from the back of the cupboard, put it on the floor and opened it. It was empty.

  “Um.” Andor waited until Colin looked at him. “I know I’m a complete outsider, but can you please tell me what your connection is to Olivia Webster?”

  Colin straightened and looked at Andor for a few seconds. “We almost got married.”

  “What the bleep?” Andor stood up, then sat down again. “That’s... well, that’s huge. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “You’re a complete outsider.” The corner of Colin’s mouth quirked to soften the words Andor had used himself. “Just think of it as extra motivation for me to help you.”

  “Hmm.” Andor tilted his head. “You still care about her.”

  “Hey, watch it, buddy.” Francine’s expression was fierce as she pointed a manicured finger at Andor. “There’s no need to get personal here.”

  Colin chuckled. “Well, if I almost got married to our missing person, it is kind of personal. But thanks for standing up for me, Francine.”

  “You betcha.” She shook her finger at Andor. “And you better not think about climbing into Colin’s character. He’s the best human being you’ll ever meet.”

  Manny snorted, then winced when Francine kicked his shin. “Frey is level-headed. And much smarter than you, Garas. You’ll lose every time you even think of catching him out.”

  Colin wasn’t fast enough to mask his shock at Manny’s compliment. I’d seen it. Andor had also seen it. His eyes narrowed again in the manner I now recognised he did when he was contemplating something.

  Being non-neurotypical, I experienced life very differently from my friends. I didn’t need to communicate my thoughts or emotions to feel understood and appreciated. I also didn’t need reassurances or platitudes to give me confidence in who I was and what I did. But I was non-neurotypical.

  Colin was neurotypical. Yet he was so unlike many of the neurotypical people I’d studied and known. His altruism bordered on self-sacrifice. And he never expected acknowledgement, gratitude or even a mention of all the assistance he gave everyone. I’d never heard anyone in our circle of friends outright vocalise their appreciation for him.

  I thought about Colin’s role in my life. “Your unconditional support has made me a stronger individual.”

  Colin jerked and turned to me. His expression softened and he walked around the bed to stand in front of me. He took both my hands in his and placed them against his chest. “Thank you, love.” He smiled and shook his head when I inhaled to speak. “This is maybe not the time or place for intimate conversations.”

  I looked around the room and cringed. Manny appeared most uncomfortable and Andor’s eyes were narrowed to thin slits as he watched us. I needed to change the topic. “The suitcase?”

  “Yes, the suitcase.” He kissed me lightly on my nose and walked back to the large designer piece of luggage on the floor.

  No one spoke. We watched as he ran his hands along the outside of the expensive piece of luggage. He lifted the lid again and inspected every centimetre with the tips of his fingers. “Nothing here.” His whisper was barely audible. He flexed his fingers, then gently touched the lined sides of the case.

  I saw the moment he discovered something. His body tensed and his breath hitched. He leaned closer, obscuring my view. I couldn’t stand not knowing. “What did you find?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shifted to the side so I could see, carefully prying away the lining. “But I think it might be a notebook or something.”

  “Then get it out, Frey.” Manny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “No need to protect her suitcase.”

  “And there’s no need to destroy it.” He straightened, holding a small notebook in his hand. On a deep inhale, he opened it and immediately smiled. “It’s in code.”

  “Bloody hell.” Manny frowned. “Why do you think it’s funny?”

  “It’s just such a Liv thing to do.” Colin turned a few pages, then focused on a single page for a few seconds. He nodded. “She’s using the code I taught her.”

  “Um.” Andor got up and stood next to Colin, his corrugator supercilii muscles pulling his brow down in a deep frown. “Do you know what it’s saying?”

  Colin sat back on his haunches and looked at me. “I’ll need a few hours to translate the whole book.”

  I nodded. I wouldn’t mind a few hours at my computer. I needed to find out as much as I could about István Koltai, his company Július, Elite-Art Gallery, and everyone else so far mentioned in this case.

  “Can’t you do any of that now?” Manny tapped his foot and glared at the notebook.

  “No. I need...” Colin frowned and stared at the notebook. “Shit. I don’t need to translate this.” He looked at me. “She was looking into a Caspar Netscher painting.”

  “She didn’t write that in code.” I thought about this. “Why not?”

  “Maybe she did this as a safeguard. In case something happens to her and someone discovers her notes, they will at least be able to follow up on that one clue.”

  “How the hell does that help us?” Manny slumped into the chair. “And who is this Casper the Friendly Ghost?”

  “Caspar Netsche
r was a seventeenth-century Dutch artist.” Colin closed the notebook. “Today there are more than two hundred paintings undoubtedly attributed to Netscher. But there are another four hundred that are speculated to have also been painted by him. Some scholars speculate that the number of works is much higher than that.”

  As usual, Colin’s features became more animated as he talked about art. He smiled. “No one really knows when Netscher was born. It was either 1636 or 1639 and it was either in Heidelberg or in Prague. What we do know is that he was a master at portraying the social interactions of the Dutch elite. He was known for his outstanding portraits and in high demand by the who’s who of that time.

  “His play with shade and light, his use of accurate and often brilliant colouring made his portraits come to life. He had a light touch and his patrons loved the way he portrayed them. He was one of the few artists who managed to become rich and famous while he was still alive.”

  He stopped when Francine’s phone pinged. She took her phone from her cherry-red handbag and looked at the screen. “Vinnie is asking when we’re going to be finished. He’s ready to start cooking dinner for us.”

  “It’s too early for dinner.” I looked out the large windows, but couldn’t determine the hour. Even in early autumn, I still lost track of time when the days were still a bit longer.

  Colin looked at his watch. “Not really. If we pack up here and leave for the villa, we’ll be there at around half past five. It’s an early dinner, but we didn’t have lunch.”

  “And I’m starving.” Francine put her phone and tablet in her handbag.

  “What did you mean pack up here?” Andor looked at Colin.

  “I’m not leaving Liv’s things here. Not while she’s missing.”

  “Is this a crime scene?” Manny didn’t even wait for Andor to shake his head. “Then there’s no reason to leave anything untouched. There’s no evidence of a struggle or a crime. Her handbag, passport and phone are not here, so she could be on a day trip for all we know. We take her stuff with us. Once we know where Olivia is, we’ll give it all back to her.”

  I frowned and tilted my head. “Why are you lying?”

  “Bloody hell, Doc.” Manny’s lips pulled into a thin line. “I’m not lying. I just don’t plan to give her notebook back to her.”

  Colin and Manny started arguing about the notebook. Soon, Francine got involved and even got Andor to voice his opinion. I didn’t care about their argument. I was far too troubled watching Colin and Francine stuff Olivia’s belongings into the suitcase. Her blouses were crushed into small bundles, her trousers folded in a manner that would leave horrid creases.

  When Colin started folding another pair of trousers, I could no longer watch. I grabbed the piece of clothing from him and put myself in front of the suitcase. While they continued their inane arguing and even moved on to different topics, I carefully packed all Olivia’s belongings in her suitcase.

  It gave me time to plan everything I wanted to research. I also thought of a few questions I needed to ask Colin, but decided against it. He would be too distracted deciphering Olivia’s notes. My questions about her investigative methods were not as important as the information we could glean from what she’d written in that book. I hoped it wouldn’t take Colin too long to decode.

  Chapter SEVEN

  I inhaled deeply and held my breath. The early morning air in the forest next to the villa had a specific scent that was pleasing to my senses. I’d been walking for the last fifteen minutes, trying to clear my head of the influx of information.

  We’d spent most of the night trying to decode Olivia’s notebook. That had happened after a quick video call with Nikki and Émile. They’d decided to stay the night in Vienna instead of driving straight through to Strasbourg. Manny and Vinnie had been most displeased. Nikki had giggled and assured them that she was safe. The intensity on Émile’s face when he promised to keep her safe had been sincere. It had pleased me that I could focus on the notebook without any more concerns about Nikki and Eric.

  Colin had been surprised and impressed with the sophistication of the code in Olivia’s notebook. She’d taken what they’d used and had changed it in such a manner that Colin had been stumped. After an hour of not making any progress, he’d called for my help.

  At one o’clock this morning, Manny had come in and shouted at us to sleep. Even though it had been a restless sleep, it had been enough for my brain to continue its search for the key to the code. I’d woken up at seventeen minutes to five, knowing how to decode the notes.

  Colin had joined me and we’d spent the last two hours translating Olivia’s thoughts. Francine had joined us and had taken over from me, typing as Colin dictated. The pages in the front of the book had been minimalistic notes on her worries about the painting in the last will and testament of a Nathan Donovan.

  It had been most frustrating to realise that we would need her to elaborate on these notes for them to make sense. There was a certain aimlessness in her notes that Colin had confirmed was not typical of the Olivia he’d known.

  Francine and Colin were still working on decoding the notes in the back of her notebook. Those seemed to all be her personal impressions of Budapest, the food, the people, even the weather. It had been a great disappointment that her encrypted notes had yielded very little useful information. It had been equally disheartening when Olivia’s boss had informed Andor that Olivia’s assistant had revealed that she’d taken her client Nathan Donovan’s file with her and had removed everything about this client from their servers.

  I’d grown bored and left for a walk. Vinnie had followed me. He was walking about fifteen metres behind me, giving me space to be alone, but had resolutely told me he refused to let me wander around the jungle alone. I’d been unable to let that go and wasted four minutes explaining the difference between a forest and a jungle to him.

  The narrow footpath veered to the right. This forest was mostly beech and oak trees. Earlier I had smiled at the fright I got when a deer rushed away when I’d interrupted it nibbling on small white flowers. The rest of the wildlife around me was all in the trees. The first few mornings in the villa, I’d woken up around five-thirty in the morning when the birds became active.

  Their chirping was so loud that even now, when they were no longer announcing the break of dawn, the many different sounds demanded my attention. Instead of it overwhelming my senses, I found it grounding me. It was a similar experience to when I focused on mentally writing Mozart’s compositions. My mind became so involved in trying to separate each individual bird and recognise their calls that there was no space for obsessing over the case, Olivia’s disappearance or Colin’s deep concern for her.

  I followed the path for a few more minutes. I wanted to give my brain the time to filter through all the information we’d learned in the last twenty-four hours. What had been interesting and perplexing was the mention of two deceased Hungarian nationals in Olivia’s notes. It was with growing frustration that I wished we could find her so I could ask her what these two people had to do with István, Nathan Donovan and Andor.

  Movement to my left caught my eye and I slowed down. If it were a wild boar mother and I was too close, she might feel the need to protect her offspring by attacking me. This was not an experience I desired. I stopped completely and looked deeper into the shadowed woods. Behind me, Vinnie’s light tread also slowed down. I held out my hand behind me, hoping that he’d see my gesture for him to stop. He did.

  A rustle drew my attention to a copse of trees about five metres from where I was standing. A rush of adrenaline increased my heart rate, my breathing turning erratic. I was just about to call out to Vinnie when a woman stepped from behind the trees.

  Olivia.

  She was wearing the same light green trousers and white blouse as two days before in Szentendre. But now the trousers were dirty around the legs and a long muddy smear ran across her left thigh. Her blouse was wrinkled and stained under her arms. Her eyes were
wide, her arms tucked in close to her body. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  I took a moment to study her. “Your nonverbal cues are telling me that the meaning behind your words is not related to physical harm only. What do you truly mean?”

  “I’m going against every instinct I have to trust you. My biggest fear is that you will betray my trust and leave my children without a mother.”

  “That makes more sense.” I frowned when I noticed the expectation on her face. It took me two seconds to realise what it implied. “You want me to reassure you.”

  Her surprised laughter was genuine, but short-lived. She crossed her arms in a full-body hug. “Yes. I know who you are. You’re Doctor Lenard. I read an article you wrote when I did a business psychology course a few years ago. I also know that more recently you’ve been working on criminal cases. Please tell me that you’ll live up to your reputation. Tell me that you’ll help me out of this hole that I dug for myself.”

  I looked at the ground at her feet and wished people wouldn’t use expressions that needed interpreting.

  “Jen-girl?” Vinnie’s soft question from behind me didn’t surprise me. It did, however, send a flash of immense fear across Olivia’s face. She took a step back, her entire body ready to run. She reminded me of the deer I’d startled earlier on.

  I lifted both hands in a gesture communicating my harmless intent. “Vinnie is my friend. He is Colin”—I realised she wouldn’t recognise this name—“he is Jackson’s best friend. If anything, he’ll protect you.”

  “Please tell me I can trust you.”

  “I can tell you that, but I don’t know what your expectations of this trust are. I can tell you that I—and my team—will do everything we can to find out the truth behind whatever is causing you such fear.” I looked at the forest around us. “It has to be an overwhelming fear to make you find out where we are staying and, if I’m correct, make you sleep here.”