Read Online Gauguin Connection, The by Estelle Ryan - Free Book Online

with you.”
    “Actually it did. I’m telling you too much, Jenny.” He rubbed his hand once over his face. “But I need to know that you are taking me seriously.”
    “Seriously about what?” I had so many questions. “Why are you here? How did you get in? My apartment is supposed to be secure.”
    “It really wasn’t that difficult. Top-floor apartments are always easy to breach.”
    “Are you telling me that you do this frequently?”
    Shock registered on his face. “I’m definitely telling you too much.”
    “Just tell me how you got into my apartment.” I had to know. Or else I wouldn’t be able to move on.
    “Through the ceiling in the guest bathroom. It was a tight fit, but easy enough. I could also have come through the window if it wasn’t full daylight.”
    “Or you could’ve knocked on my front door.”
    “Would you have opened it?” He smiled when I looked at him askance. “Thought so. Jenny, why did you do this search into the poets?”
    “You know that I work for an insurance company, so surely you had to come to some conclusion.”
    He had just successfully managed to shift my attention from my unanswered question. Unknown to him, I had watched hundreds of interviews and had learned valuable lessons. Like when a fraud suspect started asking his own questions, much could be gleaned from those questions. For now I would allow him to take the lead. It might prove to be very informative.
    “Of course I have a hypothesis, but I would rather hear from you why these poets interested you.”
    I didn’t want to tell him anything that wasn’t public knowledge. I chose my words with care. “The stolen art. That was what drew my attention. I’m working on this case involving an artwork that was stolen during the Second World War and then retrieved. You were the one who identified it. One thing led to another until I found too many names of seventeenth-century poets discovering stolen artwork. I don’t believe in coincidence so I came to the conclusion that it could be the same man.”
    “Which artwork?”
    “Pardon?” I knew what he was asking, but needed time to consider my answer. Not only did he appear to be an accomplished burglar, he also had a way of manipulating the conversation that showed a higher intellect. That intrigued me.
    “Which artwork is part of the case that you are looking into?”
    “Um… I can’t tell you that, Miste—”
    “Colin.”
    “Colin.” I took a deep breath. The topic needed to be changed if I was to continue keeping Manny’s confidence. “Who do you work for?”
    “Who says I’m working?”
    I lifted one eyebrow and glared at him. “You’re the one who quoted my IQ. Don’t underestimate me.”
    “I would never make that mistake. No one has ever gotten me to talk so much about myself.”
    “Not that you’ve said much.” Something clicked into place. “Your name. You don’t tell people your real name.”
    “I’m not admitting that it’s my real name.”
    “Your face tells me it is.” It was interesting that someone who for obvious reasons would not trust anyone chose to trust me. “Tell me, why do you steal these pieces back?”
    “I’ve never admitted to stealing anything.”
    “True. But we both know that you’re the one stealing back these art pieces, some of which were thought lost forever.”
    “Were they?” He held up his hands when I frowned. His avoidance was becoming annoying. “Okay, okay. So those pieces are valuable, but I’m not here to talk about that.”
    “Then tell me why you are here.” Even though I was desperately curious about his motives behind re-appropriating those artworks, this was a much more pressing issue.
    “Why are you looking into Gauguin’s Still Life, The White Bowl?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Is that the piece of artwork the police had found on the dead girl?”
    “I can’t tell you that,” I repeated, but this time my voice sounded breathless. How was it possible that he