Read Online The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) by Estelle Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Estelle Ryan
Ads: Link
staircase. “Let’s go look where the thief entered and took Monsieur Bonfils’ paintings.”
The foot of the staircase was almost in the centre of the room, leading up to the first floor. A wide balcony ran along three sides, with views onto the floor below. From the balcony, doors led into separate rooms, each holding different parts of the exhibitions. The second and third floors were accessed by a different staircase.
“Have you been here before, Doc?”
“I was here seven months ago.” I reached the top of the staircase and looked around. “Everything looks the same so far.”
“Tell me if you see something out of place.” Manny waved over a police officer who had come out of one of the rooms. “Where is the scene of the crime?”
“Upstairs, sir.” The officer pointed to the ceiling. “It is the room closest to the street.”
“Thanks.” Manny and I walked to the beautiful staircase. It was grandiose and appealed to my sense of the aesthetic. The stairs were covered in thick red carpeting, the edges showing slight wear from the many people who had gone to the next floor. We reached the next level and it was easy to see where the crime scene was. People were milling around, some dressed in white disposable coveralls, everyone wearing gloves.
After establishing that the crime scene investigators had released the scene, we entered the room to the right of the landing. Close to the windows, three men were in a deep discussion, but stopped the moment they saw us.
“Do you have permission to be here? Who are you?” The largest of the men walked towards us, his chest puffed out, his arms away from his body and his hands fisted.
“Agent Manfred Millard and this is my associate Doctor Genevieve Lenard. We are here to assist in this case.” Even though Manny’s shoulders were still hunched over, the masseter muscles in his jaw tensed and he huffed softly.
“Oh, thank God.” The man turned back to his colleagues. “Let’s get out of here, guys.”
Manny lifted one hand to stop them. “We need to know what you know before you hand over the scene.”
“Of course. We’re just really keen to get back to our weekend.” The large man closed his eyes for a second. He looked tired. “I have nineteen open cases on my desk at the moment and am very happy to hand this one over to someone else.”
“Okay, so fill me in.” The authority in Manny’s tone left no freedom for arguments.
“It seems like he came through the back door, the one from the alley.”
One of the other men walked closer, his body language less fatigued. “He picked the lock so well that only tiny scratches are visible. We don’t know yet how he managed to disable the alarm system, but the system shows he did it in twenty-three seconds. We’re thinking he is a professional.”
“Is there any security video footage?” This was my forte and I was curious to see if everyone was correct in their assumptions that the thief was a man. Statistically, the probability was high.
“We’re waiting for the curator to copy it now. We haven’t looked at it yet.”
“So you also don’t know the route he took through the museum.” I was surprised at their confused expressions and had to remind myself that not everyone had the thinking patterns I did. “If he—and we are all working on a gross assumption that it is a man—came directly to this room, took the paintings and left, it would indicate that he knew what he wanted to steal and where it was. If I could look at the footage, I would be able to tell whether he was conflicted about his loot, whether he wanted to take more, but couldn’t. I really need to see that footage.”
“Ah, you’re that Doctor Lenard,” the large man said, smiling. “The one who can tell your future by just looking at your wrinkles.”
“That’s absurd. No one can predict the future, much less by analysing—”
“Doc, he’s joking.” This was one of the select few times the zygomaticus
The foot of the staircase was almost in the centre of the room, leading up to the first floor. A wide balcony ran along three sides, with views onto the floor below. From the balcony, doors led into separate rooms, each holding different parts of the exhibitions. The second and third floors were accessed by a different staircase.
“Have you been here before, Doc?”
“I was here seven months ago.” I reached the top of the staircase and looked around. “Everything looks the same so far.”
“Tell me if you see something out of place.” Manny waved over a police officer who had come out of one of the rooms. “Where is the scene of the crime?”
“Upstairs, sir.” The officer pointed to the ceiling. “It is the room closest to the street.”
“Thanks.” Manny and I walked to the beautiful staircase. It was grandiose and appealed to my sense of the aesthetic. The stairs were covered in thick red carpeting, the edges showing slight wear from the many people who had gone to the next floor. We reached the next level and it was easy to see where the crime scene was. People were milling around, some dressed in white disposable coveralls, everyone wearing gloves.
After establishing that the crime scene investigators had released the scene, we entered the room to the right of the landing. Close to the windows, three men were in a deep discussion, but stopped the moment they saw us.
“Do you have permission to be here? Who are you?” The largest of the men walked towards us, his chest puffed out, his arms away from his body and his hands fisted.
“Agent Manfred Millard and this is my associate Doctor Genevieve Lenard. We are here to assist in this case.” Even though Manny’s shoulders were still hunched over, the masseter muscles in his jaw tensed and he huffed softly.
“Oh, thank God.” The man turned back to his colleagues. “Let’s get out of here, guys.”
Manny lifted one hand to stop them. “We need to know what you know before you hand over the scene.”
“Of course. We’re just really keen to get back to our weekend.” The large man closed his eyes for a second. He looked tired. “I have nineteen open cases on my desk at the moment and am very happy to hand this one over to someone else.”
“Okay, so fill me in.” The authority in Manny’s tone left no freedom for arguments.
“It seems like he came through the back door, the one from the alley.”
One of the other men walked closer, his body language less fatigued. “He picked the lock so well that only tiny scratches are visible. We don’t know yet how he managed to disable the alarm system, but the system shows he did it in twenty-three seconds. We’re thinking he is a professional.”
“Is there any security video footage?” This was my forte and I was curious to see if everyone was correct in their assumptions that the thief was a man. Statistically, the probability was high.
“We’re waiting for the curator to copy it now. We haven’t looked at it yet.”
“So you also don’t know the route he took through the museum.” I was surprised at their confused expressions and had to remind myself that not everyone had the thinking patterns I did. “If he—and we are all working on a gross assumption that it is a man—came directly to this room, took the paintings and left, it would indicate that he knew what he wanted to steal and where it was. If I could look at the footage, I would be able to tell whether he was conflicted about his loot, whether he wanted to take more, but couldn’t. I really need to see that footage.”
“Ah, you’re that Doctor Lenard,” the large man said, smiling. “The one who can tell your future by just looking at your wrinkles.”
“That’s absurd. No one can predict the future, much less by analysing—”
“Doc, he’s joking.” This was one of the select few times the zygomaticus
Similar Books
