Aaron Elkins - Old Scores

Yes, I supposed I was. Rene Vachey had quickly grown on me. The accusations of Julien Mann had been unsettling, but they hadn't changed the way I'd reacted to the man as a person. I'd genuinely liked Vachey; he'd been a one-of-a-kind. I was sorry he was dead, and I wanted to know who had killed him. What was so strange about that? It hadn't escaped me, either, that in some way-through the blue scrapbook, perhaps, or the gift of the painting-I might be indirectly involved.

I looked over at Lefevre, who watched the exchange between Christian and Sully, observant but noncommittal.

Sully smiled smugly at Christian and went on. "In it he designated a number of bequests to legatees not in this room. The largest such bequest is for equal shares of some two hundred fifty thousand francs for his deceased wife's grandniece Astrid, residing in Switzerland, and his deceased sister's son, Armand, who lives, I believe, in Lille."

He went on in this vein for a while. There were bequests to Vachey's barber, to a bird sanctuary, to various charities. Sounds of fidgeting increased. I was getting a little restless myself.

He moved the top sheet aside. "Now, let us come to those beneficiaries, or their representatives, who are present this morning."

That took care of the fidgeting.

"First, the collected art works. The bulk of Rene Vachey's personal collection, some thirty-four paintings in oil and tempera, are willed to the Louvre. These are the same paintings now on display in the gallery above us, and which Monsieur Vachey announced as an intended donation last night." He looked up at the man on the end, the one I didn't know. "Do you have any questions, Monsieur Masseline?"

Ah. Jacques Masseline, chief curator of paintings at the Louvre. Silently, he shook his head.

"Congratulations," Christian said. "I'm very happy to see my father's collection go to the nation."

I had my doubts about how delighted he was, but I got the impression that at least he wasn't surprised-which suggested that it had been in the earlier version of Vachey's will too.

Sully fingered a smaller piece of paper that lay among the others. Torn from a spiral-bound pad, it had a few scrawled lines written diagonally across it. For a moment he looked indecisive, then gathered himself together and spoke.

"There is, however, something which I feel must be mentioned here. Last night, quite late, Rene-Monsieur Vachey- took me aside. He said to me that he had been reminded of an obligation to an old friend, one he should never have forgotten, and he wished to meet it, though it would mean reneging on a more recent one. I was to act on it when I returned to Paris.

Inasmuch as I am not as conversant as I might be with all his paintings, he wrote down the following."

He lifted the torn sheet, cleared his throat, and read aloud: " 'Duchamp's Jeune fille qui chante -remove from Louvre bequest, present to Gisele.' " He put the slip down. "He was referring, of course, to Madame Gremonde."

Everyone looked at her. She stared blankly back, still wringing her hands. I wondered if she knew where she was.

After a second, Christian spoke through a slack and unconvincing smile. "I don't think I'm hearing right. Are you actually saying we're supposed to treat that scrap of paper as a legal document? I don't mean to spoil the fun here, but can I call to your attention the fact that we're talking about a major work of art, not some sentimental little piece of bric-a-brac? Look, my father had about six drinks too many last night-"

"Pardon me, monsieur, but I don't see that it's your affair," Sully shot back at him. "However, I agree that this paper is not legally binding: It is unsigned and unwitnessed." He looked at Masseline. "But I can assure you, monsieur, and would be happy to so attest, that it was his intent that Madame Gremonde have the painting."

"Madame Gremonde?" Gisele repeated dully.

"And the Louvre will honor that intent," Masseline said straightforwardly. From his chair he gave her a gallant half-bow. "With great pleasure, madame."

"I… the Duchamp?" Gisele whispered, and when Sully said, "Yes, madame, the Duchamp," her eyes overflowed. Pepin, next to her, commendably extended his clean, folded handkerchief. When she took it and blew her nose into it, he winced.

I settled back in my chair with what is usually referred to as a warm glow, the last thing I'd expected to feel that morning. Well, good for you, Rene, I thought.

And good for you too, Masseline. And Sully. My feelings toward Christian were less benevolent, but I could understand his reaction. Not many children are generously inclined toward their fathers' paramours.

"Now then," Sully said crisply, getting us back on track. "My client has left the Galerie Vachey, including its inventory, receivables, and furnishings to Clotilde Guyot, in appreciation-"

Beside me, Madame Guyot put her balled handkerchief to her mouth. "No, are you serious? I had no idea-why, I can hardly believe-never once did he cause me to think…"

"You are surprised?" Inspector Lefevre asked; rather unnecessarily, it seemed to me.

"Why, yes, I'm… I knew nothing of a new will. I had always understood that the gallery would go to…" She blushed and faltered. "That is to say, it was understood from the beginning that Monsieur Vachey had intended the gallery to go to…"

Christian bailed her out, lifting his arms and bowing his head in a mocking imitation of someone accepting applause. There was about Vachey's son an unappetizing slickness, the glib smoothness of a Las Vegas lounge performer working the early-bird, senior-citizen show.

Sully picked up the thread again. "In addition, Monsieur Vachey has granted you the continuing use of the gallery's existing premises in this building for a period of up to one year. He also expressed in his will the hope that you would continue to employ Monsieur Marius Pepin in his current capacity. This is not to be construed as legally binding, but only as-"

"Employ Marius?" She laughed. "But of course I will. It's impossible to imagine the Galerie Vachey without dear Marius-" She seemed to realize that she was sounding a bit bubbly for the occasion, and toned things down. "I shall be happy to continue the association of the Galerie Vachey with Monsieur Pepin," she said gravely, but still glowing, "assuming this is agreeable to him."

"I would be honored to continue, madame," Pepin responded primly.

Inspector Lefevre addressed him. "You were Monsieur Vachey's secretary?"

"His secretary, yes. I was also responsible for-for the security of the collections."

A brief, nasty bark of laughter came from Froger. I looked at him, surprised.

So did Lefevre. "Something amuses you, monsieur?"

Froger shook his head and waved him off. Lefevre didn't press it, but I could see him make a mental note. He would press it in his own time, I thought. Pepin, looking resentful, kept his eyes on the floor.

"Let us continue," Sully said. "Except for the bequests mentioned earlier, the residue of Monsieur Vachey's estate is willed to his son, Christian. This includes the residences in Dijon and Paris, and personally owned works of art not otherwise designated."

So Christian was going to do all right, after all, if not quite as well as he'd hoped. I looked over at him. He was about as expressive as a slug.

Sully sat back. "And those are the provisions of the will insofar as they are pertinent to those present." He gathered up the papers and put them in an attache case.

"Why was I summoned here?" Froger demanded curtly. He had been looking more and more impatient as the session had gone on, sighing and huffing and twisting in his chair. I hadn't been sighing or huffing, but I was starting to wonder the same thing.

"I'm coming to it," Sully said, ruffled again. From his case he had gotten another set of papers, typed and legal-looking. "In the matter of the paintings by Fernand Leger and Rembrandt van Rijn, we are presented with a somewhat different situation. These are not mentioned in the will, but are the subjects of identical conditional donations, the first to the Musee Barillot and the second to the Art Museum of Seattle. In-"