13

Moonlight drifted through the bedroom window, carrying the music and laughter of a free people. Gabi moved around the twin-sized mattress, attempting to fit the bottom sheet around the second corner. The sheet smelled of soap and sunshine. Madame Beaumont insisted on helping.

“Please, Madame Beaumont. I can make my own bed.”

“I will hear nothing of the sort,” the matronly woman said. “You are our guest, as is Colette.”

Colette made eye contact with Gabi. “You better listen to her. She gets her way around here.”

“Not tonight,” Gabi said lightly as she quickly finished tucking in the last corner. She lay the duvet on the bed and smoothed the covering.

With a soft giggle, Colette leaned over to level her duvet. As she did, the locket slipped from beneath her blouse, catching Madame Beaumont’s eye. “My, what a beautiful locket. Is that new?”

“Yes, Bernard gave it to me this evening. Do you recognize it?”

Madame Beaumont straightened, stepping closer. “Let me have a look, dear.”

“Bernard said it belonged to your mom.”

“Really?” She took a closer look. “I don’t recognize it, or at least, I never saw Mother wear it. But it’s beautiful all the same.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Maybe I misunderstood,” Colette said.

“Perhaps so.” Madame Beaumont fluffed Colette’s pillow and set it on the bed. “I hope you can sleep with all the noise. I don’t think the celebration will be ending soon.”

Gabi noticed Colette’s perplexed expression as she tucked the locket beneath her blouse. Then she looked toward the hoopla lifting up from the Beaumont courtyard. “I think you’re right. I hope they’re not expecting you to serve breakfast.”

Madame Beaumont smiled. “Well, if they are, they’re going to be disappointed. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Gabi traipsed into the bathroom for a long overdue bath. A half hour later, she emerged and placed her clothes on the back of a chair. There was a soft thud as the skirt she’d been wearing earlier that day bounced against the wooden base. Reaching down to investigate, Gabi felt the firm rectangular shape and then remembered the small black book in the pocket. It seemed like days had passed since she had opened the hidden compartment in the base of the small safe.

With the slim black leather book in hand, she slipped under the sheets, grateful for the bed and the bath. “That was awfully nice of Bernard’s aunt to offer Eric and me a place to stay. I can’t remember when a hot bath felt better. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to another night in the car, but after such a long day, I could sleep standing up.”

“We’ll all sleep well tonight. That’s for sure,” Colette said.

Gabi peeled open the soft leather cover and found three columns of neatly printed accounting. A line item followed by two large numbers. Quickly paging through, she found about twenty-five pages of detailed entries. The German script seemed to be titles and artist’s names . . . Still Life with Sleeping Woman by Matisse and Reclining Nude with Cupid by Jan Van Neck . . . followed by several columns of numbers, with the first always lower than the second. She did some quick mental calculations and noted they were all about 30 to 40 percent higher.

“So, you work for the Red Cross?” Colette broke in.

Gabi hesitated. “Uh, yes, I enjoy helping others.” She propped herself up on a pillow, hoping she sounded convincing enough to avoid more questions.

“What do you have there?” Colette inquired. “Do you keep a journal?”

Gabi looked up with a blank expression. She realized that Colette was now staring at her.

“Oh, this?” Gabi raised the small book. “Actually, I forgot I’d put it in my pocket this morning.”

“So what’s in it?”

“I’m not sure. Seems like a listing of paintings.”

Colette crossed the room and sat on the side of Gabi’s bed. She looked over her shoulder, skimming the German text. After a few seconds, she caught her breath in surprise. “Where did you find this?”

Gabi paused. “It’s a long story, but basically, it was in the bottom of a safe . . . there was a hidden compartment.”

“The one downstairs in the corner of the dining room?”

“Yes, the one Bernard said he found at a German stronghold.” Gabi studied the woman’s face. “You seem to recognize these titles. What are they?”

“I should know. They are the names of paintings, many of which I appraised prior to their sale.”

“Their sale? To whom?” Gabi pressed.

Colette looked up and shook her head. “A despicable German colonel. He worked for Reichsmarschall Göring, and his job was to purchase art for his collections.”

“So this booklet contains a list of all the paintings, along with sale prices?”

Colette scanned a page again. “Looks like there are two columns here . . . one for the sale’s price and the other for the invoice. The last column shows the difference.”

“Which means . . .”

“Someone was padding the price, making a handsome profit . . . at Göring’s expense.”

“Interesting.”

They paged through the hundreds of cataloged entries. At the bottom of each page, total amounts for each column were added up.

“If my suspicions are correct,” Colette surmised, “I’ll bet Colonel Heller has been defrauding Göring for years and has amassed a small fortune.”

“Appears that way. So you know this colonel?”

Colette sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. He has made my life very difficult . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Gabi sensed by Colette’s tone that she had struck a nerve. The woman was troubled by something deeper. Gabi didn’t know her well enough to prod for more information, so she let it go, knowing full well that Colette wasn’t telling her everything.

There was also that embarrassing moment with the gold locket. Why would Bernard tell her it was a family heirloom when the pendant clearly wasn’t?

Gabi yawned but was still wide awake. There was more to Colette—and to Bernard—than what she saw at face value.

Her mind was racing. Had she made a mistake . . . sharing the information in this book with a woman she barely knew?