“The man in gray?” Gilles asked.
I explained that I thought there was a man watching us, and how Donna thought I was nuts.
“Aha,” he exclaimed in a whisper. “Interpol.”
The two of us stared at him. “Interpol?” Donna repeated.
“Yes. Not to worry. Does this man have gray hair, ordinary features, medium height and weight?”
Donna said he did, which only describes about a half billion people in the world.
Gilles got to his feet. “Pardon, allow me a few moments.”
Donna and I stood up too, then watched him slowly amble toward the doors that led him inside.
“What’s going on?” she asked as I fell back into my chair with a dull thud. She took her seat beside me.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did he tell you what you needed to know?”
“Some of it. I’m still having a hard time putting it all together.”
“You mean putting together what he told you and what Benny told you?”
I felt a slight shiver run up from the base of my spine.
“Benny?”
“Wasn’t that your father’s friend in Las Vegas?”
What she said seemed fine, it was the way she said it that sounded too familiar, too knowing.
“Yes.” I looked at her, and her sparkling blue eyes danced away from my gaze.
“God, this is just awful,” she said.
I found myself staring across the courtyard at an elderly couple enjoying their candlelight dinner. They appeared to be French, and I guessed they were talking about their children, or maybe their grandchildren. Perhaps they were just discussing what they were going to do tomorrow. They looked like they fit together. When I turned to Donna again, she was watching me, her eyes rimmed with a touch of red.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked her.
She hesitated, then said, “Everything has gotten so complicated.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, then spotted Gilles coming through the courtyard door. “We should talk about this later”
“We will. I promise,” she whispered.
As Monsieur de la Houssay made his way back across the stone terrace, I noticed how gingerly he walked. He seemed older than when he was sitting at the table animated by the obvious pleasure he took in sharing his stories with us. Donna and I watched in silence as he eased himself into his chair.
“Well my young friend, I can assure you that you are not crazy. The man who has been watching you is an old friend of mine, although some may find that hard to comprehend. His name is Frederique Durand, and he would very much enjoy meeting with us. I invited him to join us for dessert, if you have no objection.”
I leaned against the back of the wrought iron chair. “Who is he?”
“Inspector Durand is an officer of the law, and has more than a passing interest in our, shall we say, our situation.” Then, turning to Donna, he said, “Some more Beychevelle, my dear? This second bottle has breathed enough, please have another glass with us.”
I found myself wondering about the oil painting of a Provençale landscape Blackie brought back from France. I knew enough to know it was no Monet, but it was a painting, the only painting he had ever given me.
As for a Monet, if Gilles was correct and I had the thing, I never noticed.
Gilles had described the Monet oil in great detail, the small boats, blue sea, orange sun and the shimmering reflections on the water. I’d seen Monets like that, but only in museums. Gilles also said that the painting was pretty fair in size, about a meter across and two thirds of that in height.
Not something I would miss if I had ever seen it.
While I was running through the possible whereabouts of the Monet, I had some random thoughts about Donna. There’s a screen in my brain that displays headlines twenty-four hours a day, like the building in Times Square, and believe me, while the rest of my tortured mind was trying to work everything out, my cousin Frank’s name was brightly flashing there.
And what about Gilles? He wanted to introduce me to Interpol. What was I missing?
What if I was the target of an elaborate plot to recover the painting, or worse, to steal the painting back from those who had stolen it in the first place? What if there was no painting, that this was all about something else entirely?
My stomach began to ache.
Gilles read the look on my face. “I know,” he said warmly, “this is all a great deal to absorb.”
“I’d say so.”
“Please, before we meet with Durand, ask me anything you wish.”
I shifted in my chair, then did it again, as if it had become impossible for me to find a comfortable position. Which it had. “Forgive me, Monsieur de la Houssay, but we’ve never met before tonight. I never even knew you existed until a few days ago. I came to France to ask you some questions and, frankly, I’m more confused now than when I boarded the plane.”
He waited.
“I showed you my father’s letter. You’ve shared some wonderful memories about the end of the war. But—and please try and understand, I don’t mean to be insulting—but I don’t have any way of knowing if you’re really who you say you are.”
I expected him to start giving me a list of things that might prove who he was, evidence of his background, all of that. Instead, he remained silent so I could continue.
“Now you want me to meet someone from Interpol. What if you’re from Interpol? What if this is all some elaborate setup?” I realized how ridiculous I sounded and turned to Donna, who appeared even more bewildered than I was. Worse than that, I still wondered who she was.
For an instant I thought about the grumpy driver who brought us from Antibes to the restaurant. If I could have located him right then, I might have happily jumped in the back of his sedan, returned to the hotel, grabbed my passport and gone home. I remembered the ad campaign I needed to write for that car dealership in Long Island, and how Harry was going to be all over me when I came back without ever having opened the file. It occurred to me I might use a Monet sunset with a car superimposed in the foreground. The copy would read, “For that continental feeling with the assurance of American quality,” or something like that.
Gilles interrupted my silent but growing sense of anxiety. “May I say something?” he asked politely.
“Please. Please do.”
“I think you would agree that I have asked you for nothing. Not one thing. You, of course, have asked questions of me, and I have done my best to respond.”
I nodded dumbly.
“Then let me explain something more.” He glanced at Donna. At this point she was not about to go anywhere, and I was not about to ask her to. “This situation has made me something of a local celebrity over the years. The legend we discussed is old, but still very much alive. At first, I was thought a scoundrel, but the reputation of a scoundrel ages well, and in the end has a certain charm. Other than this one episode I have lived an exemplary life. I have been a moderate success in business. I held public office, as an elected official in Roquebrune. Your father found that very amusing.” He lit another cigarette and exhaled a small cloud of smoke. “I have enjoyed this little cat and mouse game over these many years, always knowing I would never have the pleasure of owning the item myself.” He was obviously taking care not to mention the painting in front of Donna. “Your father was the dreamer who believed it would bring us riches. I understood the truth. Once we were suspected, I could never be involved again. It was the same advice I gave to your father over the years.” He paused, his bright, hazel colored eyes looking directly into mine. “That is why Benny advised you to forget this entire affair. Which you have not mentioned to me.”
That got my attention, since I had never told him what Benny said. As I already said, I also never told him about my discussion with Selma a couple of days ago.
“Ah yes, you failed to mention what Benny advised you, but I know because he shared that when he called me with the news that you would be coming.”
I looked at Donna, whose was fixed on Gilles. Turning back to him, I said, “I’m sorry, I feel like a jackass. Benny gave me your name and I—”
He responded with another tolerant smile. “Your upset and confusion are understandable.” He took a moment before going on. “I have mentioned that in some ways I have outlived my years. Unfortunately, the doctors now agree. So I am happy, if my time is short, to have this chance to meet you.” He carefully tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray. “And understand, I take no offense at your questions. If anything, I am fascinated to have this opportunity to see your father again, in you.”
I began to say something, but Gilles held up his hand.
“My condition affords a certain freedom,” he said, “since there is nothing left for me to fear. My only concern is that my friend’s son does not suffer for the mistake of our youth.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. About your health, I mean.”
He offered a melancholy tilt of his head in response. “Sorrow should be reserved for the death of the young, eh?” His heavily accented English made his sadness in speaking these words all the more poignant. “I lost many friends in the war. They never had the chance to live beyond their youth, to enjoy the full life I have had. Please, do not waste your pity on me.”
I managed a wan smile. “I’ll try to remember that philosophy.”
He took another long and grateful pull at his cigarette. “Now you must decide if you really want to find it, yes?”
“And do what with it? Turn it over to the authorities?”
“Ah, no.” He smiled. “I could never suggest such a thing. It would not be a fitting end to all these years of intrigue. No, if you find it, it is yours to do with as you please.”
Donna was looking at me. She didn’t speak, she just nodded slightly.
“Sorry if I’m confused about this, but why do you feel we should meet this Interpol inspector?”
“To assure him that you are here for one reason only, which is to visit an old friend of your father. We can say, if it is necessary, that you learned of my illness and decided to come and have dinner with me during your brief vacation in France.”
“And my father’s letter?”
The smile returned to his thin lips. “What letter?”