The Last Judgement

She thought hard. ‘There was no file that we saw. No letters either. I’ll get them to check again to make sure.’ Somehow she thought it wasn’t going to turn up.

‘I’m sorry,’ she went on. ‘I interrupted. Please continue.’

‘I don’t have much else to say,’ she said. ‘My contacts with Arthur were few and far between. I think I’ve told you all I can. Does any of it help?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. In fact, almost certainly. Although I think you’ve given us as many new problems as you’ve solved.’

‘Why is that?’

‘It may be — and this is only a guess, which may be wrong — that this is where the picture comes in. You said he became convinced that this reference to the last judgement was a clue.’

‘That’s right.’

‘OK. This picture was part of a series of paintings. Of four paintings on legal themes. Of judgements, in fact. This was the last one to be painted.’

‘Oh.’

‘So it may well be that your stepbrother believed that the painting contained what he was looking for. Only—’

‘Yes?’

‘Only it didn’t. Either he was wrong and you are right about him constructing fantasies or, just perhaps, somebody had already found whatever it was. Either way, Jona — the dealer who delivered it said that Mr Muller was very excited when the picture first arrived, then became disappointed and decided he didn’t want it. That only makes sense if he was after not the picture itself, but something in or on the picture. Which wasn’t there.

‘Then he was murdered, and we have not noticed this file among his possessions. There is evidently something about this painting we’re missing.’

She was musing again, and beginning to fantasize herself now, the sleepiness returning and taking her mind off formal matters. With a bit of an effort, she concentrated on the interview. She would be grateful, she said, if Mrs Mackenzie could come back in the afternoon to read over the statement and sign it. Muller’s company was seeing to all the practical matters of dealing with his effects and arranging the funeral. Was there anything she needed?

Mrs Mackenzie said there wasn’t, and thanked her. Flavia escorted her to the door, then went up to discuss matters with Bottando.

‘So what is this, a treasure hunt?’ Bottando said. ‘Is that it?’

‘Just an idea,’ she said. ‘It does fit.’

‘If your interpretation of the reference to the Last Judgement is correct, and if Muller thought the same. Which may be doubted. On the other hand, he did want that picture.’

Bottando thought a moment. ‘Can I see Mr Argyll’s statement?’ he continued. ‘Do you have it on you?’

Flavia rummaged in her file and handed it over, then sat while Bottando read. ‘It says here that when he delivered the painting, he unwrapped it, then went into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee. Beforehand, Muller was excited. When Argyll came back Muller said he didn’t want it.’

‘So he did.’

‘So we have three possibilities, don’t we? One that whatever he was after was not there; he discovered this, realized he’d been wrong and got rid of the thing. The second is that he was right, and removed whatever it was while Mr Argyll was in the kitchen.’

‘But in that case,’ Flavia said reasonably, ‘he wouldn’t have seemed so downcast. Unless he was a good actor.’

‘And the final possibility, of course, is that this whole story is merest moonshine and there is a better, simpler and more correct explanation.’

‘Perhaps he missed something,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we did as well. I think we should have another look at it.’

‘A bit late for that. Your friend Argyll picked it up this morning and took it back to Paris.’

‘Damnation. I forgot about that. I was so tired I didn’t think. He’s going to give it to Janet, is he?’

Bottando nodded. ‘I assume so. At least, I do very much hope he’s not going to stick his nose in where it isn’t needed.’

‘Do you think I ought to take another look at this thing? Go on to Paris after Basle? You could ask Janet to look up some stuff for me to pick up when I get there.’

‘Such as?’

‘Anything on this man Hartung, in essence. It would also be nice to know where this picture came from. We need more background on Ellman as well. Perhaps you could ask the Swiss...?’

Bottando sighed. ‘Oh, very well. Is there anything else?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really. Except that you could forward a copy of the interview to Fabriano when it’s been typed out. I want to go home, shower and pack a bag. There’s a flight at four to Basle, and I don’t want to miss it.’

‘Whatever you say, my dear. Oh, and by the way...’

‘Hmm?’

‘Don’t get too carefree. Muller died in a very nasty fashion, Ellman in a neat one. I don’t want you — or even Mr Argyll — to suffer either fate. Watch yourself. I intend to say the same thing to him when he gets back.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said reassuringly. ‘This is perfectly safe.’

8