Murder at the Debutante Ball by C.J. Archer

Author:C.J. Archer [Archer, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.J. Archer

Chapter 12

“It’s not often someone comes to the gallery carrying a painting by a well-known artist,” Lady Treloar said. “In this case, it was a portrait of a young woman reading a book by the Dutch painter Johan de Klerk. I probably should have had my suspicions at that point, but I didn’t. It wasn’t until I studied the painting more closely that I began to wonder. You see, de Klerk is an excellent portrait painter, but this painting wasn’t up to his standard. The face was good, as was the dress, but the hands were not. They were out of proportion and quite masculine.”

Harry’s gaze connected with mine.

“Is that detail important?” Lady Treloar asked.

“Who brought the painting in?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. He didn’t give his name. I’m sorry I didn’t find out, but I was so taken aback, I didn’t think clearly. I let him leave.”

“Did you indicate you knew it was a forgery?”

She shook her head. “I was careful not to.”

“Can you describe him?”

The man was in his twenties, of medium height and build, with brown hair, a thick beard and whiskers. “Now that I think about it, I suspect the facial hair wasn’t real.”

“Do you know anyone who may now be missing that painting—the real one?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s not a piece I’m familiar with. The original must belong to someone whose home I’ve never been in.”

“He was rather daring to try to sell the copy to you, considering you might have known where the original hung.”

“Unless he was sure she didn’t,” Harry added.

“Or he was just stupid,” Lady Treloar said. “People often are, I find. When I was in Biarritz, a German duke tried to convince me he owned an unsigned Vermeer. When I pointed out that it looked nothing like a Vermeer, he told me I don’t know fine art.” The corner of her mouth kicked up in a sardonic smile.

I hardly heard her little story. I was thinking about something she’d said earlier. “You claim the painting is done by the same artist who did some of the Bunburys’ copies.”

“I’m almost certain, yes.”

“How do you know? They were landscapes, weren’t they? So it couldn’t have been the hands.”

“It’s in the way the paint is applied, its thickness, the strokes, that sort of thing. Besides, a portrait still has scenery in it. The painting the fellow brought in had all the same qualities that I noticed in the Bunburys’ art. I’m sure they’re by the same artist.” She looked from me to Harry and back again. “Does that help explain it?”

I nodded. “Do you know who the forger might be?”

“No. I don’t know anyone who paints in that style and has difficulty with hands.” She rose. “I do hope it has been some help and that if you find the artist, you’ll get some of the answers you seek.”

The paintings may have been done by Reggie Smith, but the thefts weren’t. He had an alibi for the Quorne heist and was in prison yesterday.

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