Sight Shot (Imogene Museum Mystery #3) by Jones Jerusha

Author:Jones, Jerusha [Jones, Jerusha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerusha Jones
Published: 2013-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

I got Frankie settled in the gift shop then climbed the stairs to my office. The room had a chilly, neglected feel. I shivered and fired up my laptop.

Where to start? I was almost finished with the marionettes, but I wanted to save them to show Edna if she decided to take me up on my offer. I moved them to an empty shelf and cleared a space on my desk. I pulled over a legal notepad and decided to find out what the Internet had to say about Baruch Astruc.

From the brief information Rupert had shared, I was expecting tragedy. I found Astruc’s name — as Benoit — on a list of inmates at the Drancy internment/transit camp in August 1942. The population of the camp, located in a northeastern suburb of Paris, swelled after the mass arrest spree that July. He would have been packed into the high-rise apartment buildings with thousands of other Jews in unspeakably inhumane conditions.

Much of Paris’s cultural life continued as normal during occupation. The Germans encouraged artistic expression, as long as it was not subversive, to keep up the residents’ morale and goodwill toward their occupiers. But if an artist was Jewish? That was a different story.

I found Astruc’s name — this time as Baruch — on a list of Auschwitz arrivals in November 1942. He was not on the list of Auschwitz survivors under either first name. Astruc had been eliminated with assembly-line efficiency, leaving behind the proof of his short life in paintings. I wondered if there were any more paintings and if their current owners knew their history.

Rupert’s office is on the second floor, directly below mine. It had been a guest suite at one time, with a bedroom, sitting room and small bathroom. The water to the bathroom has been shut off to prevent leaks since all the fixtures are in their ancient original condition. Rupert’s towering stacks of papers, books and his private collections stuff all three rooms. I don’t know how he breathes in there.

I knocked on the open door and nudged a box of brass candlesticks out of the way with my toe. “Rupert?”

“Back here.”

I tiptoed along the cluttered path toward the smaller rear chamber that had been the bedroom. Rupert was sitting on a stack of small wood crates sorting through a pile of manila folders on his lap.

Rupert shook his head. “My filing system is out of date.” He pulled a half-gnawed cigar out of his shirt pocket and plugged the gummy end into his mouth. “Yes?”

I scooted a stack of papers over and sat cross-legged on the floor. I told him about Astruc’s demise. “Nineteen’s not really very many. What are the odds there are more paintings out there? And are you going to go after them? How important is he to you?”

Rupert thumped the manila folders on the floor and crossed his legs, settling more comfortably on the crates. He was wearing navy and orange striped socks. I scrunched my eyes closed.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.