Fran?ois flinched, all signs of deception gone. He looked at Phillip with raw emotion etched on his face. Longing, shame, regret and sadness warred for dominance. But it was fear that ruled his facial muscles.
I thought back to all the materials I’d studied, all the people I’d seen interviewed. Seldom had I seen someone as expressive as Fran?ois was right now. What added to my surprise was how well he had disguised his nonverbal cues when we’d spoken to him in the Robertsau forest. His history with Phillip must’ve left him vulnerable on a level much deeper than even Phillip suspected. His reaction had been pure, confirming Phillip’s statement.
“Oh, wait.” Phillip’s tone was as if he was having a relaxed conversation. “Are you working with or working for... common criminals? Aha. For.”
Fran?ois’ increased blinking had been telling when Phillip had paused. This was most fascinating to observe.
“You know, Fran?ois, for all your sins, I can’t quite imagine that you tortured and killed those young people. Hmm. I see. You didn’t.” Phillip narrowed his eyes. “Do I see guilt though? I do. So you were the one who dumped their lifeless bodies in the forest. Ah. There’s that guilt. Hmm. So you really stooped low. Lower than I thought possible. You’re now cleaning up after brutal murderers.”
Fran?ois’ brow lowered—not in anger, but in anguish. Colour crept up his neck and he shifted in his chair.
“Don’t say anything.” The lawyer put his hand on the table. “We should leave.”
Fran?ois shook his head like Francine did when she flicked her hair over her shoulder. “No, Adam. We should stay. I like hearing these fairy tales.”
I frowned. Not because of Fran?ois’ obvious lie, but because of what I thought I’d seen. He looked at Phillip and there it was again. He was hoping to be caught out and arrested. The stark fear that flashed over his face had to be his motivation.
Phillip’s calm demeanour didn’t waver. “So? Are you running a major drug distribution point from Rotterdam? Aha. Yes. And whatever happened to your passion for art? That was the one thing that was always honest about you.”
“It’s still the only thing I care about.” Fran?ois shook off the lawyer’s restraining hand on his shoulder. Phillip had touched a very deep and important point in Fran?ois’ life. He had been completely truthful when he’d spoken.
“Persian art?” Phillip smiled when Fran?ois didn’t answer, but his reaction provided full confirmation. “All those beautiful artefacts. Did these drug-dealing and murdering criminals... or is it one criminal? Aha. One. Did he buy your help with artefacts?” Phillip sighed, his disappointment real. “Oh, Fran?ois. You had so much potential.”
Movement by the door caught my attention. Daniel put his phone back in his pocket and stepped closer to us. “Gilles Mahout is dead.”
“What?” Fran?ois jumped up from his chair, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. “How?”
Daniel shrugged as if this was not important information. Or as if Fran?ois’ reaction telling us that he’d known Gilles wasn’t significant. Daniel’s bored expression was convincing. “We’ve been looking for him for days. We got a lead and it must’ve happened mere minutes before we got to him. He was still bleeding out.” He shrugged again. “It happened about an hour ago.”
“That’s it.” The lawyer also got up, this time not allowing Fran?ois to shake off his hand. “We’re leaving.”
“But...”
“Not another word.” The lawyer lowered his voice and widened his eyes until Fran?ois nodded. He turned to Daniel. “Is my client under arrest?”
“No.”
“Good, because you have nothing to justify an arrest.” The lawyer gave Fran?ois a warning look and waited until the latter nodded. “We’re leaving.”
“Don’t go too far.” Daniel stepped into the lawyer’s path. “Make sure your client is available for further questioning.”
The lawyer didn’t answer Daniel, just stepped around him and led Fran?ois out of the room. When they reached the hallway, Fran?ois looked back, the stark fear from before again contracting his facial muscles, his eyes pleading as he stared at Phillip.
The lawyer pulled him away, whispering furiously.
“Well, that was unusual.” Daniel sat down.
“Is Gilles really dead?” Phillip asked.
“Yes.” Daniel looked at me. “I knew breaking the news to Fran?ois was a risk, but I also thought we might get a lot from his reaction.”
“We did.” I knew Francine had recorded this interview and I wanted to watch it again. This man was a fascinating study.
“We know that he knew Gilles and he knew Gilles’ life was in danger.” Phillip leaned back in his chair. “The question is whether he worked for or with Gilles.”
Chapter SEVENTEEN
“And?” Manny was waiting for us when the elevator doors opened to the team room. He nodded once at Phillip, then looked back at me. “Is everything Phillip asked true?”
“Yes.” I was tempted to expand on my answer since I found Fran?ois such an interesting person to study, but Vinnie was standing by the round table, his arms crossed and his usual smile not present.
“Come. Eat.” Vinnie waved at the table. “There’s plenty.”
My eyes widened when I looked at the plates covering the table. “Plenty is an understatement—something you almost never... no, I can’t remember you understating anything.”
His smile lifted his cheeks and he lowered his arms. “I might’ve gone a bit overboard.”
“I’m not going to complain.” Phillip walked to the table and immediately put three pastries on a small plate.
Daniel was already seated at the table. I sat down next to Colin and he kissed me on my cheek. “All well?”
I nodded and reached for a pastry—one that didn’t make such a mess. It was only half past twelve, but my stomach reacted to the sight of the food as if I hadn’t eaten all day. I also was very grateful for the coffee Vinnie had prepared. Even though I hadn’t wanted any while talking to Fran?ois, I needed the warmth as well as the caffeine.
Vinnie sat down, but kept a wary eye on Manny. The latter was speaking to Francine at her desk. The concern on her face had not lessened. Neither had the dark rings under her eyes. I was becoming worried about her too.
Colin’s phone rang and he lifted it off the table. And smiled. He swiped the screen. “Johan, I didn’t expect to hear from you again. Pardon? Wait, say that again.” Colin lowered his phone and put it on speaker. He motioned with his hand for us to be quiet.
“People are dying, Isaac.” Johan’s clear English came through Colin’s phone. “You didn’t tell me élodie was killed. And now I’m getting intel that people associated with élodie are also being killed. Is that true?”
Colin raised his eyebrows. “Yes.”
Manny and Francine joined us at the table, sitting down quietly. No one was eating or drinking, everyone too interested in what the man who’d reproduced the Roubaud had to say.
“Are you doing something to stop this? You know I only do art. I paint. I reproduce. I don’t forge and I’ve worked hard to make sure everyone knows that I’m not in the business of crime. I don’t want any connection to these murders.”
Colin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head while listening to Johan. “What do you know?”
I wished I could see the man’s face so I could better read the nuances of his communication. Colin had heard something in his voice or words I hadn’t noticed.
For a few seconds there was no response. Then Johan cleared his throat. “élodie provided me with paint. She was very specific about the paint she wanted me to use for the Roubaud. I’d told her that it was not ideal and it would affect the authenticity of the reproduction, but she wouldn’t budge.” He paused. “She also said she had a 3D-printed Pollock and loved it. But the person who did that one is no longer in the painting business. He’s now only doing statues. Then she asked me if I could do these paintings with a 3D printer if she provided me with the equipment and paint. She was talking about producing large quantities. Not as forgeries, of course. All of them would be clear reproductions.”
“Did you agree?” Colin asked.