Black, Brady Black
Chapter Four
"ISA. What happened?" Brady asked the policeman on the scene, flashing his badge.
The Munich officer looked at Brady's badge skeptically. "You boys must not have much to do if you're investigating a simple burglary," he commented with an air of wounded pride.
Brady sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to take this case away from you or anything. I just need a few answers. This case may be connected to others we're investigating, and it's really none of your business what the ISA does so once again, what happened?"
"Well, there's not really much to tell. No damage, no sign of forced entry - nothing missing except a painting."
"My da Vinci!" a man wailed whom Brady assumed to be the owner of the painting.
"The painting was in a guest bedroom that was unused at the time," the officer continued. "We think the burglar came over the balcony and picked the lock on the double French doors leading into the bedroom. He must also have bypassed the security for the room since the owner, Mr. Favian, insists that he had set the alarm before retiring for the evening."
Brady mulled over the information, his brow furrowing slightly. "This wasn't a typical break-in. The person knew what he was doing and what he was after." He turned to Mr. Favian. "Did anyone else know about the painting?"
"Only about 300 people. I held a ball a few nights ago celebrating my recent acquisition of the piece. I haven't even had it a week." The gentleman sighed. "Still, I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't take one of my other paintings."
"Why is that?"
"Well this particular painting isn't worth that much, not compared to my others, anyway. Da Vinci isn't really in demand right now. I only bought it because I thought it would go well in the guest bedroom. Just the right colors."
But Brady had stopped listening to the rambling owner. He was too busy wrapped up in his thoughts. It wasn't like Dimera to take one painting and leave others, especially ones that were more valuable. He expressed this concern to his father when he called him later from a pay phone.
"And it's the same thing with all the other thefts. Expert jobs - in some cases days passed before the owners noticed the paintings were gone. And in two of the cases, there were much more valuable paintings left behind."
"What pieces were taken?" John asked.
"Da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks, come to think of it, all the stolen paintings are da Vincis. Hmmm - maybe Dimera has a fondness for his work."
There was a momentary silence on the other end and John pondered this. "No, that's not how Dimera works. His favorite paintings are whatever happen to be worth more at the time. It's not the love of fine art that drives him; it's the love of money. It doesn't make sense for him to pinch a da Vinci, but leave behind a painting worth ten times as much. Unless.he thought that da Vinci's works would soon increase in value," he guessed.
"Why would they do that?"
"Different things can affect a piece's art value. If some new bit of information were learned about the artist, like an affair with a famous countess or a secret murder, then the demand for his works could go up. I'm not sure; this is really Hope's area of expertise. But still the value wouldn't go up by much - not enough to justify the effort Dimera's going through to acquire them. There's something more at work here. We need more information."
"Okay, I'm going to check some local places - try and get a bead on where Dimera is and what he's doing," Brady said.
"Good. Keep me posted."
"You must really love that painting," she said as she entered the room. "You've been staring at it for hours."
The graying gentleman looked up from the canvas. "Ah yes, but of course. How could I not love it?" He took a few steps back from the painting. "Look at it! The lines, the form, the colors! Da Vinci was a genius - look at the subtle play of light and dark. No one mastered chiaroscuro quite like he did. Sheer genius. Come, my dear, what do you think?"
The tall raven-haired woman stared at the painting. She crossed her arms, her slender fingers drumming along her bicep. "It's pretty. I like it."
The older gentleman gave a hearty laugh and caressed the girl's cheek. "I'm glad. When I am done with it, you may have it."
The girl smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. It wasn't the gift of the painting that so moved her, but the obvious and adoring love the man showered her with. She gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Father."
"My pleasure, my dear. Now, don't you have an engagement?"
The girl nodded and exited the room and the man went back to studying the painting. He bent forward until his face was mere inches from the canvas.
"Now, Leonardo, what secrets are you hiding?"
Chapter Four
"ISA. What happened?" Brady asked the policeman on the scene, flashing his badge.
The Munich officer looked at Brady's badge skeptically. "You boys must not have much to do if you're investigating a simple burglary," he commented with an air of wounded pride.
Brady sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to take this case away from you or anything. I just need a few answers. This case may be connected to others we're investigating, and it's really none of your business what the ISA does so once again, what happened?"
"Well, there's not really much to tell. No damage, no sign of forced entry - nothing missing except a painting."
"My da Vinci!" a man wailed whom Brady assumed to be the owner of the painting.
"The painting was in a guest bedroom that was unused at the time," the officer continued. "We think the burglar came over the balcony and picked the lock on the double French doors leading into the bedroom. He must also have bypassed the security for the room since the owner, Mr. Favian, insists that he had set the alarm before retiring for the evening."
Brady mulled over the information, his brow furrowing slightly. "This wasn't a typical break-in. The person knew what he was doing and what he was after." He turned to Mr. Favian. "Did anyone else know about the painting?"
"Only about 300 people. I held a ball a few nights ago celebrating my recent acquisition of the piece. I haven't even had it a week." The gentleman sighed. "Still, I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't take one of my other paintings."
"Why is that?"
"Well this particular painting isn't worth that much, not compared to my others, anyway. Da Vinci isn't really in demand right now. I only bought it because I thought it would go well in the guest bedroom. Just the right colors."
But Brady had stopped listening to the rambling owner. He was too busy wrapped up in his thoughts. It wasn't like Dimera to take one painting and leave others, especially ones that were more valuable. He expressed this concern to his father when he called him later from a pay phone.
"And it's the same thing with all the other thefts. Expert jobs - in some cases days passed before the owners noticed the paintings were gone. And in two of the cases, there were much more valuable paintings left behind."
"What pieces were taken?" John asked.
"Da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks, come to think of it, all the stolen paintings are da Vincis. Hmmm - maybe Dimera has a fondness for his work."
There was a momentary silence on the other end and John pondered this. "No, that's not how Dimera works. His favorite paintings are whatever happen to be worth more at the time. It's not the love of fine art that drives him; it's the love of money. It doesn't make sense for him to pinch a da Vinci, but leave behind a painting worth ten times as much. Unless.he thought that da Vinci's works would soon increase in value," he guessed.
"Why would they do that?"
"Different things can affect a piece's art value. If some new bit of information were learned about the artist, like an affair with a famous countess or a secret murder, then the demand for his works could go up. I'm not sure; this is really Hope's area of expertise. But still the value wouldn't go up by much - not enough to justify the effort Dimera's going through to acquire them. There's something more at work here. We need more information."
"Okay, I'm going to check some local places - try and get a bead on where Dimera is and what he's doing," Brady said.
"Good. Keep me posted."
"You must really love that painting," she said as she entered the room. "You've been staring at it for hours."
The graying gentleman looked up from the canvas. "Ah yes, but of course. How could I not love it?" He took a few steps back from the painting. "Look at it! The lines, the form, the colors! Da Vinci was a genius - look at the subtle play of light and dark. No one mastered chiaroscuro quite like he did. Sheer genius. Come, my dear, what do you think?"
The tall raven-haired woman stared at the painting. She crossed her arms, her slender fingers drumming along her bicep. "It's pretty. I like it."
The older gentleman gave a hearty laugh and caressed the girl's cheek. "I'm glad. When I am done with it, you may have it."
The girl smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. It wasn't the gift of the painting that so moved her, but the obvious and adoring love the man showered her with. She gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Father."
"My pleasure, my dear. Now, don't you have an engagement?"
The girl nodded and exited the room and the man went back to studying the painting. He bent forward until his face was mere inches from the canvas.
"Now, Leonardo, what secrets are you hiding?"
