Chapter 7
The house was as grandiose as June's in New York. Located in the 16th District, about a hundred meters from the Avenue Foch, the three floor mansion proudly stood in the middle of a beautiful garden. The white front and the light gray shutters gave a feeling of calm and peace.
"You couldn't settle for a small two-room flat, could you?"
Neal rolled his eyes.
"I could, but I would not have room for the art studio. And find a place to stay in Paris is a real nightmare, this was my sole option. Well, the only one that did not involve robbing a bank."
Peter was doubtful about the last part, but decided not to argue. The three of them entered the house. Diana and Peter could not suppress a cry of surprise. The inside was even more stunning than the outside. A stone staircase led to the upper floors, as did an ancient elevator with a wrought iron gate. On the right, the living room seemed to expect visitors. A marble fireplace stood in one corner, in front of a huge bay window opening on the luxuriant garden. You could easily forget you were in the middle of the City of Light.
"You can settle on one of the rooms on the 1st floor. I sleep in the first one on the right of the stairs. The other two are free. Each of them has its own bathroom. Feel free to choose the one you prefer."
"What about the second floor?" Diana asked.
"That's my art studio. With the bay window and the view, it's perfect."
"How surprising," Peter answered. "I'm really tired from the journey. I'm going to take advantage of your hospitality to shower and get some rest. I need to be fit before investigating our case."
"I didn't know that the Archeologist could be tired," Neal smiled. "I'm going to cook a little something while we wait for you. We can start working as soon as you're ready. "
WC*WC*WC
A little over an hour later, the three friends sat around the table in the kitchen, facing a bowl of salad périgourdine.
"Does a little something necessarily contain duck breast and foie Gras?" Peter could not help asking.
"You're in France, enjoy it!"
They ate in silence for a some time before Diana started talking.
"If we assume that you're innocent, Neal, we have to wonder if your presence on the scenes of the heists is only a coincidence. None of us believe in chance. So here comes the next question. If the thief wanted you to be there when he stroke, how did he do it?"
"We could reverse the question," Peter suggested. "The thief either made sure that you would come the city he was targeting, or he chose the target, according to the places you chose to go to. Both options are likely."
Neal turned the idea over and over in his mind.
"I'd lean more towards Diana's theory. Such projects take time to organize, and I only stayed in those cities for four to five weeks. You don't rob the Van Gogh Gallery with so little time at hand without collateral damage. It's the same with the Statens Museum for Kunst in Copenhagen and the Kunsthaus in Zurich. It is impossible."
"OK. Then I guess you have to tell us why you decided to roam around Europe."
"I think that I need to start from the beginning, from the moment I left New York, so that you can understand what I've done for the last two years. I believe that we're going to need another bottle of wine. And no, Peter, I don't have beer."
Taking a bottle of wine and three glasses, Neal headed toward the living room. The afternoon was going to be a long one, so they'd better settle comfortably. Both his friends followed him, curious as to what they were about to hear.