“That and you love the croissants,” Lester interjected.
Harry chuckled. His belly shook as he did. “He’s got a good point. They make some of the best in the world just up the street from here. But I’m getting off subject, and if I had to guess, you’re probably in a bit of a hurry based on your reason for this whole search.”
Adriana and Allyson both nodded.
The host’s face grew distant, and he stared off into one of the opposite corners at the olive green wall. “I once had ambition. I thought I knew more about great artwork than anyone else in Europe, maybe in the world.”
From the start of his anecdote, it didn’t sound like Harry was going to be as quick with the information as promised.
“My biggest interest was in art that the world had lost. As most people know, and obviously you do too, many great pieces were stolen or destroyed during the war. The Allied unit called Monuments Men, who went through Europe trying to recover these missing pieces, fascinated me. So I dedicated my time and effort to where they failed, or never even tried. The Rembrandt you’re looking for is one that I’ve spent a good number of hours on, mostly because he was my favorite painter.”
He fiddled with his thumbs as he continued the story. “I was perplexed by this particular painting. It was clear Hitler brought it to Paris, but finding leads to its whereabouts, especially sixty years after the war, proved to be nearly impossible.”
“I can imagine,” Adriana said. “You must have first gone through the manifests, lists of people who worked at the museum, officers involved with transportation and handling, that sort of stuff.” Her comment served two purposes. She wanted to show that she was savvy to the world of hunting down lost art, but she also wanted to speed the story along.
“Very good,” he said, beaming with pride. “And let me tell you, I spent thousands of hours on this one painting.”
Allyson was less patient. She’d been sitting next to Lester, who looked like a happy puppy beside her, desperately wanting to put a gun to Harry’s head and make him cough up the information. Instead, she tried the direct conversational approach.
“Were you able to find anything useful?”
He nodded. “After a tremendous amount of effort, yes. I was finally able to track down the name of a woman.” He laughed, his eyes staring absently at the floor. “I assume she was someone like us, a person who desperately wanted to save a priceless piece of art from a monster. She didn’t officially work for anyone, not the German High Command, not the museum, no one. She was, for all intents and purposes, an art spy. Hard to imagine, but this woman was in the business of espionage to salvage great works.”
“Not as hard to imagine as you might think,” Adriana said. “I have to wonder, though, if she wasn’t being paid by the Nazis and didn’t work in the museum, getting in would have been difficult. Finding her six decades later would have been harder.”
“It wasn’t easy, as I said before. But I’m a pesky bugger. I don’t give up easy. When I start something, I keep at it until the job’s done. Fortunately for me, they’d taken a picture of the staff the week before the museum was to open. If I’m honest, I wish I’d found that picture at the beginning. Would have saved me a boatload of time and stress. Her name was Greta Klugen. That picture was the only identifying bit I could get on her. Once I had that, I was able to track her down to her hometown of Heidelberg. Of course, that was after I’d exhausted every name listed on that picture.”
Allyson’s interest increased exponentially. “So you went there? Did you find anything?”
Harry shook his head. His face flushed red, almost ashamed. “I couldn’t go. I… I don’t leave the house much.”
“Because he’s a shut-in,” Lester added.
The host was irritated by his friend’s insulting tone. “I’m not a shut-in, Lester. I just… I have severe anxiety about going out in public. Driving is also an issue. I can’t get on airplanes or trains.”
“He has an assistant who gets him things he needs,” Lester chimed in again.
“Thank you very much, Lester. I think you’ve said quite enough,” Harry spat. Lester shrank deeper into the couch.
“So you never had the chance to investigate whether or not she was the one who took the painting?” Adriana asked.
“Yeah, and what makes you so sure that she was the one who took it?” Allyson added.
He shrugged. “A hunch.”
Allyson was incredulous. “A hunch?” She turned her gaze to Lester. “Is this guy serious?”
Before he could respond, Harry defended himself. “It’s a hunch based on a great deal of research and information. While I can’t prove without a shadow of a doubt that Klugen was the one who took the painting, I can say with great certainty that everyone else in that picture did not take it.”
“And why is that?” Adriana asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Harry leaned forward, putting both feet flat on the floor and resting his elbows on his knees. His face drooped into a grave, secretive expression. “Because she left Paris the day before it closed.” He relaxed and reclined back into the seat again. “The next obvious question is: How do I know that? And you would be correct to ask. Well, I found documents, that’s how. There were time sheets, payrolls, all kinds of stuff. And it was tedious work. Fortunately, some of my assistants were able to minimize the droll task of going through everything. Eventually, we found an anomaly. The day before many of the other paintings were evacuated, Klugen vanished. And the Rembrandt went with her. There were files detailing the inventory of the evacuation. They were sloppily done, probably done in haste. But the Rembrandt wasn’t on the list. There was no mention of what happened to it. So yes, it’s a hunch. But it’s an educated one.”
The room fell into contemplative silence. Lester’s eyes bounced from one person to the next, waiting to see what would be said next. Harry’s answer had certainly quieted Allyson’s initial concerns.
Adriana pondered the information. After a few moments of careful consideration, she said, “I’m assuming that, given the time frame for all of this, Mrs. Klugen is no longer with us.”
“And you’d be right,” Harry confirmed. “She passed away ten years ago. Lived a long time, though. Had a bunch of kids. One of her daughters, Emilia, still lives in her mother’s home in Heidelberg. Those Germans really love their old homes. I met a girl once who lived in a house that was six hundred years old.”
Lester derailed the conversation. “How old is this house, Harry?”
The host shrugged. “Couple hundred years. But downright modern by comparison. It’s virtually a new construction.” He let out another bellowing laugh. Lester joined in, but the two women were busy contemplating their next move.
“You got an address for us?” Allyson asked, almost rudely.
Adriana corrected her. “What she means is, you don’t happen to still have the address, do you? It would save us some time if we could get there as soon as possible.”
“You don’t need to worry about being proper with me,” Harry answered with a smile. “It’s just nice to have some pleasant company around for a change. Usually, all I get is Lester.”
“He’s not wrong. I’m not usually pleasant.” Lester agreed.
“I’ve got the address in my study. It’s in a notebook I created during my research. I’ll go upstairs and get it.”
The three visitors waited patiently for the next ten minutes while Harry went upstairs to look for the notebook.