Near midnight, though, they’d found nothing even closely related to the missing Rembrandt.
Adriana crossed her arms and scanned the room. “That’s all of it. I guess we look upstairs.”
Allyson was doubtful. Dark circles had formed under her eyes. When she spoke, her voice dragged as if she was about to fall asleep while still standing. “What if there is nothing? What if Harry was wrong or what if Greta Klugen’s daughter got rid of the evidence when her mother passed away? We could spend all night looking and never find anything.”
Her questions were things Adriana had already considered. They came from a doubtful corner of her mind where dread and fear waited to pounce. She couldn’t allow those thoughts to win. This house was the right place. It had to be.
“Come on,” she said, heading toward the stairs. “Look at it this way, when we find this painting, it’s going to be worth several million dollars in your account. A few hours of looking around a stranger’s house should be worth that. Right?”
Allyson took a deep breath and nodded. “You make a good point.”
At the top of the stairs, another doorway opened into a small foyer where the main entrance was located. A coat hanger and mirror were on the opposing wall, along with a picture of an old woman and a fat, black-and-white cat.
That explains the smell, Adriana thought, twitching her nose. There was no sign of the feline, which meant the cat was probably no longer around even though the scent was.
The women turned left into an area where a small kitchen and living room merged. A stone fireplace was situated in the center of the back wall. The front wall featured the two large windows Adriana had noted previously. The living room was modestly decorated, mostly with things that were over two decades old.
“It’s like walking into my grandmother’s house,” Allyson said, eyeing the afghan on the hideously upholstered couch. “That couch looks like every drab color in existence threw up all over it.”
Adriana couldn’t help but snort at the comment. “Come on, let’s have a look around. The bedroom should be back here. Maybe there’s something in a closet or dresser.”
“Fine.” Allyson said.
She reluctantly followed her partner through the living room to an open doorway in the far corner. It opened into a short corridor where they found a bathroom, a miniscule guest room, and then the master bedroom and bath.
“You know,” Adriana disrupted the silence as she walked over to a dresser, pulled open a drawer, and sifted through the socks, underwear and other personal items, “I don’t mean to sound critical but, are you always this lazy?”
Allyson frowned and cocked her head to the side. “That’s a rude thing to say. What makes you think I’m lazy?”
Adriana closed the drawer after finding nothing of interest and went to the next one down. “In the world we work in, and reality in general, things are often not easily obtained. Not if they’re worth having, anyway. We have to put in a great deal of work to get what we want.”
Allyson floated over to the closet and pulled open the two shuttered doors. Inside was an array of vintage clothing. It smelled vintage too, as if they’d been hanging there for thirty years, letting moths and dust do their worst. “Ugh, these clothes. And thanks for the lecture, Mom. I prefer to think of it as working smarter instead of harder.”
“Sometimes, we have to do both.” Adriana knew her words were lost on the other woman. Honestly, she didn’t think they would change Allyson’s mind. But she’d had about enough of the complaining. The only reason she’d let her come along was because she thought it would cut down on the time spent finding the missing art. Now that decision was coming into question.
If Allyson didn’t start pulling her weight soon, Adriana might have to consider dropping her off in a remote location. After all, she knew Allyson would do the same to her at any moment. It was inevitable. A tiger couldn’t change its stripes.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Allyson apologized. It sounded sincere. “I’m just tired. Normally, I don’t whine this much.” Her tone took on the gravity of a confessional booth. “And I’m angry. I can’t believe Frank just sat there and lied right through his teeth to me. I don’t like to admit it, but you were right.”
Adriana was busy sifting through a drawer of tightly folded shirts. She was starting to get frustrated as well. The Heidelberg lead was growing colder by the second, and it was the only one they had. Could Harry have been mistaken? Of course, he could have. He said it himself. The lead with Klugen was a gut instinct. He’d done a ton of research, but in the end there was no real, concrete evidence. So Adriana understood Allyson’s frustration. She just didn’t complain about it. That did no good for either of them. She was of the mindset that if something doesn’t help, it’s hurting.
“What was I right about?” she asked absently as she closed the drawer and went to the lowest one near the floor.
Allyson pulled a tacky-looking polyester dress to the right and found a stack of boxes. She tugged the lid off one and started looking through it. The thing was full of picture frames, old candles, a notebook, and a few nature magazines.
“About Frank killing me when this is all over. I could see it in his eyes. What a slimeball.” She picked through the collection of junk, tossing items aside as they proved worthless. Then she flipped through the notebook only to find to-do lists and a few other mundane notes from Klugen’s daily life. “I can’t believe I trusted him. After all I’ve done for him.”
For two seconds, Adriana almost felt sorry for her. Then she reminded herself that the woman was a cold-hearted criminal. There was nothing she wouldn’t do and no one she wouldn’t stab in the back to get what she wanted.
“It happens,” she said and offered no other consolation.
Their conversation ended abruptly, and the two women continued their search in silence. They scoured the bedroom, leaving no proverbial stone unturned. Adriana had to remind Allyson to make sure she put everything back as she found it and not leave a mess. It was the least they could do for invading the German woman’s home. If they could make it look like no one had ever been there, that was what Adriana wanted.
Their search continued into the other rooms of the main floor, but after another hour of looking through nearly everything, they came up empty handed. It was near one thirty in the morning when Adriana finally put her hands on her hips and let out a weary sigh.
They’d been there for hours and found nothing. The reality began to set in that maybe, just maybe, they had come to the wrong place, that Harry had been wrong after all.
Allyson slumped into one of the couches and rested her head on the back. “I can’t do any more tonight. I’m too tired. I’m sorry if you think I’m lazy, but if there was something here, we would have found it already.”
Adriana rubbed her eyes and face with her left hand, still standing there in the middle of the room. She was in disbelief, her jaw clenched tight in frustration. It had to be here. This was the place. Harry wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble and been so convinced of it if Klugen’s home was the wrong spot.
Allyson spoke up again, this time with an even more sluggish voice. “Maybe we can tell them that the painting was destroyed. They said that was one of the options.”
“No,” Adriana shook her head. “We would have to have undeniable proof. Being unable to find it wouldn’t qualify. They’d kill my father, and us too.”