The girls slept late the next morning. They had sat up talking, going over the events of the day and Stephanie had lain awake for a long time after Anna had gone to bed. She couldn’t be sure, but she hoped it wasn’t James driving the SUV. That would have been pretty extreme. He wouldn’t have had time to get to it after they had left the club. Would he? But he had been really insistent that I stop looking into his family or I would get hurt. The thing is though, I haven’t really looked into his family, just my aunt and… She sat up in bed. That was it. James must know about the painting. Sophie’s last entry had been just before she died when she was on her way to Knox Manor to visit Edward’s mother. Maybe she had seen something there that she shouldn’t have. This had to be all about the painting. What was a piece of art that had been requisitioned by the Nazis doing hanging in the Knoxes’ library all these years? But the bigger question was; who else knew?
Anna popped out to pick up coffee and bagels the next morning, while Stephanie made a few phone calls. She had opened Anna’s refrigerator earlier in search of food instead finding it to be sparsely populated – some long life milk, cheese and several bottles of wine.
Her first call was to her father’s office. Although it was Saturday morning and most staff wouldn’t be working, she suspected that her father would have Emily there, even if it was just to make coffee for his meeting. It was a good guess. Emily answered in a professional clipped voice. When she realised it was Stephanie on the other end, she relaxed into her usual midlands accent.
“Your dad’s asked not to be disturbed before his meeting at noon – shall I leave him a message for you?” she said.
“No, that’s okay – don’t tell him I called. I was just going to see if he wanted lunch. Does he still have his foreign visitor with him?” Stephanie said.
“Yes and more coming. We will have half of Israel here soon,” Emily said. “Steph – you might have to call your dad on his mobile if you need to talk to him today as they are all driving down to Carlswick straight after the meeting. I’ve had to organise five estate cars and book a whole lot of rooms at the hotel.”
“Are they?” Stephanie said. She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Well, I hope he doesn’t make you work too long today.” She said goodbye to Emily and hung up.
Anna returned with coffee, which Stephanie gratefully grabbed as she was dialling her grandmother’s number. It rang four times before it was answered. Ellie was delighted to hear from Stephanie.
“Grandma, there is something that you may be able to help me with. You mentioned the other day that your brother David conducted his own investigation into Sophie’s death. Did he make any notes – leave anything written that you might have?” she asked.
“I don’t have anything, dear. But the library in the village has his memoirs,” Ellie said.
Stephanie gave a sharp intake of breath. Have I caught Dad in a lie? She clearly remembered her father telling her at dinner that David didn’t write a memoir. Stephanie felt a sharp pang of guilt. She shouldn’t be suspecting her father of anything untoward. It was possible that he didn’t know that David had written anything. Although the thought felt false, especially as she knew what a history buff her father was. Where else did I learn to love the subject?
“Now, when are you coming home, dear? It’s very quiet without you coming and going,” Ellie asked.
“Later today, I think,” Stephanie said.
Stephanie ended the call and stared at the phone for a few moments. Funny that Dad failed to mention yesterday that he was heading to Carlswick this weekend. And David did leave a memoir. This is getting stranger all the time. One thing’s certain; I need to get hold of that memoir, she concluded.
She scrolled through the phone book on her mobile phone and pressed the telephone symbol beside Michael’s name.
After a brief conversation, he agreed to drive into the village and see if the library would allow the memoir to be loaned out, and hold it for her until she got home later in the day. She couldn’t guarantee that she would get back to Carlswick before the library closed, what with British train services being as unreliable as they were.
“Can I read it?” he asked.
“Of course, if you have time – I’m keen to know what it says about his investigations into the Knoxes and my aunt’s death,” she said.
“Okay. So this is what you’ve been looking into. But I don’t see what your Sophie’s death has to do with old paintings?” Michael mused, mentally linking the internet search he ran with Stephanie’s current request.
“I am hoping the memoir will shed some light on that,” Stephanie replied.
“Okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’ll pick you up from the station. Text me when you’re on the train.”
Stephanie thanked him and said goodbye, clicking her phone shut and gulping the last of her coffee.
“Anna – that foreign guy at Dad’s office yesterday was Israeli. And there is a meeting scheduled at midday with more of his colleagues and then they are all driving down to Carlswick. I’m going to do a little research here this morning and then do you fancy coming back down to the country with me for a few days?”
Anna grinned. “Yeah. Apparently, there’s a great coffee shop in your village that I must try.”
Stephanie laughed and curled up in a comfy armchair with her iPad and continued reviewing the websites that Michael had identified which mentioned Hoffman. What had become of him? Her mind wandered to her father. What was he up to? She was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t somehow involved with the painting too. Trips to Carlswick with Israeli military types – maybe they were looking for stolen Jewish art? No. That would be too coincidental. But then again her father was relieved that she was in London which was strange given how delighted he was that she was spending the summer with her grandmother. It was all very confusing.
Anna’s mobile phone ringing interrupted her thoughts.
“Sorry, Steph,” Anna said after she ended the call. “I can’t come back with you. That was my agent. I have an audition for that movie, tomorrow morning.”
“That’s great,” Stephanie said. Anna had been actively campaigning for an audition for a role in what was touted as the next blockbuster, ever since the production company had announced their intention to make the movie. “Why don’t you come down after the audition? I’m sure Andy would love to see you,” she added suggestively, waggling her eyebrows.
Stephanie spent a little longer surfing the web. It appeared that in 1941 Hoffman had been replaced as curator of the Nationalgalerie in Berlin. But she could find no reference to him after that time. I am missing something here, she thought frustrated. I need Michael’s computer wizardry. She closed her iPad and quickly packed her things.
“There’s a train back to the village at one-thirty pm so I’d better go now, if I’m going to make it. See you tomorrow?” Stephanie said, hugging her friend goodbye. “And good luck for the audition or break a leg or whatever it is that you say.”
“Thanks. I’ll text when I’m on my way,” Anna replied, returning her hug.
“Great. I’ll pick you up. Thanks for last night. Sorry I had to spoil it with all this,” Stephanie said, waving her hand vaguely at her iPad.
“It’s fine. We just need to get to the bottom of it. I have a feeling that whatever your dad is up to will resolve this,” Anna reassured her.
Unfortunately Stephanie was not sure which side he was on. She shivered, feeling icy fingers running down her back. Surely he was not involved with the stolen painting?