Death & Restoration

Mikis rang the next morning, and Mary followed instructions dutifully, and with some trepidation. The usual phone call from Louise had not come through and she was sick with worry. But she wasn’t going to let him know that. Instead, she calmly put the receiver down, walked out of her room and went to the nearest public phone.

“What about my grandchild?”

“All in good time.”

“Now is a very good time.”

“She is perfectly safe, of course, and has been moved closer to her home. You will get a call immediately after this if everything is well. Now, do you have that icon?”

She took a deep breath, “Yes,” she said. “That is, I will have it in an hour.”

“Where is it?”

“That’s none of your business. Trade secrets.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mrs Verney. I want to know where it is.”

“And I am telling you that it is none of your business. I will pick it up in an hour and give it to you later today. That’s all you need to know. I’m not having you killing someone else. What did you do that for? It was stupid and unnecessary. All it did was stir the police up.”

There was a snort from the other end. “I thought he had the picture and was lying when he told me he didn’t. I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“And I suppose you’ll finish off with me?”

Charanis chuckled. “Oh, dear me, no. We are partners, don’t you remember? I’d never do that to a partner. Besides, who knows when you might come in useful again. A woman of your talents. And such an unlikely person as well. Who would ever suspect you?”

“The Rome police, for one.”

“Ah, yes. So they do. What happened?”

“They pulled me in. Quite right too. This has been such a disaster I might as well have begged them to arrest me. Fortunately, all they have is strong suspicion. But I want this over and done with before they get anything more. So let’s get on with it. If you want the icon, you have to keep to the deal. Let Louise go.”

“I have to see it first.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, yes, it is. You will show me the picture. From a sufficient distance, if you wish.”

She thought fast. “Very well. In an hour and a half you should be by the Ponte Umberto on the Lungotevere Marzio side. By the bus stop. I will come there and show you the picture. Then you will release Louise. When I have confirmation from her mother that she is free and unharmed, I will tell you where to get it.”

There was a long pause from the other end.

“One hour, then,” he said.

Mary Verney put down the phone, her heart beating hard. Now came the difficult bit.

“There we are. What do you think? Of course, it’s a bit rough.”

Dan Menzies stood back nervously, and allowed Flavia to pick up the icon and turn it over in her hands.

“The face isn’t right,” he went on nervously, like a chef fishing for compliments on his work.

Flavia studied the face carefully.

“And some of the scratches and scraped bits aren’t perfect,” he added. Flavia switched her attention to these as well.

“But I’m quite pleased with the back. Quite pleased. Although with a bit more time …”

Flavia put it down, stood back and nodded. “I think you’ve done a great job,” she said eventually. “Better than I could have hoped for.”

“Do you? Do you really?” Menzies said gratefully. “Of course, it is pretty good. Not many people could have done that, not in the time. Someone like d’Onofrio, you know. He’d still be picking the wood.”

“We chose well,” Flavia said reassuringly. “I’m delighted. There is one thing, though. It still smells of paint, a bit. Is there anything you can do about that? I hope it won’t matter, but you never know. We have some latitude as Mary Verney will think you’ve been restoring it, but I reckon she will spot it if there is too much.”

“How long have we got?”

She looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes maximum.”

Menzies thought for a second. “Microwave,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Stick it in.”

“Do you want it switched on?”

“God, no. I don’t want to cook it. I just want a fairly airtight container.”

He fussed around fetching ingredients, and put them into a small metal bowl with a candle underneath.

“What’s that?”

“Incense. Covers a multitude of smells and gives anything the true odour of sanctity. Plus one or two other ingredients that will smoke and give off a smell.”

“Such as?”

Menzies grinned. “Dirty socks. Wool ones. Old friend taught me that. Ten or fifteen minutes should be enough to neutralize the smell of paint. Again, not a permanent job, but it should get us through the day. The knack is to make sure they smoulder, and don’t burst into flame. Otherwise I’ll have to start again.”

Certainly, the smell that came out of the microwave when he opened it up a quarter of an hour later had no traces of paint in it. And it was equally evident that the microwave would never be quite the same again, but no matter. Expenses would cover it, if all went well. And if all didn’t go well, she’d have more to worry about.

“Good,” she said. “Now I’ll have to go. Could you keep an eye on it until someone comes along for it? It’ll be a woman in her fifties, who’ll tell you she’s in the police.”

“By all means,” said the suddenly friendly and cooperative restorer. “No problem.”

And Flavia left. Paolo rang her up a few minutes later; Mrs Verney, he said, had left as well. Here we go, she thought.