2 The Dante Connection by Estelle Ryan Page B

but stopped when he threatened to disown them last year. His body might not be the strongest, but his mind is sharper than most thirty-year-olds’.”
    “Should I assume that your family is affluent?” I asked.
    Vinnie snorted. “You could say that.”
    “Yes,” Francine said. “My mother’s family comes from old money. There are a lot of artworks that have been in the family for generations.”
    “Her family is the Lemartins,” Vinnie said with meaning.
    “I don’t know what that means,” I said when all three of them looked at me expectantly. Was I supposed to react in some way?
    “They are one of the most influential families in France,” Colin explained. “Old money, high standing and power.”
    I was about to comment on Francine’s lack of social standing when I noticed the warning on Colin’s face. I pressed my lips together. Francine saw this and laughed, but immediately grabbed her ribs and breathed through the pain.
    “Don’t worry, Genevieve, this is one of the reasons I started hanging out with you. You don’t give a fig about social importance. It’s annoying to be with people who are in awe of my bloodline. You’re not. And you’re most likely right in whatever it is you’re thinking right now.” She started ticking off on her fingers. “I’m financially independent from my family and they so don’t like it. But that is not the biggest issue they have with me. My loving family doesn’t want anything to do with me because I don’t care about the stupid little elitist clubs they belong to. I don’t brownnose, I don’t care what other people think of me and I definitely don’t care about their money.”
    She had become more emotional talking about her family, so I didn’t think it prudent to ask about the many words she used that I was not familiar with. I did, however, understand the gist. I had always been a social outcast. At least until I had learned to copy social behaviour. Personally, I had never felt the strong urge for belonging, but knew it was important to most people and they would do whatever it took to gain acceptance. Anyone not succumbing to social pressure was remarkably courageous in my opinion.
    “You’re brave,” I said.
    “Or just stupid,” Francine said with a smile in her voice. “At least that’s what my mother’s family always told me. Except for my great-uncle. He is a bit eccentric and as he gets older, he supports me more.”
    Most often people said more by not saying something. Francine’s omission of support from her parents was telling. I also observed her increased discomfort with this topic. She had seldom ventured into her personal history during our lunches.
    “Back to the burglary,” she said, her tone less emotional. “Two weeks ago, my great-uncle was in Monaco for the weekend when his house was broken into. Of course he is insured, and he also employs a security company to watch over his house. He has a top-of-the-range security system throughout the property, but none of the alarms were set off during the burglary. There was no visible point of entry, no broken windows and the security cameras did not record anything. Basically, the crime did not happen, except for the missing art.”
    I glanced at Colin. His left eyebrow was lifted and the corners of his mouth turned down. “Just like the others.”
    “What others?” Vinnie asked.
    I told them about the burglaries that I was looking into. Colin had to listen to it for a second time. He shook his head when I finished.
    “You haven’t told them everything, Jenny.”
    “God, these burglaries are definitely all related,” Francine said. “I want to find these bastards. What else is there about this case?”
    “At some of the crime scenes the thieves left a red flower. The type of flower has not yet been confirmed and I’m not a botanist so I couldn’t identify it from the photos. Because these cases took place in different places with different types of law enforcement