Art of Murder by José Carlos Somoza Page B

now, just imagine it was all stage-managed. Imagine that Diaz is no crazier than you or I, and that the recordings and all the sadistic paraphernalia are a piece of theatre aimed at throwing us off the scent. To make us think it was the work of some serial killer when in reality it was our competitors who paid him to destroy the painting just before the auction.' He paused, raised an eyebrow. 'You used to be a policeman, Lothar. What do you make of the idea?'
    Ridiculous, Bosch thought to himself. Fortunately for him, he did not have to conceal his thoughts as he had done the cup to prevent Benoit guessing what he was thinking.
    'I find it hard to accept,' he said finally.
    'Why?'
    'Because I simply cannot believe someone was capable of doing that to a girl like Annek simply to spoil our multi-million dollar sale, Paul. You have more experience in that area, but . . . just think - if they wanted to destroy the canvas, there are a thousand quicker ways of doing it ... and even if they wanted to imitate a sadistic act, as you say, there are other ways to go about it ... she was a fourteen-year-old girl, godammit. They cut her up with . .. with a sort of electric saw ... and she was still alive while they were doing it ...'
    'She was not a fourteen-year-old girl, Lothar,' Benoit corrected him. 'She was a painting valued at a starting price of fifty million dollars.'
    'OK, but. . .'
    'Either you see it that way, or you'll be on completely the wrong track.'
    Bosch nodded. For a few moments all that could be heard was the dialogue between De Baas and Speckled Hyacinth.
    'Dioxacine helps create a deeper violet-blue colour, Pietro.'
     
    'You always say the same thing, Mr De Baas ... but it's not your arms that itch the whole time.'
     
    'Please, Pietro, don't get so upset. We're trying to help you. I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll talk to Mr Hoffmann. If he says the dioxacine is essential, we'll find some way to anaesthetise your arms ... just your arms - what do you think? ... It could be done .. .'
    'Fifty million dollars is a lot of money,' said Benoit.
    At this, Bosch's semblance of calm evaporated. He stopped nodding and glared at Benoit.
    'Yes, a lot. But just you point out to me the person capable of doing that to a fourteen-year-old girl in order to spoil our million-dollar auction. Point that person out to me and tell me: He's the one. And let me look him in the eye and see for myself there's nothing but money, works of art and auctions on his mind. Only then will I admit you're right'
    A clink of china. One of De Baas' assistants was putting the empty cups back on the Trolley, who was waiting on her knees to receive them.
    'Of course I'm not saying the person who destroyed the canvas was a Saint Francis of Assisi, if that's what you mean .. .'
    'He was a sadistic bastard.' Bosch's cheeks flamed a colour that the lights in the room turned to a deep maroon. 'I can't wait to lay my hands on him.'
    The two men fell silent. 'Getting mad with Benoit won't get you anywhere,' Bosch told himself. 'Calm down.' He glanced over at the screens. The canvas was busy agreeing with De Baas' advice. Bosch remembered that Speckled Hyacinth was displayed with the right calf lifted over the shoulder and the head resting on the sole of the foot. He could not imagine himself twisted into such a contortion for even a split second, but Hyacinth put up with it for six hours a day.
    Bosch realised Benoit was also looking at the screens.
    'My God, what it takes to conserve these works. Sometimes I dream of destroying them, too.'
    Hearing words like this from the Head of Conservation took Lothar Bosch aback. Benoit often spoke harshly when there were no canvases or luxury ornaments who could hear him, but he did not usually show any weakness. At least, not in public. He gave the false impression of being a gentle old age pensioner one could trust. His bald, round head looked like an anti-stress ball: you looked at it, and it seemed you could squeeze