Treasure of Saint-Lazare Read Free Page A

was sorry to hear that. I remember him as a kind and interesting man.”
    “The police think it may not have been an accident, but aren’t sure yet. I’m here because of something that was important to him. When I went to find his will, there was one other envelope in the bank vault — addressed to your father. It looks pretty old.”
    She paused and took a deep breath, then drew a heavy beige envelope from her purse and handed it to Eddie. On it was written in blue ink, in a European script, “For Artie Grant. Please hand deliver to him as soon as possible.” It listed his mother’s address on the Place Vauban, where his parents had bought the penthouse apartment shortly after they were married in 1952. Eddie was born 16 years later and grew up there.
    “I caught a flight from Tampa as soon as I could. I had only the address on the envelope, no telephone number, so when my plane arrived I took a taxi straight there and met your mother. She asked me to pass the letter directly on to you. She handled it like it was radioactive.”
    “Margaux believes in letting the past stay in the past.”
    And in this case I agree with her, Eddie said to himself. Anything that involved Roy Castor was bound to deal ultimately with the immense quantities of art and other treasure the Nazis stole during the war, much of which had never been found. For a time it had been Artie’s holy grail as well, but he’d eventually turned his attention elsewhere.
    Eddie dropped the envelope on his lap, willing it to disappear. When it did not, he picked it up like something distasteful he’d found on the street, touching it only with his thumb and forefinger.
    “Was it sealed?”
    “I wasn’t about to fly all night to deliver a dirty joke.”
    “Tell me what’s in it.”
    “A short letter, very cryptic, one paragraph. I don’t understand it, but I can tell it refers back to their work at the end of the war. It’s not exactly a code, but an outsider would have a hard time getting it — I certainly didn’t. I don’t know a lot of details about my father’s war duties, but I know that after the Germans surrendered he and your father worked in Munich helping find stolen paintings. I know there was one special painting that interested him more than any other. Maybe you’ll understand it better.”
    “Or maybe Mother will.” Eddie unfolded the single sheet of rich beige stationery, heavy and stiff as though Roy had chosen it to last a long time. There was no date, but the paper had American dimensions, not European, so Eddie knew it had been written while Roy was in Florida. Just great, he thought. That narrows it down to the last thirty years or so.

    “Dear Artie:
    “The young fellow has disappeared into a dead end. I think the long-necked bastard planned to wind up in Paris and sent him there but he may also have used the underground railroad. Ask your round-heeled contact. Maybe you can find more than I could.
    “Roy”

    “What the hell does that mean?” Eddie asked, puzzled.
    “I don’t know. But he thought it was important enough to make sure I’d find it and get it to you. And he didn’t want to give up the chase during his lifetime — otherwise he would have mailed it, maybe years ago. We have to find out.”
    “We need to get on it right now. If your father was murdered there may be other things going on we need to know about. We’ll start with my mother. She’s the best one to fill you in on what your father and mine did together during the war, and she knows a lot more about the history of the time than I do. After all, she lived through it.”
    He read the letter again from start to finish. “I’d like to look at this more closely and think about what it might mean. Would you like to rest before we talk about it? You’ve been traveling a long time. And we’d like it if you would join us tonight. There’s a long-standing dinner with my mother on the schedule.”
    “We?”
    “Margaux, of course. Then