“They were all portraits of women, some young, some old,” Lestrade answered. “Most were done by Italian artists from the Renaissance period, a few by French painters named Renoir and Cézanne. I could make no connection between them, nor could the experts at the art galleries. So at this point, all we can say is that the vandal disliked women and went out of his way to deface any of their depictions.”
“Hmm,” Joanna hummed, obviously not impressed with the inspector’s conclusion. “Was there evidence of forced entry at the crime scenes?”
“We inspected the front and rear entrances to the galleries and homes, and found no such indication,” Lestrade replied.
“Then, how did the vandal gain entrance?”
“That is to be determined.”
“That must be determined, for therein may lie a most important key to the crime.” Joanna wrinkled her brow, concentrating on the information at hand. She nodded at one thought and shook her head at another, as if one piece of data fit while another did not. Several minutes passed before she spoke again. “I take it no clues were discovered.”
“Only a tattered scarf,” Lestrade said and reached into his topcoat for a wrapped package. He carefully removed the wrapping to expose a soiled, old scarf which he held out like it was contaminated. “This garment, which we believe belonged to the perpetrator, was found at the scene of the latest act of vandalism.”
Joanna asked, “Are you of the opinion that it was left behind unintentionally?”
“So the evidence would suggest,” Lestrade responded. “The vandal was going about his work when a security guard on his rounds opened the door to the restoration section of the gallery. The vandal became alarmed and bolted, knocking the guard to the floor in the process. On his way out, the scarf became snagged on a door chain and the vandal, in his hurry, did not stop to retrieve it.”
“Was the security guard able to describe the vandal?” Joanna inquired.
“Unfortunately not,” Lestrade replied. “The restoration area was quite dim, for the lights were off, and all the guard could see was an ill-defined shadow moving in the darkness.”
“Did the security guard give chase?”
“Only after gathering himself, for the fall landed him in a stack of standing paintings and unfinished canvases. By then, the vandal had made good his escape.” Lestrade moved the scarf closer to the light of the fire to give us a better view. “As you can see, it is old and worn and appears to contain no worthwhile clues. Nevertheless, I shall show it to one of my sergeants who is quite good at tracking down the source of a given item of clothing.”
“An excellent idea,” said Joanna. “But it is not the source of the scarf which is important here. Rather, it is the features of the man who wore it.”
“Unfortunately there are no clues pointing to its owner.” Lestrade raised the scarf even higher and allowed it to unfold itself. “As you will note, there are no tags or written names or initials on the garment. Thus, the identification of the vandal remains a mystery.”
“May I?” Joanna requested, reaching out a hand.
“By all means.”
Joanna held the scarf up to a nearby lamp and examined every square inch on both sides, first by gross inspection, then with the aid of a magnifying glass. Over and over she went through the same process, paying particular attention to the edges of the scarf and the areas where it appeared most worn. Like a bloodhound that has picked up the scent, she continued her researches, seeming to measure and remeasure with her fingers several stained markings. Finally, she sniffed at the garment and made a face, indicating the presence of a disagreeable odor.
“Coal tar,” Joanna remarked.
“Is that of importance?” Lestrade asked.
“Very,” Joanna said and gave the scarf back to the inspector.
“But surely that does not reveal the identity of the vandal.”
“That remains unknown, but there are a few helpful hints you may find of value.” Joanna returned to the Persian slipper for another cigarette and went back to pacing. “You should be searching for a man in his middle years who once had a quite good income, but now has fallen on hard times. He is neat and tidy and cares greatly about appearance. I also note that he suffers from an obvious skin condition that affects his neck and scalp, and requires treatment with coal tar lotion.” She stopped pacing to smile at Lestrade and waited while he hurriedly took down notes.
“You gathered all this from the old, worn scarf?” Lestrade asked incredulously.
“There is more,” Joanna continued on. “Your vandal is tall and thin, with a height that may well reach six feet.”
Lestrade jerked his head up abruptly. “Really, madam! You must certainly be joking.”
“I never joke about clues,” Joanna replied. “You know my methods. I do not simply see, but observe, and all the information that I have just given you is based entirely on findings within or on the scarf. Shall I elucidate?”
“Please do so.”
“The scarf is made of Harris tweed, an expensive, fine weave, so we can reason the vandal was once a man of some means. Yet he continues to wear this worn, tattered garment which indicates he has fallen on hard times. I can deduce he is neat and tidy because he carefully and evenly cuts off any dangling threads, with scissors I suspect, thus attempting to remove evidence that the garment is old and threadbare. It is obvious he suffers from a chronic skin condition, for there is the distinct odor of coal tar, which is a remedy for a number of skin ailments involving the neck and scalp. Since the smell is so strong on
