“The very same,” she said.
“Then you must use all of your talents to catch this persona pazzi before he does more damage.”
“Why do you believe this person to be crazy?” asked Joanna who was fluent in German, and knew bits and pieces of Italian. “Have you experienced this sort of vandalism before?”
“It occurs in Italy as well,” Delvecchio replied. “But it is usually done with paint or lipstick, and never by slashing. This is someone who truly hates works of art and wishes they no longer be seen by anyone.”
“Or perhaps he hates only women,” I ventured.
“That is true so far, but who is to know what this madman will do in the future?” Delvecchio moved over to the damaged painting that now showed only half of a woman’s face. “As you can see cutting is not enough for this idiot. He has to tear the canvas apart for good measure.”
“Can it be repaired?” Joanna inquired.
Delvecchio gave the painting a long, studied look before saying, “It will take a great amount of time, for the work has been retouched on multiple occasions. Thus, not much of the original remains.”
That detail seemed to pique Joanna’s interest. “Would the vandal know that it had been retouched over and over, thereby debasing and bastardizing its intrinsic value?”
“That would be most unlikely, madam, for one cannot detect new restorations to the work by eyesight alone.” Delvecchio switched off the lights and caused the room to darken. Next he reached for a handheld ultraviolet lamp and shined its light on the half of the painting that remained intact. “You will note that there are many areas of black blotches which indicate retouching. From my earlier studies, I estimated that over seventy-five percent of the painting had new colors applied at one time or another.”
“Yet Hawke and Evans still purchased it, so the painting must have retained its value,” Joanna noted.
“Oh no, madam, this painting belongs to the Crown and we have been commissioned to do the restoration,” Delvecchio explained.
Joanna’s eyes narrowed noticeably. “To the best of your knowledge how many other vandalized paintings were ever the property of the Crown?”
“Only the one at the home of the Earl of Wessex,” Delvecchio replied. “It was given to the earl as a gift, so I was told.”
Joanna sighed briefly, signaling her disappointment at the failure to make connection between the vandal and the royal family. She glanced around at the large number of paintings waiting to be attended to by Delvecchio. “You have a considerable backlog of work ahead of you.”
“It will require months and months to clear this lot, madam, for I am the only restorer on the premises.” Delvecchio gestured to several damaged paintings on the nearby wall. “In addition, I must attempt to restore the slashed portraits from the other art galleries. These very same works were retouched here only months ago, but now the restorations will be much more difficult.”
Joanna’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “Were all the defaced portraits at the other galleries previously retouched at Hawke and Evans?”
“So it would seem, madam,” Delvecchio replied, giving the vandalized works of art a final look. “I am afraid Mr. Hawke will eventually have to bring in more restorers to assist me.”
“There is currently a great demand for skilled restorers in the art world, for they are in such short supply,” Hawke interjected. “We were most fortunate to obtain the services of Mr. Delvecchio.”
“But surely there were restorers here at Hawke and Evans before Mr. Delvecchio,” Joanna remarked. “For an art gallery of this caliber, I would have assumed you had arranged for a transition that brought in new hires as the older ones departed.”
“But sadly that was not the case, for the sudden departure of our former restoration experts was totally unexpected,” Hawke said, then went on to describe the tale in detail.
It was indeed a most sad story as yet another criminal activity had engulfed Hawke and Evans a year earlier. The gallery’s two premier restorers, one named Harry Edmunds, the other James Blackstone, had secretly used their unique skills to produce spot-on forgeries that were sold on the London black market. Copies of Renoirs and Manets were done so wonderfully well that they commanded fees of a hundred pounds or more, and were purchased the moment they appeared on the market. Some of the very best forgeries began to be shown in the homes of aristocrats, while others found their way to auction houses, where experts were called in to authenticate the paintings. They quickly determined that the works were forgeries when they discovered undeniable evidence of recent production, as well as flaws in the pigments used. Furthermore, the experts knew the locations of the original paintings, which were being held in museums and private collections outside of London.
Hawke concluded by turning to Inspector Lestrade, saying, “Scotland Yard was called in and the good inspector here devised a splendid trap on the black market for the forgers and it worked to perfection. Harry Edmunds is now residing in Wormwood Scrubs where he will spend the next five years of his life. His compatriot, James Blackstone, was never apprehended, although he was clearly implicated. Some believe he fled to Australia, for there was evidence indicating he had done so.”
“Were his bank accounts looked into?” Joanna asked.
“It was our first order of business,” Lestrade joined in. “James Blackstone had deposits of over a thousand pounds at both Lloyds and the Bank of England, which were princely sums for a man with a yearly income of less than a hundred pounds. We have kept a close eye on these accounts, and there has not been a single attempt to withdraw or transfer any of those funds. This is quite strange for a man who has disappeared and remains so, and who can never be employed again with
