Taking another deep breath, he moved back and used his forearm to wipe the beads of perspiration from his brow. We had been forewarned by Rowe that the removal of the del Verrocchio’s canvas to reveal whatever lay beneath it was by far the most dangerous aspect of the procedure. One wrong move could damage or even ruin the del Verrocchio as well as the masterpiece it covered. Of course we would all be responsible should such a tragic event occur, but the majority of the blame would fall on Delvecchio’s shoulders.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Delvecchio began to peel back the top of the canvas. At first, we saw only a gray background, but then dark hair with a gentle part in it appeared.
“It is a da Vinci,” Delvecchio said breathlessly. “The technique is his. He used metalpoint which involved drawing with a silver stylus and always with iron gall ink.”
“Do you know what it is?” Lady Katherine asked anxiously.
“I think … I think…” It was as if Delvecchio couldn’t find the words. Swallowing audibly, he returned to the task of gently and meticulously stripping away the del Verrocchio canvas.
Now we could see the broad forehead and dangling dark hair. Then came the beautiful eyes and the perfectly proportioned nose, and finally we saw the captivating, enigmatic smile.
It was an enchanting portrait of the woman who would later serve as the model for Leonardo da Vinci’s most famous work of art.
It was the original Mona Lisa.
28All the Evidence
After the unveiling, the ever-resourceful Countess of Wessex arranged for the National Gallery’s cafeteria to be opened in the early morning hours and for deliciously brewed Earl Grey tea to be served all around. No one was anxious to leave, for the da Vinci masterpiece continued to captivate and mesmerize every one of us. Moreover, there were tantalizing questions remaining, which would only be answered by Joanna.
“What was your first inkling that revealed Simon Hawke was so deeply involved?” asked Lestrade.
“The bricks,” Joanna said simply. “Were you not impressed by the high brick wall in the restoration area that nearly reached the ceiling? Was such a wall truly needed, only to enclose a central heating unit? And why were all the fireplaces bricked off?”
“To prevent heat loss,” Lestrade replied.
“Pshaw! Here is a man deeply in debt, yet he spends money unnecessarily to block off fireplaces and builds an unneeded, high brick wall. The prevention of heat loss could have easily been accomplished by sealing off the chimney which was no longer in use. These measures were put in place to conceal something, not to keep in the heat.”
“That something being the corpse of James Blackstone,” my father added. “It was a convenient way to dispose of the body.”
“Yes, but at the time we had no clues to tell us what was hidden behind those bricks,” Joanna went on. “It was later we learned of Delvecchio’s usually quiet dog barking and frantically pawing at the bricked-in fireplace. You see, dogs are greatly attracted to the scent of a carcass which was so powerful it eventually seeped through the bricks, as evidenced by the temporary foul odor in the restoration room.”
“Which was attributed to a bird or squirrel that had become trapped and died in the chimney,” Lestrade recalled.
“A convenient excuse, but no small carcass would ever generate a stench so lasting and intense that it required a fireplace be sealed off,” Joanna countered. “That of course indicated we were dealing with a much larger carcass, such as a human corpse. Which brings us to how the corpse found its way into the fireplace.”
“Why, it was stuffed in,” said I.
“By whom?” asked Joanna.
“Harry Edmunds and David Hughes.”
“A two-man effort, then?”
“I would think, although I know you favor a third individual being involved.”
“You should as well, when you factor in we are dealing with a relatively small fireplace and a large, well-built corpse that measured nearly six feet.”
Lestrade interjected, “The opening of the fireplace was just over three feet according to the crime report.”
I gave the circumstances more thought and concluded, “It would have been a most difficult task for only two men to do the deed.”
“If not impossible,” said Joanna. “It requires three to properly stuff the corpse not only in, but up a small fireplace—one to guide in the head and shoulders, a second to support the heavy torso, and a third to hold the thick legs up and push forward. Now, who would that third person be?”
“Simon Hawke,” I replied.
“Yes, Simon Hawke,” Joanna repeated, with a firm nod. “And all this sordid activity, including the torturing of James Blackstone, was taking place in his art gallery, to which he held the only key, and yet he pretended to be unaware.”
“He had to be aware,” my father agreed.
“There were other clues as well to show he was deeply involved,” Joanna continued on. “Recall that Hawke knew of Edmunds’s skin condition, but we had to literally pry the information from him, for he did not want us to learn that Edmunds was responsible for the vandalism. Then there was the file box on his desk which contained all the restorations done at Hawke and Evans over the past year. He didn’t seem to mind in the least for us to study the records, but attempted to prevent Delvecchio from doing so.”
“He was frightened I might see the connections to the masterpiece,” Delvecchio chimed in.
“Esattamente.” Joanna used the Italian word for exactly. “And of course we gave Harry Edmunds too much credit for being so clever. He was impressively clever because he had Simon Hawke guiding him every step of the way. Hawke knew many facets of the ongoing investigation and could alert Edmunds to possible risks and dangers. And the final clue was Simon Hawke waiting in his carriage behind the National Gallery in the dark of night for Harry Edmunds to
