‘Wanting to take advantage of his unusual skill and sorry financial state, art sharks began commissioning him to make copies of famous paintings, which they then sold to gullible, wannabe art collectors for a huge profit.
‘Philipose himself is said to have received little for his efforts, but it at least provided a steady income that enabled him to put by some savings. It is unclear if Philipose knew that his copies were being passed off as originals.
‘One of the men I spoke to believes that Philipose might have begun suspecting this in his later years. Rather than risk the wrath of dangerous men by refusing to work for them, he may have decided to disappear quietly. He seems to have been caught in an unenviable situation. If he continued to work for the art sharks, knowing that his copies were being sold as originals, he would become an accessory to their crimes. On the other hand, if he refused to work for them, they might have killed him.
‘And so, in the year preceding his disappearance, he had apparently worked day and night to earn extra money. Once he had accumulated enough to leave Austria, he vanished.’
‘Were there any significant art thefts around the time Philipose disappeared?’ Athreya asked.
‘That thought occurred to me too, and I checked. No significant thefts took place, and absolutely none in the cities around where he lived.
‘When did he disappear?’
‘2012.’
‘That fits. Phillip came to the valley in 2012. Do me another favour, will you? Can you make a list of art-related crimes that happened around Vienna in 1994 and 1995? Thefts, deaths, anything significant, even if it is not a crime.’
Chapter 13
When he returned to Greybrooke Manor, Athreya found a buzz of activity around the chapel. A police wagon and a clutch of policemen had arrived in his absence. While the wagon waited in the driveway for the body, a forensics team was busy at the chapel collecting physical evidence. Relentless in his pursuit, Inspector Muthu had ordered a man to collect the fingerprints of all the people at Greybrooke Manor–residents, guests and staff.
‘Where have you been?’ he asked Athreya on his return. ‘We need to take your fingerprints.’
‘At the Misty Valley Resort,’ Athreya replied. ‘I’ve just discovered that the victim’s housekeeper cleaned his house earlier today. Whatever evidence–’
Athreya broke off as Muthu let loose a colourful curse. He summoned two policemen and sent them to Phillip’s house with instructions to prevent anyone from entering it. He also sent orders that nobody should leave the Misty Valley Resort.
He then hailed the fingerprinting man and told him to take Athreya’s prints. On seeing Athreya, the man threw him a salute, flummoxing Muthu in the bargain.
‘You want to take his prints?’ the fingerprinting man asked in surprise. ‘He is one of us. He’s the one who solved the Ooty double-murder case.’
‘Eh?’ Muthu stuttered. ‘Eh?’
‘It’s all right, my friend,’ Athreya cut in. ‘You have to take the prints of all the people who were here during the murder. How else will you identify all the prints you find? My prints are already there on the chapel door and on one of the windows.’
‘But, sir–’ the man protested, only to be cut off by Athreya again.
‘Do as the inspector says. Also take the prints of the dead man and everyone else who was here. Do you have a complete list?’
‘I have a list of all the residents, guests and staff.’
‘Add two more names to the list: Mr Murthy, who is staying at the Misty Valley Resort, and Father Tobias. You may want to check up on some of the others staying at the resort too.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I hope someone is dusting the chapel for prints? Make sure they pay close attention to the wheelchair and the altar. We need to dust every square inch of the wheelchair and identify every print on it, full or partial, clear or smudged.’
‘Leave it to me, sir. If you’ll come with me for a moment, I’ll take your prints.’
‘Oh, Inspector Muthu,’ Athreya said as he turned to go with the fingerprinting man, ‘I need to go out for an hour or so. I will report to you as soon as I return.’
Leaving a baffled Muthu behind, they went into the mansion. Fifteen minutes later, Athreya was being driven by Dora to Father Tobias’s church. They found the cleric fussing over his altar and preparing it for the next morning’s service.
‘Ah!’ he said as he straightened up and peered myopically at the newcomers. ‘Hello, Dora. Welcome, sir.’ He didn’t seem to recognize Athreya.
‘We met last night at Greybrooke Manor,’ Athreya reminded him.
‘Yes, of course. Mr Athreya, isn’t it? Welcome, sir.’ After greeting the priest, Dora had gone straight to the altar, before which she knelt and offered silent prayers. Watching her, Father Tobias seemed to sense that something was amiss.
‘What is it?’ he asked Athreya softly. ‘Something is troubling the child.’
‘Mr. Phillip has been killed,’ Athreya replied. ‘In the chapel.’
Father Tobias blinked and stared at Athreya. He remained silent for a long moment and then nodded slowly.
‘He died under Christ’s eyes,’ he mumbled, referring to the mural in the chapel. ‘He is blessed. Excuse me.’
He went to the altar, where he knelt and removed his glasses. He closed his eyes, bowed his head and concentrated hard on a long silent prayer. Only his lips moved. Minutes passed, during which Dora completed her prayer and rose. As they watched Father Tobias silently, a solitary tear dropped from his eye to the ground. With that, he rose and wore his glasses again.
‘A prayer for Phillip’s soul,’ he explained softly. ‘The best prayer is one that comes from the heart and brings tears. The pain that Phillip must have suffered before his death deserved
