Echoes of a Violin

Chapter 12: The Church of Saint Roch

Neal breathed easier when he received Mozzie's invitation to meet him for lunch.

André had forgiven him. If he could make things right with Mozzie, he would be able to move forward. Retrieving the painting would prove he hadn't lost his touch, even if he chose not to use those skills anymore.

Mozzie had selected a café far enough away from the police headquarters that Neal didn't have to worry about being spotted. The interior was a dark cave compared with the brilliant sunshine outside. Neal had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he spotted his friend sitting in the back. Mozzie had returned to being a man of the shadows and this was a reminder Neal should too, if only for a short while.

Mozzie had already ordered a bottle of wine. He poured Neal a glass when he sat down. "I've adjusted my sails," he said airily. "We'll speak of it no more."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Neal wanted to say more but was interrupted by a waiter bringing them their menus. That may have been for the best. It was time to stop dwelling on the past. Over sole meunière, Neal mentioned he'd met Gordon Taylor.

Mozzie's eyes shone in the obscurity of the café. "You should have told me earlier. I would have selected a five-star restaurant."

"Don't read too much into it. I haven't accepted a job and it wasn't intentional." Neal explained the circumstances.

"Still, the three of you—having drinks, getting acquainted. I predict great things coming from this. Did Gordon invite you to play pool?"

"He did."

Mozzie snapped his fingers. "I knew it! When will you meet?"

"Perhaps on a future trip to Paris. I'm keeping my options open as you suggested." Having Gordon Taylor as a friend was something that would be just as useful for the FBI and Interpol as it would for the old Neal Caffrey, but he had no intention of bringing that subject up with Mozzie. His own feelings were ambivalent. He admired Gordon too much to take him down and hoped it would never become an issue.

Mozzie passed him a key and receipt. "I placed your gear in the storage locker north of Les Halles as you asked. Isn't it about time you tell me where the painting is?"

"Are you familiar with the Church of Saint Roch?"

"The baroque church near the Tuileries?"

"That's the one."

Mozzie considered for a moment. "It has a famous history. Who chose it?"

"Klaus. He said Saint Roch was a fitting choice for us. He was the patron saint of the falsely accused."

"Did Klaus know that Henry's father blackmailed you to leave the States?"

"No, I never told him anything about Henry or any other members of my family. Klaus asserted that art thieves were misunderstood by the public. He claimed that we were kindred spirits with artists."

"An interesting hypothesis. Museums reap profits off long-dead artists who often during their lifetimes are scorned by the purveyors of taste."

Neal nodded in agreement. "Klaus believed we were in a sense like the Scarlet Pimpernel—liberating art while thumbing our noses at the institutions holding them captive."

"A romantic view. It's no wonder you were drawn to him." Mozzie eyed him thoughtfully. "These past months couldn't have been easy ones for you. We must accept what happened and move forward. I'm familiar with that church. On an earlier trip, I went there to pay my respects to Diderot at his tomb. As one of the principal figures of the Enlightenment, he's a person I admire greatly. Undoubtedly Klaus did as well. Diderot, just like Voltaire"—He paused for a moment, his eyes widening—"Did you hide it in his tomb?"