Archive for November, 2012

We’ll Meet Again

November 22, 2012


For the past couple days Monsieur Holmes and I have been safe in Austin, following up on what few precious leads we have on the case.

We went to the G’Raj Mahal yesterday morning, and we asked the staff if they knew of a Melissa Glaser. Dieu merci, the cashier recognized her name and knew her as a loyal customer, but sadly they could not tell me where she was. As a loyal customer they only knew that the regularity of her visits was interrompu récemment; they heard vaguely that it was wedding, but of hers they could not say. We had little option, so we decided to part our ways again; Holmes would find the supplier of the staple gun, while I would wait to see if she would return to the G’Raj Mahal for a touch of café.

And indeed, dieu merci, today as I was, as you say, “on the verge” of giving up, I heard the name Melissa Glaser being called for a coffee drink called a cappucino (do not ask me what it is!). I was able to speak with her, but all too briefly; I asked if she was Melissa Glaser, and she said yes. I introduced myself and I asked her about a stolen painting and further the disappearance of Jack Vincent; upon hearing the name she seemed to grow a vehemence. She denied that she knew anything and quickly shuffled away onto the streets. Strange meeting I thought; but I noticed a useful detail. Around her finger was the mark of agitation from a recently worn ring, although there was no ring there. It makes me believe that Melissa Glaser was indeed the bride of this wedding, but that it might not be going well.

I have another matter to discuss. As a result of my cooperative venture with Monsieur Holmes, and the understanding that I will not pursue another case privately after I have ceased with Monsieur Holmes, that I should relocate my online activity to his blog, and that I should retire this site. It will not mean that I retire mon commentaire; far from it! In fact, I believe reading Holmes’ writing might just force my hand in writing even more – someone must keep that occasionally insufferable Englishman, as you say, “in check”. Beyond that, I make it easier on you. I would have him bring his commentary to my sight, but Holmes, beyond being a stiff cold man, can also be quite stubborn, so I believe it is best to volunteer. I will miss the website; it has done me a good service. Still, when the time has come to let something go for the sake of usefulness, I must let it go.

If you wish to follow me from now on (Dieu vous bénisse!) you may go to Holmes’ website, ; thank you for your wonderful devotion and I hope that it will not change.

Au revoir.

Hercule Poirot

Une Enquête Approfondie

November 18, 2012

Quelle semaine! After thorough professional analysis, the curator has been confirmed that the painting was un faux. Embarrassed, ashamed and confused, the curator and all his staff were fully cooperative with an investigation into this plot, as well as the disappearance of Jack Vincent.

Two important revelations have emerged: perhaps most essential, Information passed between the wife and the curator has confirmed that the man who showed up to the job of restoration painter was not Jack Vincent. This was the first time the museum ever used Monsieur Vincent; he was recommended to them (by this Cabal…?). As such the man who showed up claiming to be Jack Vincent they assumed to be Jack Vincent.

Further, the evening before the incident with the music the curator happened to walk in on our now unnamed restoration artist, ‘working’ with the portrait in question while it was removed from the frame. When the curator inquired why the portrait was removed from the frame, the painter informed that the detail of the portrait was such that it required he paint off frame on the edges to create the desired effect. When further asked why the painting materials weren’t out, the painter said he just finished and was about to put the painting back on the frame with its traditional weave. The curator observed the painting and noted it was sufficient for display, and wished for the painting to be framed as soon as possible, so he observed as the artist reattached the painting to the frame.

Ah, but I note, the painting we saw in the exhibit? Attached with staples! It was not the same painting that the curator saw the painter put onto the frame; the replacement took place after the painting had gone on display.

From this I posit our thief likely had to change his tactic; he used the time to create a detailed replica and he was about to replace it smoothly when the interference of the curator forced him to make the replacement in the exhibition as opposed to the studio. This music piece, perhaps prepared before as a gloating measure, was now essential. He used it to distract the guards for long enough to slice the weaves, remove the true painting and put in the replica, with only enough time to staple the forgery. These staples were matched to the staple gun the Holmes found in the gift shop; our thief likely moved into the gift shop to hide from the security, and perhaps to make his escape.

From here our information is fuzzy; but if you will remember I was attacked, knocked out and disposed of in the utility closet. Holmes has proposed a solution to this attacker that I find intriguing. He believes that our perpetrator, concerned about the integrity of the painting, had not properly prepared for its containment. But in the gift shop he noticed that there were tubes used to contain mid-sized and full-sized posters. Recognizing the usefulness, he perhaps took one of the tubes himself and placed a painting inside; but in the hazard of the moment he made a misplacement took the wrong tube! Under his false security he left, and only returned when he realized his mistake. Only when he returned, he recognized me and realized I could ruin his case. Wishing to subdue me, unwilling to eliminate me and under stress, he knocked me unconscious and placed me in the closet while he surveyed for the correct tube.

All that said, we are left with no lead for the fate of Jack Vincent, but that of the sticker for the G’Raj Majal in Austin, and this name Melissa Glaser. For this we will have to go to Austin – which we are to do, tomorrow.

Although – je dois avouer; I am curious about Holmes behavior; he has been distant and silent all day and has refused to speak to me. He just stares at the fireplace, smoking his pipe…


And So The Dance Begins…

November 12, 2012

Many of you will be pleased to know that, without intention, I ran into Monsieur Holmes at the museum today; I thought perhaps he had come to see me, but then I hear that from him that he was pleased had come to see him. It seems that not only do both our cases involve the art, but both of our cases center around the Denver Art Museum. We went to the cafe to discuss many subjects; I asked him – par la force, I might add -what had occurred to him back in New York that led me to take the train to Boston par moi-même. He recounted to me that he had an unnamed bienfaiteur of his own, not unlike mon Monsieur Administrateur, who had forbidden him to join me to Boston. He has since retained hesitations about the will of his own bienfaiteur but, since that same bienfaiteur led him to meet me, so in his mix of, I believe, a ‘benefit of doubt’ and his financial necessity, he has followed his benefactor to Denver. His explanation seemed plausible, and though I struggled to appease the original insult that I felt I was satisfied with his reply. An apology would have been met with appréciation.

He also described to me the details of his new case involving the disappearance of an artist who specialized in restoration painting, called Jack Vincent. He discovered that the man had apparently visited the museum to do his work but he was dismayed by the utter difference in the man’s behavior as described by his colleagues – far detached from the disappearance of the man’s wife. I described my own case to him, involving the piece of music that was played the prior Monday early morning.

Now, we both soon came to the conclusion that the cases were related and that perhaps our information was best shared à l’unisson. However, when it came to how we would work together, we found strong disagreement. He seemed rather unimpressed by my case (he was not the first) and felt our joint efforts were best served on his case of gravity. I angrily contested that this was not a case of gravity as such an act would have required much skill and conspiration, likely of a malevolent kind. And while I understood his own case was dire, with a soul on the line, I thought it would be best to focus on the lead of this tape and not chase a ghost where we do not know where it is! In great agitation we decided to leave our separate ways, and focus on our separate parts until – if and when – they lead us to a common case. In this spirit of, perhaps one would say, concours, I focused greatly on analyzing this tape today.

It is most strange; the song, it is complex, kinetic – frenetic, perhaps – but it appears to consist only of a male baritone vocal and piano accompaniment – perhaps it is another, perhaps the singer. He seemed to struggle at the higher parts, as if his piece was adapted for the voice of another – then again, at various points I confess there seemed to be some missing element in the background that would have completed it. Nevertheless the singer is amazingly talented.

The lyrics as well, I struggle to make out, since they are operatic, sung bombastically and not in my first language; however I have made some lyrics out.

“Serve the meal […]  maid;

Serve the master […]

tables, plans and maids […]

[…] again!

[this part slows down; I make it out better]

[…] faithful friend

once again […].

Your young guest […] –

I, the master, you, the man

When you met you wore my cloak

[…] not have seen your face

She believes she dines with me

in her master’s […]

Furtively, we’ll […]

*Stealing what, in truth is mine*

When it’s late and […] with the wine

You come home! I […] voice

Slam the door like […]

I shall say, Come hide with me

[…] Of course my room

[…] chance

Here’s my hat, my cloak and (sod?)

Conquest is assured,

If I do not forget myself (in love?)”

Here it abruptly ends. The kinetic energy of the song finds only a single interruption at the point I have marked d’un astérisque. Having heard this line with the most clarity of any line, I find it disturbing. Our perpetrator is telling us something… ominous. If only I could know what it was…

Hercule Poirot

New Case in Denver, Colorado

November 10, 2012

If I have been silent for the past several days, pardonnez-moi. I have come down with a terrible influenza that kept me, as you say, ‘bed-ridden’ for a whole week in Boston. However I am back, en bonne sante. I have since left Boston; I had a misunderstanding of Monsieur Todd; his gratitude I took for mania, and when he ‘offered me a shave’ I mistook for a mad plot against my life. Though the matter was resolved later with the psychologist, it led me to conclude that I had settled everything I could in Boston and that I had to move on. Interestingly I was given a case by mon bienfaiteur that was quite odd and perhaps trivial but nevertheless interesting; he wanted me to go to the city of Denver, to the state of Colorado, to the Denver Museum of Art, where apparently at 3:00am the morning of Monday the overhead speakers broke out in a bizarre piece of music. Though perhaps trivial, he said this case could be very serious, and I need a new case, so gladly I accepted.

Only yesterday I arrive, and I visit the Museum of Art, and I find out that all the museum staff was completely docile as to occurrence; the security had no interest in looking into it further, regarding it some foolish prank, and the curator, Mr. Andrew Cushing, was so consumed with setting up his brand new exhibit, “Anonymous: Paintings of the Unknown”, that he’s given little thought to the occurrence. Granted, he gave me access to the tape today that was playing overhead in the museum as a concession, but to hear that there was an inspector on the case seemed to him excessive and unnecessary.

I await to listen to the tape; so far I am thoroughly annoyed with the casualness I am dealing wtih.

Hercule Poirot