Death by Haunting Read Online Free PDF Page A

Gardner Museum in Boston. It’s one of the most famous art thefts in the world.”
    I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. It’s never been recovered. If I remember correctly, twelve other works were stolen as well. Is there a specific reason that you have a copy of it?”
    “Then you don’t know?”
    “Know what?”
    “We used to live in Boston and Terry was a guard at the Gardner Museum. Terry was there the night the museum was robbed.”

8
    Y ou could have bowled me over with a feather. Eunice’s errands were going to have to wait.
    “That’s astounding. Might I have something to drink, please? If you’ve got time, I’d like to hear all about it,” I babbled.
    “I thought you were in a hurry.”
    “I’ll tell Eunice I had car trouble . . . or something to that effect. You must tell me about Terry. I had no idea.”
    “He didn’t like to talk about it,” said Mavis, going into the kitchen. “I have Coke or water. I can make coffee if you like.”
    “Coke would be fine.” I had to wait patiently as Mavis pulled one of her good glasses from the cupboard, put ice in it and then opened the Coke, slowly pouring it into the glass, taking her time to let the fizzle die down before pouring more Coke. Satisfied, she handed the glass to me and we went to sit in the living room.
    I politely took a sip while waiting for Mavis to spill the beans.
    She took a long breath and began a story that had seldom slipped through her lips. “We lived in Boston.”
    I nodded in concurrence.
    “Terry was a guard at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. He liked working there. The staff was nice and Terry had a fondness for the art. One of his favorite paintings was the Landscape with Obelisk.
    “One day, his supervisor asked him if he would work the night shift as one of the night guards had called in sick. Terry said he would, as we needed the extra money. That was March 18, 1990.”
    “What happened?” I asked breathlessly.
    “He came home at his usual time, took a two-hour nap and then went back for the night shift. Everything was normal until two Boston cops showed up saying they were responding to a call. Terry was making his rounds so the guard at the front desk thought that maybe Terry had made the call and let the cops through the security door.
    “But once the policemen got inside, all hell broke loose. They pulled out their guns and ordered the front door guard away from the desk where the panic button was, saying they had a warrant for his arrest. They handcuffed him and then made him summon Terry.
    “Once Terry came up front, they overpowered him and handcuffed him too. Then the thieves took them both down to the basement where they duct-taped their hands and feet to pipes.
    “They weren’t found until the next morning. It was a miracle that they weren’t killed, but Terry felt terribly guilty about the robbery. Of course, the police thought Terry and the other guard helped to execute the theft and gave Terry an awful time about it.
    “We had to hire a lawyer. Finally the FBI concluded that he and the other guard had nothing to do with it, but we had already spent much of our savings on legal fees. Terry was so disgusted that we left Boston for good and decided to move where my people still lived. We came back to my mother’s place until we could get back on our feet.”
    “How many paintings were stolen?”
    “It was a collector’s theft. Only specific items were taken from two floors. Five drawings by Degas, a finial for a pole support for a Napoleonic flag, a Chinese vase, a self-portrait of Rembrandt and several other paintings.”
    “I can see why it is thought that a collector commissioned the robbery. The articles are so specific. Wood to porcelain, etchings to paintings. There doesn’t seem to be a theme.”
    “And more expensive paintings were left behind.”
    “Some of the stolen items were not as well known,” I said.
    “Yes, Govaert Flinck is not an artist that most people would