The Monuments Men Murders (The Art of Murder 4)

Art and artifacts looted by the Nazis were especially problematic given that the documentation needed to prove provenance was often, understandably, missing. Even when it wasn’t hard to prove legal ownership, museum curators had a way of fighting tooth and nail to keep valuable and popular exhibitions right where they were.

He sympathized a little. These were institutions dedicated to protecting and preserving art for the public. Most of the looted art was from private collections—the antithesis of a museum or gallery’s mission.

In fairness, some of the reluctance to hand priceless antiquities back to their countries of origin had to do with unstable and dangerous political situations. The fate of museum collections and archeological sites in Egypt, Iraq, and Libya were all depressing cases in point.

It was almost certain that Roy Thompson’s heirs were going to come up with some variation on that theme to explain their uncle’s theft. Private collectors were always much, much worse about returning stolen items, and by now he had heard every excuse under the sun, including I didn’t think anyone would miss it.

Seventy-something years later, over half of the hundreds of thousands of stolen pieces of art and objects recovered from the Nazis remained unaccounted for. Horrifyingly, much of those priceless works and personal treasures had gone missing during the allied occupation—much of it into personal collections.

“Whatever.” J.J. tossed the rental car keys absently. “If you don’t want media attention, you ought to stop saying the word treasure.”

Good point.

Jason swallowed a final mouthful of coffee, dropped a couple of bills on the table, and followed J.J. out.

* * * * *

Quilletta McCoy was not what Jason had expected.

True, he hadn’t formed an opinion on what to expect, but it had not been this apologetic and red-cheeked church lady. Quilletta looked a little like a middle-aged, suburban Snow White. The early Disney version with the black bob and long-lashed doe eyes. She even had that same cute little squeaky voice.

The meeting, which took place in the cushy, leather-lined law offices of Corliss, Flook & Doggett, was attended by Quilletta, her brother, Bert—who looked like he was attending under pain of firing squad—and Dave Corliss, Quilletta’s “lawyer and family friend.”

“It was our understanding the statute of limitations had run out,” Quilletta explained in tones as soft and sweet as confectioner’s sugar. “That’s what the man at Christie’s told us.”

“What man?” Jason questioned.

“That is a lie,” de Haan broke in—which, of course, resulted in Corliss’s protest.

“My client is making every effort to cooperate with the government and the Aaldenberg van Apeldoorn Museum. I’m not going to sit here and have her insulted.”

“No insult is intended,” Jason said, giving de Haan his most discouraging look. “We’re simply gathering the facts of the case.”

De Haan glowered but pressed his lips tightly closed.

Quilletta had turned even pinker at de Haan’s outburst. She said to Jason, “I don’t remember which man. We—” She glanced at her brother, who had not said a word beyond a gruff hello to Jason and J.J. “I spoke to several people at the auction house. They communicated that they would have liked to handle the altar piece and the paintings, but their organization had come under criticism for selling a painting that once belonged to Hermann Göring himself.” Her dark eyes were wide with astonished memory.

“The Sisley,” Jason agreed.

The 2018 sale of Premier jour de printemps à Moret to a Swiss art dealer was still a scandal in the art world. Christie’s claimed every reasonable attempt had been made to check the painting’s provenance, but with an entire department dedicated to researching looted art, it was a little hard to believe the ownership gaps in the Sisley’s history hadn’t raised red flags.

Nor was it the first time Christie’s had been embroiled in a legal battle over looted art. So it was not impossible that someone at the auction house had communicated regret to Quilletta.

The part about the statute of limitations was harder to believe—Christie’s was well informed on that topic. But maybe Quilletta had misunderstood something said to her.

“There isn’t a universal statute of limitations regarding art stolen by the Nazis,” Jason said. ?

?The law is complicated, but under the 1998 Washington Conference, the US and the Netherlands, along with about fifty other countries, committed to ‘fair and just solutions’ for the return of Nazi looted art. But that’s beside the point because in 2016, the Ninth Circuit essentially ruled in a similar case that Dutch law applied, and Dutch law typically favors the claims of Dutch museums.”

Corliss said, “That doesn’t mean our lawsuit would have the same outcome.”

“No. Not necessarily. But these items are not under any statute of limitations, which is my point.”

“My uncle was not a thief,” Quilletta said. Her voice wobbled, and tears filled her eyes. “He was given these items by his commanding officer so that they could be protected. It was a very dangerous situation. For the art as well as the soldiers.”

Jason repeated, “He was given these items?”

“Yes.”