Amelie nodded. “As well as journals or diaries.”
“The Nazi’s confiscated a lot of famous artwork from all over Europe. Not all of it has been found and returned to the families or institutions where it belonged.”
“Armand did say that his folks packed up all their valuables and escaped into the night.” Amelie glanced toward Maurice. “Do you think they took their artwork and antiquities with them?”
Maurice shrugged. “Maybe. If they did, they might’ve sold them to pay for their passage on a ship. Or they could’ve sold them to keep a roof over their heads when they had to start over in New Orleans and then in Paris when they returned.”
“I spent enough time in Armand’s Paris apartment to know he didn’t have any artwork or antiques.” Amelie’s brow dipped further. “Other than with his work as a chef, he was very much a minimalist.”
“If his folks fled with their valuables, could those valuables still be missing?”
“Is there any way to find out what famous artwork or antiques a particular family might have owned before the beginning of WWII?”
Maurice shrugged. “I don’t know. But I know someone who might find out if Armand’s relatives owned anything of significance. We have a computer guy at Brotherhood Protectors headquarters in Montana who can scan the web for any recorded history of Armand’s family. Maybe Swede could find out if they owned anything others might want to find. It could be the German has already done his homework and knows of something they had that hasn’t resurfaced, and he’s trying to chase it down.”
“You think that’s possible?”
“If there’s any information on Armand’s family, Swede will find it.”
“What about the pocket watch?” Amelie glanced across at Maurice. “Do you think that’s one of the antiquities the German was looking for?”
“I’ll send the photo of the watch to Swede. If it’s worth anything, he’ll let us know.”
Amelie pulled out her cell phone and keyed a text message. “I’m asking Luis to snap copies of the photos he kept. The ones of his grandparents, before they had to abandon their home, were taken inside their house. Maybe there’s a painting or antique in the background that could give us an idea of what they had.”
“Good idea. That might help Swede.” Maurice followed the directions to the supply house and backed into the loading dock. As he shifted into park, Amelie’s phone chirped with an incoming message.
“Luis said he’d send the pictures when he gets back to his apartment,” Amelie said.
“What did he say about your reason for wanting them?”
Amelie grimaced. “I didn’t tell him exactly why I wanted them, other than to say I wanted copies to remember Armand by. Everything we’ve talked about is...”
“Conjecture.” Maurice nodded. “I get it. When we find out more, we can let him in on it.”
“Or, if we don’t find anything, he won’t be waiting around hoping we will and be disappointed.” Amelie drew in a breath and let it out. “Armand was always so particular about his cuisine and the presentation. I found it odd that his own home was sparse and unadorned.”
“Maybe because it wasn’t home to him,” Maurice suggested. “Not after his wife left anyway.”
Amelie nodded. “I got that feeling. The only time he seemed happy was when he was creating cuisine at the restaurant. Anywhere else, he appeared pensive, even sad. Once, we were walking along a boulevard in Paris on our way to purchase spices, when he slowed and stared at a store for so long, I asked what was wrong. He said the store used to be a bistro. It was a place he and Julia had shared stories about their lives over a cup of coffee or espresso.”
“He must’ve loved her very much,” Maurice said.
“In his way, he did.” Amelie pushed open her door. “Here comes the dock worker.”
Amelie went into full-on bakery-business-owner mode and supervised the loading of the supplies she’d ordered, going over the list, item by item, to ensure the entire order was satisfied.
While he waited, Maurice stepped away from the loading dock and called Swede.
“Swede here,” he answered on the second ring.
“Swede, Maurice Boucher, out of the Bayou branch.”
“Maurice, good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”
“I’m working with Amelie Aubert in Bayou Mambaloa.”
“I heard that you were. She had a break-in last night.”
