Chapter 35

The friends were in high spirits as they raced south along the Autoroute. Around Aix-Les-Bains they passed through a number of tunnels along Lac Le Bourget. Bruce insisted that Jean blast his horn for the whole length of the tunnel.

Each time, the men roared with laughter, much to the chagrin of their associate, Ron. They stopped in Grenoble for a hasty lunch. Picasso would be there whenever they arrived, especially since Francoise was so close to giving birth to her first child.

Spending the Evening in Avignon

They spent the evening in Avignon, eating among the street noises and the venders on the Place d'Horloge. They passed the night at Villeneuve-les Avignon at the newly built Hostellerie le Prieur. This intimate and pastoral 14th century priory was set in a five acre park.
Bruce admired the pool after breakfast on the terrace but 6AM was a bit early for a swim. Besides, they wanted to see Picasso and finally uncover the mystery of the Stein portrait.

Jean remembered that Picasso saw no one before noon so they drove along the coastal road and admired the pleasant French countryside. They drove through St. Tropez, St. Raphael and Frejus on their way to Cannes. Here, they skirted the harbor admiring the million dollar yachts.

"What a waste," Bruce suggested.
"Perhaps," Jean replied, "but some people made a lot of money during the war."

"Its still a waste. There's an expression about sailors. The happiest two days in a sailor's life is the day he buys his boat and the day he sells it. No. I get my thrills on dry land."

Picasso Stands at the Open Gate

About 2:30 they arrived at Picasso's driveway. Picasso himself stood at the open gate. He wore sandals and shorts, tied at the waist with an old rope. He wore a bowler hat and a false nose.

Just like Picasso, Jean thought. He's always the clown. Perhaps it was a sign that he was in a better mood than when they last met.

"Ahh, Jean d'Aiguy, my friend. I thought I had frightened you off. But no. You return with a friend. I have a pink Buick, a gift from America. When I drive around, people think I'm Garry Cooper. Actually, I think I look like President Lincoln."

"Pablo, may I present my friend Bruce Kellner. He is from America."
"Good," said Picasso, extending his smoke stained hand. "Do you think I look like your President Lincoln?"

Picasso Wants to See America

Picasso continued. "I like America, especially the magazines and movie stars. I will go there one day."

They shook hands.

"Come in, my friends. Let me show you some pieces of pottery I just fired. I do pottery to escape the blank canvass. I derive energy from the other potters. I recharge myself. I need a new medium of expression, not for decoration but for something to transform. I may never paint again."

"But…," Bruce started.

Picasso interrupted. He held up a piece of pottery. "This vase became an owl, a woman, a goddess. It evokes ancient idols."
"You are very versatile." Bruce admired the work.
"But this is a medium for bourgeois Frenchmen. Americans, too. Pottery is easy to copy. Not like art. Soon there will be pieces like this in all houses. But this piece is original. This is art, and I will not part with it."

The Two Paintings Are Brought in to Picasso

The conversation led to preservation of art and appreciation of the new ideas that were prevalent just then. After a while, Bruce asked Ron to bring in the two paintings.
"Monsieur Picasso." He started. "I know Jean brought you a copy of Gertrude Stein's portrait."
"Picasso's portrait of Gertrude," he corrected.

"Yes," Bruce continued. "And I know you recognized it as a copy. But we have the original; the one with the red x. The people in New York are cautious and confused. They want you to look at it again. They have entrusted to me the task of getting you to authenticate it."

Picasso jumped up. "But I will not sign it or sign any paper. If I say it is the original, you must accept that as fact." He was frowning.
Bruce reached for the two paintings. "I'll accept your word only. Is that fair?"

Pablo nodded. Bruce unwrapped what he knew to be the copy. He placed it against the wall. Pablo went over and looked at it closely.
"Yes," he said emphatically. "This is the copy Jean brought a few days ago." He stood in front of the work and nodded. "Yes, this is what I saw before."

While he did this, Bruce unwrapped the second package and put the framed picture next to the first. Picasso looked at it closely. He lifted it up and looked at the back. He placed it in better light and studied it for a long time.

Trying to Fool Pablo?

"Madro, mio," he whispered. "We have another copy. You are trying to fool Pablo. Are you not?"

"I don't understand," Picasso stated. "What do you see?"

Picasso looked at the two men. He had turned pale. He shook his head and sat heavily in an armchair. "My friends," he announced, "Pablo Picasso did neither of these paintings. They are both copies."

"Wha…" Bruce was dumfounded. "But the second one is the one that came from Alice's apartment. It was the one signed for as authentic by Maitre Beaude, the lawyer. You were there."

Was the Painting Switched?

Jean was in a state of shock. Even Ron's eyes were wide.
Picasso turned to Bruce. "Monsieur. We have a serious problem. Was this the painting I saw wrapped in Paris at Alice's or was it switched since then?"

Bruce groped for time to think. "Did you say you saw it already wrapped?"
"Yes. It was ready for shipment with stickers all over it. I assumed…I mean I had known they had a painting on rue Christine. It was already in the package…"
Bruce jumped in. "Then you saw the package, not the actual painting."
Picasso frowned. " Maybe it had already been switched, or there were…"

"Two copies!" Jean exclaimed.
Bruce was deeply perturbed. "But what could have happened to the original?"

Picasso looked at the detective. "That, my friend, is your job to discover."

To read the next chapter, click here.