Read Wanted: A Leopold Blake Thriller for Free Online Page A

black hair and green eyes. She was dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans and a printed tee shirt, and wore a look of impatience on her otherwise attractive face.
    “Mlle. Bardot?” offered Leopold. “May we come inside?”
    Nodding, Sophie waved them both inside and shut the door. Her apartment was outfitted in typical Parisian style, most of the furniture looked as though it had been reclaimed from junk yards and garage sales. The living area was small, just about big enough for a couch and armchair, with a bookshelf containing a few scattered titles and a kitchenette separated from the main room by an archway. An open window facing out onto the city took up most of the back wall, framed by a set of thin curtains that billowed gently in the breeze. Thanks to the elevation, the view over Paris was spectacular.
    “Please, take a seat,” said Sophie. “Let me fetch you something to drink.”
    “That would be perfect.”
    Their hostess smiled, all traces of irritation gone. She fetched a large jug of pale lemonade from the fridge and nestled it on the tiny coffee table along with three glasses. She poured out three generous measures before helping herself, settling back into the armchair. Leopold took a sip. The flavors were magnificent, with just enough sugar to take the edge off without being too sweet.
    “Thank you, it’s delicious,” he said, raising his glass. “Do you mind if we begin the interview?”
    “Of course. Ask your questions.”
    “Okay, first of all, tell me about your role at the museum. What is it that an art restorer does, exactly?”
    Sophie sat up in her chair, taking a long sip of lemonade. “Most of the paintings in the Renaissance galleries are exposed to the atmosphere. It is only for a very select few pieces, such as the Mona Lisa, that we go to the expense of sealing them in an airtight UV-filtered case. Because of this, most of the artwork will begin to deteriorate over time as the moisture and sunlight gets into the paint. My job at the gallery is to clean and restore the paintings, as well as to preserve and protect them for the future.”
    “And which paintings are sent to you?”
    “Each of the oil paintings in the renaissance galleries is cleaned and restored on a rotating schedule, depending on the requirements of the piece in question. It can often take weeks to carry out the work required, especially if the painting is damaged, so I find myself busy most of the time. The smaller paintings can be restored by just one person, usually me, but the larger more valuable ones often require a team of experts.”
    “And what work needs doing when you get these paintings through?”
    “The usual problems are surface dirt, discoloration and cracked paint. Though, occasionally, the damage can be more severe on the older and more fragile works. It’s nothing I can’t handle, though.”
    “And so modest, too,” said Leopold, smiling.
    “ Monsieur Blake,” she replied, leaning forward in her chair, “I have spent over a decade learning the styles of the Old Masters. I doubt there is anyone who has an eye for detail quite like mine.”
    Leopold sipped his lemonade and set the glass down on the coffee table. “Are you aware of the recent theft from the museum, Mlle. Bardot?”
    “There hasn’t been a theft from the museum in decades. Where are you getting your information?”
    “I have my sources. ‘The Virgin and Child with St Anne’ is missing. In its place, a reproduction.” Leopold pulled out his cell phone and held up a picture of the painting. “The colors are all wrong. Since the last restoration, the palette is much brighter. Do you know who could have pulled something like this off?”
    “ C’est impossible! This is a joke, non? ”
    “I’m afraid not, Mlle. Bardot. Please, can you offer any insight?”
    She took the cell phone from Leopold and held it up to her face. “This is not the true work of Da Vinci,” she deferred, zooming in on the image. “Even on