A Darkness More Than Night

half foot to the side and bent down to look at the print. It was in three panels, the largest being the centerpiece. Again it was a ramble. Dozens and dozens of figures spread across the panels. Scenes of debauchery and torture.
    “Do you recognize it?” Fitzgerald said.
    “I don’t think so. But it’s Bosch, right?”
    “His signature piece. The triptych called The Garden of Earthly Delights. It’s in the Prado in Madrid. I once stood in front of it for four hours. It wasn’t enough time to take it all in. Would you like some coffee or some water or anything, Mr. McCaleb?”
    “No, I’m fine. Thank you. You can call me Terry if you want.”
    “And you can call me Nep.”
    McCaleb put a quizzical look on his face.
    “Childhood nickname.”
    He nodded.
    “Now,” she said. “In these books I can show you every piece of Bosch’s identified work. Is it an important investigation?”
    McCaleb nodded.
    “I think so. It’s a homicide.”
    “And you are some kind of consultant?”
    “I used to work for the FBI here in L.A. The sheriff’s detective assigned to the case asked me to look at it and see what I think. It led me here. To Bosch. I am sorry but I can’t get into the details of the case and I know that will probably be frustrating to you. I want to ask questions but I can’t really answer any from you.”
    “Darn.” She smiled. “It sounds really interesting.”
    “Tell you what, if there is ever a point I can tell you about it, I will.”
    “Fair enough.”
    McCaleb nodded.
    “From what Dr. Vosskuhler said, I take it that there isn’t a lot known about the man behind the paintings.”
    Fitzgerald nodded.
    “Hieronymus Bosch is certainly considered an enigma and he probably always will be.”
    McCaleb unfolded his notepaper on the table in front of him and started taking notes as she spoke.
    “He had one of the most unconventional imaginations of his time. Or any time for that matter. His work is quite extraordinary and still subject these five centuries later to restudy and reinterpretation. However, I think you will find that the majority of the critical analysis to date holds that he was a doomsayer. His work is informed with the portents of doom and hellfire, of warnings of the wages of sin. To put it more succinctly, his paintings primarily carried variations on the same theme: that the folly of humankind leads us all to hell as our ultimate destiny.”
    McCaleb was writing quickly, trying to keep up. He wished he had brought a tape recorder.
    “Nice guy, huh?” Fitzgerald said.
    “Sounds like it.” He nodded to the print of the triptych. “Must’ve been fun on a Saturday night.”
    She smiled.
    “Exactly what I thought when I was in the Prado.”
    “Any redeeming qualities? He took in orphans, was nice to dogs, changed flat tires for old ladies, anything?”
    “You have to remember his time and place to fully understand what he was doing with his art. While his work is punctuated with violent scenes and depictions of torture and anguish, this was a time when those sorts of things were not unusual. He lived in a violent time; his work clearly reflects that. The paintings also reflect the medieval belief in the existence of demons everywhere. Evil lurks in all of the paintings.”
    “The owl?”
    She stared blankly at him for a moment.
    “Yes, the owl is one symbol he used. I thought you said you were unfamiliar with his work.”
    “I am unfamiliar with it. It was an owl that brought me here. But I shouldn’t go into that and I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Please go on.”
    “I was just going to add that it is telling when you consider that Bosch was a contemporary of Leonardo, Michelangelo and Raphael. Yet if you were to look at their works side by side you would have to believe Bosch – with all the medieval symbols and doom – was a century behind.”
    “But he wasn’t.”
    She shook her head as though she felt sorry for Bosch.
    “He and Leonardo da Vinci were born within a year or two of each other. By the end of the fifteenth century, da Vinci was creating pieces that were full of hope and celebration of human values and spirituality while Bosch was all gloom and doom.”
    “That makes you feel sad, doesn’t it?”
    She put her hands on the top book in the stack but didn’t open it. It was simply labeled BOSCH on the spine and there was no illustration on the black leather binding.
    “I can’t help but think about what could have been if Bosch had