The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

section by section, spending the longest amount of time on the signature symbol on the bottom right-hand corner.
    When she straightened, she was smiling. “I am quite confident that this painting is the work of Heinrich Kamler. His subject matter, technique, and signature are unmistakable. If you look closely, you can see that the symbol is made of two intertwining letters, an H and a K . This is a very exciting discovery!” Her face was glowing. “And you say this was hidden in a thermos beneath a stair tread?”
    Olivia nodded. “The house is a 1930s bungalow. When my friend moved in, he had the carpet over the stairs taken out. Quite a bit of the wood covered up by the carpet had rotted, and when one of those damaged treads was removed, the thermos was revealed.” She gestured at the journal. “Who is this Heinrich Kamler?”
    Shala indicated Olivia should make herself comfortable in one of the black leather chairs. “Would you care for some coffee?”
    “No, thank you. I’ve left my dog out in the car, so I can’t stay much longer.”
    The curator seemed troubled by this fact. “Oh, dear. I was hoping to take measurements and photographs. I’d also like to get a second opinion from a colleague before you leave.” She grew thoughtful. “What if we had lunch outside? I could tell you all about Heinrich Kamler and your dog could stretch his legs. If you’re willing, my colleague could examine the painting while we eat.”
    “That would be fine.”
    Smiling, Shala presented Olivia with a menu from the museum’s eatery, Iris. She then phoned her fellow curator and made arrangements for him to view the watercolor. Olivia was impressed by the quality of food offered by the café and had a hard time choosing between two tempting dishes. In the end, she selected a sandwich made of balsamic roasted portabella, thyme, spring leeks, and Gruyère served on ciabatta flatbread.
    Haviland, delighted to be sprung from the Range Rover so quickly, showed his gratitude by being especially obedient. Olivia knew the poodle longed to explore the museum’s extensive grounds, but he contented himself with the picnic area and was very careful to keep his distance from other museums visitors.
    Once Shala had eaten a few bites of her artichoke and grilled shrimp salad, she laid down her fork and took a sip of iced tea. “Heinrich Kamler was a German prisoner of war. He was captured when his U-boat sank off the North Carolina coast in the early days of World War II.”
    Olivia nearly choked on her sandwich. She took a large swallow of San Pellegrino and managed to say, “Was he interred at the New Bern Camp?”
    It was Shala’s turn to be surprised. “Why, yes. As it sounds like you’re familiar with the camp, you may also know that both the guards and the local population treated the prisoners quite well. They were encouraged to learn Americanisms such as democracy and capitalism by creating goods and selling them. I’m not sure which products Heinrich and his friends first crafted, but he eventually earned enough to purchase painting supplies. His most famous works were of the camp itself, but he also created stunning landscapes of his home in Germany. His village bordered the Black Forest, and I believe that’s the scene your friend’s painting depicts.”
    Olivia’s thoughts were racing. Had Nick Plumley known about the painting? Was it the reason he repeatedly sought access to Harris’s home? But how could he know of its existence when it had remained hidden for so many years?
    “Are Kamler’s paintings valuable?” Olivia asked the curator.
    “Indeed. Your friend’s is worth at least twenty thousand dollars. If placed in auction, it could bring double that amount. Maybe triple.” Shala speared a shrimp on her fork. “It will certainly generate a buzz. A fresh Kamler work after all this time? I’m certain our director will try to acquire the painting for the museum, and he won’t be alone. The wolves of the art world will gather the moment the news gets out.”
    Olivia wondered how Harris would respond when she informed him that he had discovered a genuine treasure. “What happened to Kamler?”
    Shala’s attractive face clouded. “For some reason, he and another prisoner decided to escape. He killed one of the guards—a knife with his initials carved into the handle was found protruding from the victim’s back. Kamler just disappeared afterward.” She pushed pieces of lettuce around in her