The Art Thief's Guide To Freedom

18: Step 18: How To Learn French In Five Easy Steps

"In December 2009, a small painting by Edgar Degas was quietly stolen from the Cantini museum in Marseille, France. Museum staff discovered Les Choristes was missing when they arrived in the morning, and the prosecutor suggested it could be an inside job because the painting had been unscrewed from the wall and there was no evidence of a break-in. An investigation was launched, but eight years went by and the 1877 painting — worth an estimated $1 million — wasn't seen again. That was until last Friday, when French customs agents happened to check a bus parked at a highway stop about 18 miles east of Paris."

Laurel Wamsley, The Two Way, February 24, 2018

~**~**~

Will was not expecting that.

He had questioned hundreds of suspects, thousands maybe.

But none of them had fainted.

And a large demographic of those suspects were elderly women prone to dramatic spells.

So this circumstance was surprising, to say the least.

Gaspard hadn't hit his head on the ground (Will's quick reflexes had saved the man that fate) yet it still took more than a couple of minutes for the auctioneer to come back around.

A groan escaped the man's thin lips, followed by a fluttering of eyelids.

After adjusting to his current predicament (and following Will's instructions to check for a concussion), Gaspard dusted himself off and rose to his feet.

"I have no idea what that painting is but my point remains the same, monsieur."

Gaspard spoke with confidence but avoided looking at Will. In fact, the man was making eye contact with everything in the building except for Will.

Unless the quick drop to the floor had messed with his vision so badly, the man was not confusing a ficus for the FBI agent.

Holding in the sigh that was threatening to escape from his pursed lips, Will hefted the frame of the canvas in his hand. "Mr--"

"Serrurerie."

"Mr. Saylaree, considering your response upon seeing the painting--"

Gaspard interrupted Will mid sentence and said, "It is Serrurerie."

Caught off guard and knocked off his train of thought, Will answered bluntly. "Yes, that's what I said-- Saylaree."

An indignant look crossed Gaspard's face and his tone showed that he definitely took offense at Will's pronunciation. "No, monsieur, I must insist that whatever you think you are saying, it is not Serrurerie."

"Okay. . ." Will was pretty sure they were saying the exact same thing but to appease the man, he flipped open a pocket notebook and clicked his pen. "How do you spell it?"

Gaspard told him the spelling and Will diligently wrote it down.

He stared at the black letters for a beat.

S E R R U R E R I E

It seemed pretty straight forward. Will had learned phonics in Kindergarten. Not to brag, but he had been at the top of his class.

The pronunciation between English and French couldn't be that different, right?

"Suh-roo-roo-ree," Will said, pretty confident that he had nailed it on that try.

But as Gaspard's eyes very nearly popped out of his head, Will assumed it might have been a bit off.

"Répéte après moi: Se-Ry-Rri," Gaspard sounded out, lifting his hand into the air to mimic the nuances of the phonics.