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Detective Reed Mysteries

Written by Lucille Lever ©2008

Especially for ESL Learners

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The Mystery of the Grey-Blue Pigment by L.Lever ©2008

Vocabulary:

Vocabulary in this story:  Look up the words in your dictionary before you start to read.  The words appear in the order you will find them in the story.

And now.....the story:

The Mystery of the Grey-Blue Pigment by L.Lever ©2008

Detective Reed investigates….

The Mystery of the Grey-Blue Pigment

By Lucille Lever ©2008

As the doors of the museum were closing, Detective Reed pushed himself through the opening.  It was a quarter to five, and the museum doors were usually closed at this time, although they were only locked at five o’clock.  Detective Reed knew if he could stand opposite the real painting of “The Garden Wall” he would be able to solve the mystery at last.

He had sat up for long hours at night thinking about the painting.  He had studied many photographs of the painting.  His desk was covered with books, all open at the page with a picture or information about art, and the famous piece, “The Garden Wall”.  The mystery was a not a new one, and an immediate solution wasn’t necessary, but Detective Reed had been asked by a secret client to solve the case.

Detective Reed had searched in many places for more information about the painter’s life. Philippe Hathaway had been a recluse -- a man who enjoyed time by himself, with his paintings and books, and little company.  Not much was written about his work or lifestyle.  Then one day, the detective passed an old bookstore and happened to find a dusty, unread, old book about artists from another time and place. It was this book that helped him get answers to his questions.

The book told about Philippe’s secret love of a young woman named Rose.  Rose’s father would not allow the young artist to visit her.  Philippe and Rose were madly in love and hoped to marry.  The large garden wall built around Rose’s house kept everyone out.  The couple found a way to communicate by leaving love notes under a loose, broken brick in the wall.  The brick was a grey-blue color, a brick of great significance to Rose and Philippe.  Then one day, Philippe found no letter.  And no more letters came.  Philippe heard that Rose had been sent away by her father.  After some time had passed, the young artist decided to paint a picture of the garden wall with every detail, to perfectly recreate the wall on canvas.

Like a puzzle, his painting came together.  But it was that special brick that Philippe was unable to produce exactly.  He could not find a pigment that was necessary to show that special grey-blue color of the broken brick.

Detective Reed discovered also, some letters from the painter that had been printed in the book – an amazing find.  In the handwriting of the painter, the same as that on all his other paintings, was the following letter.

Dear Rose,

Though my efforts have been great to prove to you that I could paint the wall of your house – a wall that brings back memories of you, my visits to see you, and the keeper of our secrets, I have failed you.

While I was able to produce every color on that wall in my painting, I have not been able to paint the color of the broken brick under which we would always place our love letters.  I tried in every way to make the pigment an identical grey-blue color, but I have not succeeded.  My friend Sebastian ensures me that my painting is perfect and that the exact match is unimportant in art.  Sebastian is a painter of great fame, he is my teacher, I have learned much from him, so I should listen to him, but I am dissatisfied with the result.  Please forgive me.  I plan to destroy the painting and redo it in your memory – my dear Rose.  It will be too late for you, I know, but not for me and our memories.

My dearest love, Rose,

Philippe.

Now, Detective Reed stood close to the painting in the museum. His eyes traced every detail he had studied from the books.  The painting was just like in the books.  Every detail seemed right. The wall, too, was perfect.  So, Philippe Hathaway hadn’t destroyed the painting after all!  And the colors seemed perfect too.  Here was his masterpiece to his love, Rose. In very small print at the base of the picture were the words:

“A man who painted for love,

-         And died without it.”

Detective Reed blinked his eyes in surprise.  Something did not fit.  Something was out of place.  He walked quickly to the museum doors which were being locked by the guard.  It was five o’clock.  He walked out to the street, raised his arm to call out “Taxi!” and climbed into the back seat. “Rochefort Place, number 631 please.”

The taxi made its way through the narrow roads and stopped at 631 – an old, preserved house that the historical society kept as an example of homes from the previous century. There was the garden wall! The real wall that Philippe had painted; it was perfectly kept for everyone to see.  Detective Reed moved to the broken brick; it was there exactly as he knew it would be, but as he looked closer, he nodded his head, and then said to himself in a loud voice, “Not the color on the painting! This is not the color on the painting!”

Philippe Hathaway had not been satisfied with his original painting because he couldn’t produce the color for the brick.  He had told Rose in a letter that he would destroy his painting and make the perfect replica of the wall on his canvas.  Yet, the painting in the museum was not a perfect copy of this wall as Philippe had promised.  The pigment he needed was unavailable.  Detective Reed walked around the green, flower-filled garden in thought.  Something else troubled him.

“The writing on the painting is not Philippe’s!” Reed said aloud.  He sat down on a wooden bench.  The sun was going down and the detective began to feel that he may never solve the mystery. Suddenly, he felt as if a warm light filled his head. “The painting is not Philippe’s!” he said, “Philippe would never have broken his promise to Rose.  He must have destroyed his painting as he said he would do. No, someone else painted that picture and placed it with the other collections of Philippe’s work before they were removed and taken from his home. The painting must have been done by someone else in memory of Philippe and Rose, after the painter’s tragic death."

“Sebastian!” shouted Detective Reed, clapping his hands high in the air. Reed realized that Philippe’s friend must have painted “The Garden Wall” in honor of the young, talented man.  Sebastian believed the painting was perfect enough without the pigment Philippe had wanted.  Sebastian himself must have done the painting that was hanging in the museum.  He must have felt that the wrong pigment should not be a reason for a painting of love not to be in a museum, in memory of Philippe’s work and his love for Rose.

And so the mystery ended.  It was clear that the painting that now hung in the museum with all of Philippe’s pictures was not one of Philippe’s at all.  And few would even know it.  The picture deserved its honor; if not done by the artist, then for the artist’s sake.  “And it didn’t really matter, did it?" thought Detective Reed.  The truth was there in the words at the bottom of the painting,

“The man who painted for love,

-         And died without it.”