2: The Collector strikes

Inspector Kalra was peeking through the windows of the art gallery.
‘Odd, Selvakumar. Not a single painting inside.’
‘No, saar.’ Said Selvakumar. ‘You are looking into the bathroom.’
‘O teri. This is a big bathroom.’
‘It used to be the District Magistrate’s favourite drawing room during the Raj.’ Said a booming voice. ‘No. 1 revenge on the British.’
Bhatinda police had been warned by the country’s most celebrated burglar that he would strike at Bobby Khanna's art exhibition, billionaire distributor of industrial solvents though he be.
Because he had once held the highest administrative post in a Central Indian district, the story went, people called this celebrity burglar the Collector.
His most famous heist was stealing the State Dinner thrown in honor of the President of Bechuanaland, which caused the indignant Bechuanans to cancel their own State Dinner in honor of the Prime Minister of Italy later that week. This caused much heartburn to the Italians and much relief to the Prime Minister, who really wasn’t looking forward to a repast of steamed lizard skins.
Since then, the Collector had lain low; and even the Maharaja of Gaipajama admitted that the theft of the diamond of Shivoo was an elaborate insurance scam.
Then sometime later, a video started circulating on youtube of a talking monkey saying ‘y lko kts’. A visiting Bechuanan scholar explained that the monkey was speaking his tongue, but having very little English, could explain it no better than ‘he saying ymsm werwe nstss ha ha no dinner fuck you’.
The message was eventually translated by an anonymous cryptologist on a viral email forward as: ‘Striking Bhatinda Arts College.Beware.’ The local police promoted the constable who first received the forward, and then promptly went on to deposit $5,000 in a bank account as requested by the Nigerian businessman in his earnest email. The subsequent loss too, was blamed on the Collector.

And that was why Inspector Kalra and Selvakumar stood gazing at the fat man in a t-shirt who was twirling his Rolex. With him stood a nervous old man.
‘We also renamed the building after a freedom fighter.’ The fat man continued: ‘That is No.2 revenge.’
‘Myself Selvakumar.’ Said Selvakumar. ‘What is your good name?’
‘Bobby Khanna.’ He said richly. ‘Open the door.’
Selvakumar pressed against the teakwood before realizing that the remark was addressed to the nervous old man who was vigorously tackling the latch.
The door opened. Lights were switched on. The gallery was bathed in the light of a hundred masters.
‘That Renoir’, said Bobby Khanna, ‘Went missing for a hundred years.’
‘Your collection must be very large, saar.’ Said Selvakumar. ‘To not notice it.’
‘Then one day it comes up on ebay. People say it’s a fake, but I know better. How?’
‘Because it is signed?’ guessed Selvakumar.
‘Banerjee. Consultant.’ A nattily dressed man had appeared next to Bobby Khanna.
‘Selvakumar. So what’s the answer?’
‘I said so.’ Said Banerjee. ‘and I know what I say.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Kalra, ‘that you have the Mona Lisa in your collection.’
‘This one is genuine.’ Banerjee explained. 'Unlike what you might see in the Louvre, say.'
‘And is this painting of Michael Jackson really by Van Gogh?’
‘The brushwork is too similar to be anyone else's. What can I say?’He looked at the billionaire, who whispered: ‘Your invoice is being processed.’
‘Tchah.’ Said Banerjee. ‘Commerce, commerce.’
‘Why,’ asked Inspector Kalra, ‘is the old man carrying that canvas out?’
‘I told him he could have it.’ Said Bobby Khanna. ‘Poor man has wanted a painting all his life.’
‘We charged him for it, of course.’ Smiled Banerjee. ‘Twenty thousand rupees for a fake like that.’
‘The money’s not important.’ Explained Bobby Khanna. ‘But he should learn to value art.’
‘Money’s not important at all.’ Agreed Banerjee. ‘It was to rid your collection of that one fake. Where did you buy it?’
‘Christie’s. What a bunch of crooks.’
‘Sunset and Irises by one Manet’. Said Banerjee. ‘Bugger couldn’t even spell Monet.’