Chapter 19
The Fifth Panel

The missing panel was hanging above a coffee machine.

Imani first saw it in a photograph sent by the contractor's grandson. He had found a box of old workshop images while clearing a storage room. In one, a damaged panel leaned against a wall beneath a calendar. On the back of the photograph was a note naming the Blue Anchor Café.

The café stood three streets from the harbor.

Imani had walked past it hundreds of times.

She forwarded the image to Lena and Elena before going anywhere. They arranged a visit with the café's owner, Mrs. Fernandes, who sounded more curious than defensive.

“My husband bought several things when the old workshop closed,” she said. “I have receipts somewhere. If it belongs to someone else, we'll need to understand that properly.”

The white bird had been framed vertically and hung away from the hottest equipment, but years of café air had still left their history. The panel looked darker than in the early photographs. A narrow section near the bottom had been trimmed or altered, though the extent required examination.

Elena did not touch it until appropriate handling and documentation were arranged.

“Is it ruined?” Imani asked.

“That's not a useful first question. We need to understand its condition and what treatment is possible.”

Mrs. Fernandes looked worried.

“We liked it. We weren't trying to hide anything.”

“Liking it isn't something you need to apologize for,” Lena said. “We'll establish how it came here.”

The receipt identified a sale of decorative salvage from the contractor's premises. It did not establish that the contractor had been entitled to sell this particular piece. The advisers would handle that issue, including the café's documented purchase and the interests of others.

What the photograph established was enough to begin: the original bird panel had not simply vanished. It had spent years above people drinking coffee, waiting for buses, and arguing over the newspaper.

Mrs. Fernandes brought out a photograph of her husband at the café's opening. He held a paint roller and looked tired enough to fall asleep where he stood.

“He chose it,” she said. “We couldn't afford much for the walls. He thought the bird looked like it had survived a bad decision.”

Imani smiled.

“Did he know where it came from?”

“Only what the seller told him. I'll tell the advisers exactly that.”

The photograph showed the panel when it arrived, giving it additional value. Elena asked whether a copy could be included in the research record. The owner agreed after they explained how it would be identified and used.

She kept the picture on the counter while they spoke. A customer recognized her husband and began telling a story about the first espresso machine, which had leaked through an entire opening weekend.

For several minutes, the missing artwork stopped being the center of the room. Another history occupied the table, with names Imani did not know and jokes she could still understand.

She listened instead of steering them back to her question.

When the customer left, Mrs. Fernandes wrapped the photograph in a clean cloth before returning it to a drawer.

“Things can matter to more than one person,” she said.

Imani nodded. The inquiry needed to establish rights precisely. It did not need to treat every other attachment as a mistake. She thanked the owner for showing them the picture and waited while she served the order.

When Setsuko saw the new images, she became quiet.

“I know that wing,” she said.

She did not ask for a dramatic recovery ceremony. She asked that the panel be handled safely and that Mrs. Fernandes not be presented as a thief before the history was examined.

The replacement panel in the Harlow screen acquired its own history through the contractor's records. A junior painter had made it to restore the set's appearance for an event. The work had later been treated as an original through repeated catalog descriptions that failed to carry the replacement note forward.

Owen had received a partial condition summary when preparing the current sale. Whether he had sought the underlying records became a separate question.

Imani stood outside the café after the viewing with a cup Mrs. Fernandes insisted she take.

“I thought it was a bird in bad weather,” the owner said. “People said it looked hopeful.”

“It still can.”

“Even with all this?”

Imani looked through the window at the empty place on the wall where the panel would remain until safe transport was arranged.

“I don't think the paperwork gets to decide everything people saw in it.”

Mrs. Fernandes nodded, then went inside to serve a customer who had been waiting patiently through a conversation he did not understand.

For once, Imani stayed long enough to finish her coffee while it was warm.