THE LOST WOMAN

In Mulvahill’s debut novel, a socialite/philanthropist hires an art historian/detective to retrieve paintings that Nazis pilfered from her family’s Paris art gallery during WWII.

Nicole (née Cassin), the protagonist of this labyrinthine tale, was an outspoken Parisian girl who hated the occupying Nazis with a passion. The Cassins were Jewish, so it was only a matter of time before the Nazis took away her father and her mother. Despite the Gestapo’s constant presence, Nicole continues to work at the family gallery, now “Aryanized” and run by a small-time opportunist. The German occupiers are initially polite, but soon the brutality surfaces, which prompts Nicole to join the French Resistance. Eventually, the novel turns into a tense nail-biting thriller: Can she keep her membership in the resistance a secret until the arrival of the Allied liberators? Meanwhile, in a postwar flash forward, decades later, art historian/sleuth Robert Ames, hired by Nicole, has managed to locate her former GI lover, Sam Popinski, in a Detroit retirement home. The interview does not go well, and Popinski dies that very night. But the real bomb drops when his son, seeing a snapshot of Popinski before his enlistment, says, “That’s not my father!” But there is an upside: At the retirement home Robert meets young staff psychologist Amy Wexford, and they soon become not just a team of sleuths but lovers. Do they recover the stolen paintings? Well, thanks to modern computer data bases, Robert’s expertise, and Amy’s pluck, the search is not as hopeless as it might seem.

Mulvahill has a visual art background, which she uses to good effect throughout. She is also an imaginative writer capable of turning an original phrase now and again (a village’s destruction had been “meaningless as a domino to be toppled on the way to a pyrrhic victory”). In some ways, the Popinski subplot is even more intriguing than the search for the paintings. When it first begins to seem that there must be a lifelong Popinski imposter somewhere in the bosom of his family, the reader might wonder: How in the world is Mulvahill going to pull this off? We do find out that Robert came by his calling honestly, because his beloved grandfather had not only been a museum curator but also one of the Monuments Men at the tail end of the war, resulting in some moving vignettes and reflections on the futility of war. Robert is also a credible (if secretive) artist, and Amy encourages him to come out of the closet, as it were. The philosophy of art looms large all throughout the novel: Should it be valued as product or process? What about the venality of art dealers and collectors? At one point Robert and Amy have a playful discussion about the value of a work of art versus a human life (to his credit, Robert says that no work of art is worth a human life). But later on, we find out that Robert and Amy’s silly parlor game prefigured a real and tragic choice that Nicole inadvertently had to make.

An ingeniously plotted fiction debut with well-drawn characters and plenty of historical depth.