Paint a Murder

by Lily Ashton

  “If only! I have loads, but our editor is risk-averse, so he won’t touch them with a barge pole.”

  Alice perched on the arm of the sofa. “Oh, do tell.”

  Claudia settled at the opposite end. “I once met someone who knew Tom Keating. She had one of Tom’s John Constable lookalikes.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes. Amazingly, he’d given it to her as a birthday present, can you imagine?”

  “I bet she was looking at holiday homes in the Caribbean after that.”

  “That’s what I’d be doing. But I think Tess had more than a little crush on Tom and she would never have sold it.” Claudia winked. “Anyway, she showed me the techniques Tom used to produce a really good fake.”

  “Isn’t it all about using materials of the right age, matching colours exactly, providing a provenance authenticated by an expert?”

  “All those for sure, but also how to put a genuine-looking signature onto a fake painting.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I wanted to write a tongue-in-cheek piece about how to spot a fake, using Tess’s painting. Tom had been dead for years by then; besides, he wrote a book himself on his fakes, so what was the harm?”

  “And your boss vetoed it?”

  Claudia nodded.

  “I sympathise, I’ve got one of those too.”

  The two women laughed.

  “Well, this has been fun, we should have a proper drink soon. Before I go, I’ll tell you all about Jason Marley’s judicial review.”

  After Claudia had gone, Alice wrote the key points about Jason’s application for judicial review on a blank index card and pinned it on her incident board under ‘Carrie Developments’.

  “Mission accomplished!” Roddy’s voice boomed from the hatch door as he lumbered down the companionway. “We’ve done it.”

  “Brilliant. We’re getting Lady Graydon’s Picasso for the exhibition.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! She’s not lending one of her most precious paintings to some troublemaker who gets beaten up at a protest. No, we’ve fixed the motor on my boat.”

  “You mean I have,” said Joe behind him.

  “Joe helped a bit, but if I hadn’t handed him the tools in the right order, we’d have been there all day.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s a pity about the Picasso. Still, we have a chance to put that right on Monday, Roddy, as you and I are having lunch with Sean Cummings.”

  “There is nothing good in that man’s house, and by the way, I am not eating in his bordello.”

  Joe looked up from the fridge, a beer in his hand. “Bordello?”

  “Don’t worry, Joe, Roddy’s exaggerating, it’s not a real bordello.”

  “But Sean Cummings is a real bore! However, I’ll go for the free lunch. Now, I need a lie down after today’s exertions.” A weary wave and he disappeared up the hatch steps.

  Joe surveyed the incident board, a clouded look on his face. He took Alice’s arm and gently pulled her towards him.

  “Is this wise, Alice? You could leave all this stuff to the police, you know.”

  “So I’ve been told. But the John drawing disappeared on my shift. I’m pretty sure I didn’t set the alarm when I left the gallery with Stefan. That means I lost the drawing, so it’s on me to recover it.”

  “Even if you did forget to set the alarm, you’re not responsible for the theft and you’re definitely not responsible for Jason Marley’s death. I don’t know why you’re pursuing that, too.”

  Alice had not told him about the ‘JM’ letter. She knew he would only worry about her.

  “I know, it’s just something I have to do. I don’t expect you to understand, but please don’t try to stop me.”

  Joe held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. He kissed her forehead.

  “Thank you. Your support means a lot to me.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  Alice put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and her body followed the flex of his muscles as he rubbed her back and swayed from side to side. This should be the right moment to tell him how she felt about him. And a few days ago, she might have done so. But after meeting Nathan, well …

  Chapter 30

  On Monday morning, Alice lay on the bed underneath the open window and allowed the cool river breeze to caress her skin. Outside, a pair of ducks heckled each other. A low whoosh, like the hiss of hot iron on silk, marked the arrival of a third duck to break up the argument.

  The other side of the bed was unoccupied. Joe must have left ages ago.

  A text from Joe told her to wake up. Then: ‘I’m meeting Finn Kinnaman for a drink at The Bull later. Come and join us?’

  She texted back, ‘Sure.’ She still hadn’t seen the photos Finn took at Vivien Taylor’s party and she wanted to use some of them in the exhibition catalogue.

  Alice got up and dressed.

  The phone buzzed again and Alice beamed when Nathan’s name popped up.

  ‘Flat out so can’t make tonight. But are you still on for that drink this week?’

  What was the harm? It was only a drink.

  ‘Absolutely. Looking forward,’ she replied.

  Alice noticed shadows under Julia Marsh’s eyes as she set down two glasses of sparkling water on the table in her courtyard.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, I wasn’t at the police station as long as some of the others.” She dropped a slice of lemon into her glass. “It was fun though wasn’t it? Typical of Richard Smith to liven things up by lying in the road.”

  “So that bit wasn’t planned?”

  “Oh, no. We agreed to march calmly down the high street, across the bridge and convene for speeches by the cricket ground. But, all that went out the window once Richard started his lie-in protest. And of course the police arrived.”

  “It’s a pity it ended that way.” Alice took off her sunglasses and put them on the table.

  “Ooh, that’s a nice shade of purple!”

  “I know. At least the swelling’s gone down, though.” Alice tapped around her eye. “There was something I wanted to ask you, Julia. At the demo, you said that Jason Marley told you he knew all about Carrie. Do you know what he meant by that?”

  “Only that he applied for a judicial review of the council’s decision to grant planning and award the contract to a developer. He was confident of winning the case as he knew about this ‘Carrie’. That isn’t very helpful, but it’s all I know.”

  “Did you know that the company that won the contract is called Carrie Developments?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Julia played with a red ball earring. “I assumed Carrie was a person, but that makes more sense.”

  “Did Jason give you anything to read? A report or his notes, perhaps?”

  “Only the leaflet that I gave you the last time you were here. To be honest, I didn’t really understand the review bit.”

  “I was wondering where he got his information from. Is there someone else in the group that Jason consulted?”

  “I don’t know. There was a woman he said had helped him put the review document together. I don’t know who she was, a girlfriend I assumed.”

  “He didn’t mention a name?”

  “If he did, I don’t recall it I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t worry, but if you do remember, would you let me know please?”

  “Of course. By the way, I heard back from Courtney Slow. He said he would love to come to the gallery and talk about his work. He’ll send through some dates.”

  But Alice was thinking about Jason Marley. A sound legal case and a mysterious girlfriend? Jason Marley had been an interesting man.

  Sean Cummings skipped across th
e polished hallway floor and ushered Alice into the dining room. The burgundy curtains were open, the burgundy walls were lush, there were tassels hanging from the chandelier.

  Roddy was right. There was something of the night about this room, even in broad daylight.

  “We’ll do a tour of my paintings after lunch, but I wanted to show you my latest acquisition first.”

  Sean stood beside a sculpture. “And, here she is. What do you think?” He gazed at Alice with Bambi brown eyes, hands on hips, a pink-striped shirt stretching across his narrow chest.

  Alice contemplated the piece, leaning her head to one side while she searched for the right words. She looked for something that spoke to her, and what she saw was a sludge-coloured heap of … well, just a heap, really.

  “It’s interesting. Where did you acquire it, may I ask?”

  “My dealer in Paris. It’s by an exciting young sculptor called Bobo Hassan. He sent me some photos of the piece and I loved it, so I made an offer immediately.” His eyes rolled and he flicked his left hand from side to side. “But I can’t decide where to put it. We’ve been in this house a year and I still haven’t got used to the space, it has a different vibe to our last home. Jeffrey hates the sculpture and wants it in the drawing room, which we hardly ever use it. But what is the point of having this lovely sculpture where nobody ever sees it?”

  Alice was with Jeffrey.

  “Yes, I can appreciate the problem.”

  Sean’s housekeeper announced that lunch was served in the garden.

  “Sous le soleil, I thought,” said Sean. “It’s too hot to eat indoors.”

  Roddy was watching a pair of alpacas munching grass in a paddock at the bottom of the garden. He joined them as they stepped onto a large patio dotted with artisan shrubs in stainless steel pots.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” said Sean. “I’ll get some wine. Red or white?”

  “White for me, please,” said Alice.

  “Red please.”

  Sean disappeared into the house and when he was out of earshot, Roddy leaned over. “So, what do you think?”

  “He’s wearing orange jeans.”

  “I did warn you. But I mean, what do you think of that revolting sculpture? I think Bobo saw a dodo coming.”

  Alice laughed. “You’re not even exaggerating, for once.”

  “Here we are.” Sean appeared carrying a silver tray with three glasses. “These are my very own wines. Jeffrey bought me some rows in a French vineyard for my birthday five years ago and this batch is the best yet. White for you Alice – it’s nice and chilled. Cheers everyone. Here’s to good art and good taste.”

  “That’s very good wine, Sean, congratulations,” said Alice.

  “The red is fine, too,” said Roddy.

  “Another vineyard, but that’s very kind of you both.”

  Sean blushed, which Alice found adorable.

  “Roddy said you might do me the honour of picking an artwork from my collection for your exhibition.”

  After seeing the sculpture, Alice wasn’t so sure. “I’d love to,” she said cheerfully, “if that’s alright with you.”

  “It would be my pleasure. I’m delighted when other people get to see one of my artworks. I’ve acquired a few more pieces since I spoke to Jenna Farling and you’ll see those too. Though you can’t have Bobo’s sculpture, I couldn’t bear to part with it so soon.”

  Alice avoided looking at Roddy.

  “That’s a shame. Never mind.”

  “Just one small thing, Alice, as we’re talking about the exhibition. I did just want to mention security…”

  Alice had expected the question and was glad that she had prepared an answer.

  “We are currently assessing our already robust security arrangements and we’ll put in place whatever new systems we need to. On police advice.”

  At least she hoped that’s what Duncan was doing.

  “That’s very reassuring, but I had to check, you do understand?” Sean stared down his Roman nose and Alice nodded. “We can’t stop determined thieves, Alice, but we can make it difficult for them. Do start eating.”

  Alice dived into a beautifully presented chicken salad, helping herself to fresh bread from a basket in the centre of the table.

  A car came down the driveway at the side of the house and pulled up at a garage near the patio.

  “That’s Lucas, my nephew,” said Sean. “He borrowed a friend’s new car and took it for a spin. A Porsche, I believe.”

  “It’s a Cayman GTS convertible.”

  Sean held his chicken filled fork in mid-air. “You clever girl! How did you know?”

  “Walker Hampton has one and I went for a ride in it the other day.”

  “Funny, it’s the very same car.” Sean put the fork down. “Walker bragged that he’d taken a beautiful woman out for a spin when he dropped it off earlier. So that was you – how interesting.”

  “There’s another man who would find that interesting, too,” said Roddy.

  Alice bent further over her plate and studied her salad. The fork slipped from her clammy hand and clattered onto the plate.

  “The new paintings you bought recently, Sean, did you get them from your Parisian dealer too?”

  “Only one of them, the others came from different sources, mostly London this time.”

  “Is there anyone locally you buy from? Any friends who are fellow collectors?”

  “Between you and me, Alice,” Sean said with a pained expression, “there’s nobody around here with any taste.”

  Alice put a napkin over her mouth and stifled a snort.

  “With the exception of Walker Hampton, of course. But he doesn’t deal like he used to. The last artwork I bought from him was an Eric Ravilious woodcut, and that must have been fifteen years ago.”

  “Oh, do you still have it?” said Alice. “I love his work.”

  Afterwards, Alice tripped along the road with Roddy, the Eric Ravilious woodcut tucked under her arm.

  “Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” said Roddy. “It was pure luck we found the Ravilious amongst all that tat.”

  “And a woodcut too, the only one we’ll have in the exhibition. If Walker hadn’t convinced Sean to buy it, we probably wouldn’t have it at all.”

  “Talking of Hampton, what were you doing careering around the countryside with him in his new sports car?”

  “He asked me something similar about you. And, frankly, I think you can both mind your own business and stop interrogating me about what I do.”

  Roddy shrugged and they walked on in silence.

  Alice usually treated Roddy’s interest in her relationship with Joe as an annoying joke. She thought his commitment comments old-fashioned, even inappropriate. Whilst she realised he was only looking out for her, sometimes it felt as though he was trying to be her father. She wondered what her father would have said in the same situation. Would he have tried to push her into moving in with Joe? Would he have even liked him? The thought reminded her of Julia Marsh’s remark earlier about Jason Marley.

  “Tell me, Roddy. Do you know if Jason Marley had a partner, or a girlfriend?”

  “He had a woman he kept locked up in his attic, who he let out to cook his dinner and write his protest leaflets.”

  “Did he or didn’t he?”

  “He did and almost exactly as I’ve described. They used to eat together and she helped him with his protest movement. That’s all I know.”

  “What was her name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever meet her?”

  “No. Though, I suppose she would have gone to his funeral yesterday. I wish now that I’d gone too.”

  Alice considered who else would have attended. Neither Livvie nor Julia Marsh had gone. But there was one person she
knew had. And she could give him a call and ask him about Jason’s girlfriend. Walker Hampton.

  Chapter 31

  In the end, Alice put off calling Walker and settled down to work instead. Much as she enjoyed his flirtatious attentions he wasn’t, to put it frankly, her thing.

  ‘We are unable to help you with your request. Thank you for your interest.’ Alice had received the same message from every source she tried, and the people who owned and ran Carrie Developments remained elusive.

  Directors of companies registered in the British Virgin Islands were protected by the territory’s stringent anonymity laws and were not subject to public scrutiny. Instead, they were listed on a register held by the Registrar of Corporate Affairs. Without it, Alice could not know who headed up the organisation planning to build the shopping centre on Dunn Road.

  If Jason Marley knew all about Carrie, she reasoned, then he must have known who the directors were. Was that why he started a legal process to overturn the council’s decision?

  But where and how did he get the information? His mysterious girlfriend?

  Alice took a break on Daisy’s deck. Along the barge’s side, pots of basil and rosemary were tinged with brown. She bent down to tend them, their fragrance punching the air as they slurped from the watering can. The smell brought a whine to Alice’s stomach. It was not long since lunch, but wealthy Sean Cummings had served up paupers’ portions.

  Alice had to find a way to break through the British Virgin Islands’ anonymity barrier. She paced around the cabin searching for inspiration. Her eyes fell on the memory stick from Freddie Garfield. She picked it up and held it in her hand.

  She might have the perfect use for it. All she had to do now was get to Hacker, Stanley & Dole before it closed.

  Toby was on duty again, but this time in the waiting room, stacking magazines into neat piles. He looked up at the clock as Alice raced through the front door and gave a weary greeting as she approached.