Paint a Murder

by Lily Ashton

  “I’m only too happy to talk about Julian de Havilland. In fact, I’m surprised nobody has asked me about him before. What do you want to know?” Intelligent blue eyes looked out from a pale, creased face framed by shoulder-length grey hair.

  “Several things, but first of all, Carrie Developments. As I mentioned to you on the phone, I saw you voted against the company getting the Dunn Road development contract and I wondered why that was?”

  “As councillors on the steering committee we were given a report on the five companies that tendered for the contract. Only two of them met the criteria, so they went through to the second round. I agreed with the assessment. There was a meeting to decide which of the two contractors to appoint. You read the public report on both companies, but the councillors were given another, more detailed report.”

  Felicity turned over a sheet of paper on her lap. “This is the front page of the first report and you can see that Carrie Developments and Zettus Construction were the two recommended companies. Here is the front page of the second report and the recommended companies are now Carrie Developments and Caramel Stone.”

  Alice took the pages from Felicity.

  “At first, I thought it was a mistake and queried it with the officer who’d produced the reports. But then I got a phone call from Julian de Havilland saying there was no mistake. Zettus Construction had withdrawn, so Caramel Stone had been promoted, as it were, to give councillors a choice in the second round of the tender process.”

  “But Caramel Stone hadn’t met the criteria.”

  “Exactly.” Felicity leant forward. “I asked him what the point of having selection criteria was, if he was going to ignore it. But he was in no mood for a debate. He said that’s what he’d decided and he expected me to vote for Carrie Developments, as they were the best option.”

  “Isn’t that against some rule? Coercion or something.”

  “Politics isn’t the nicest business, which is why I got out of it in the end.” Felicity put the rest of her papers on the ground beside her chair. “Though I was surprised at Julian’s behaviour. He was usually so polite and mild-mannered. It was a bit heavy-handed of him to say the least.”

  “But why did you vote against Carrie Developments when they were the best option?”

  “Well that was the point, Alice, I didn’t think they were. In the first report Carrie and Zettus Construction’s applications were more or less even on technical aspects. But Zettus was cheaper, would finish quicker and was more considerate of residents. To me, they were the best option.”

  “So why was Julian so keen on Carrie Developments?”

  “I don’t know, he just made it clear they were his preferred option. Anyway, then we were told that, unusually, the two companies would give a presentation to councillors on their bids. Caramel Stone’s representative gave a thin presentation – it seemed to me like he had only been told about it minutes earlier and was making it up on the hoof.”

  “And the Carrie rep gave a better pitch?”

  The spaniels growled at each other over the bone. Felicity got up and threw it into a bin.

  “Hardly. Oh, he was full of himself, a cocky, unpleasant little man. But he didn’t have a grip on his brief and he couldn’t answer any of my questions.”

  “What was he in the organisation?”

  “I didn’t get his title. David something. He was intimidating and looked like he was ex-military. Perhaps he was brought in to scare us into voting for Carrie Developments.” Felicity’s tinkling laugh invited Alice to join in.

  “So, you voted against Carrie Developments at the meeting. What happened after that?”

  “Nothing. I expected Julian to tell me off for not doing what I’d been told, but he didn’t say a word. Then a couple of days later I got a call from Jason Marley asking if I would meet him.” Felicity smiled. “Anyway, I was going on holiday the next day, so we agreed to talk when I got back. However, I changed my mind, so we didn’t end up meeting after all.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  Felicity looked into her lap. When she looked up, her eyes were welling. “I promised my husband I wouldn’t talk about this again, but it was a long time ago and now that Jason’s dead I don’t suppose it matters anymore.” She sighed. “When I got back from holiday, two envelopes had been posted by hand through my letterbox. They both contained abusive and threatening messages, warning me against meeting Jason Marley.”

  Alice leant forward, ready to catch Felicity’s next words as soon as they dropped.

  “I was on my own when I opened them, and at first I thought that someone might be in the house. I was terrified, so rigid with fear that I was still sitting in the same position when my husband got home. We called the police and they took the letters away. Then Derry and I agreed we would forget about it and not mention it again.”

  “Did you ever find out who had sent the letters?”

  “No. The police didn’t either, though I’m not convinced they tried very hard. They were a bit fed up with Jason by that stage.”

  Alice couldn’t help wondering what she, all alone on Daisy, would have done in the same situation.

  “You must have been scared witless. I admire you for carrying on at the council, it must have been difficult for you.”

  “I didn’t carry on. There was an election five months later and I didn’t stand again. My career in public life came to an ignominious end, something I’m not proud of.”

  “It doesn’t have to end like that.” Alice patted Felicity’s arm. “Jason’s murder is unsolved. I’m going to find out what Carrie Developments and Julian de Havilland have in common. I’ve also got two missing paintings and I think Julian may be connected to that too. I would be very grateful for any assistance you can give me.”

  Felicity consulted her lap again, then looked at Alice with wide eyes.

  “Why not? Nobody warned me not to talk to you.”

  Flecks of white sparkled through a sprawling tree as the late afternoon sun moved behind it. Alice pondered Felicity’s story of coercion and bullying at the council as she walked to the river, and Roddy’s barge.

  Alice did not doubt Felicity’s story. But who would have sent her the letters? Julian de Havilland? Or someone at Carrie Developments? They stood to miss out on the contract if the councillors voted against – but the letters were sent after the contract was awarded, so what was the point, other than to scare an old lady?

  The sender must have been so terrified of what Jason Marley had to tell Felicity Gault, that they warned her off meeting him. But what had he known? And had it cost him his life?

  Who better to ask than Nathan Salisbury.

  Chapter 35

  “When I suggested you shouldn’t do anything silly, I meant things like flirting with your biggest funder’s husband.”

  Roddy flicked his paintbrush, splattering spots of green paint onto Alice’s arm. She brushed them away, turning them into thin streaks. She pulled herself out of Roddy’s deckchair, crossed the deck and settled into a rickety director’s chair.

  It occurred to her that Roddy might have something to say about that little drink she had had with Nathan Salisbury. Unconsciously, she touched the spot on her cheek where Nathan had kissed it, and smiled.

  “Dear girl, please come back to me.” Roddy stood over her, paintbrush pointing at her head.

  “Just thinking about something. Anyway, I wasn’t flirting with Walker and I don’t think he was flirting with me.”

  “Well, now you’re just being annoying. Hampton isn’t capable of not flirting, he even gave me a look-over once.” Roddy smiled at the memory. “Though we were both very drunk at the time.”

  “Okay, he may have flirted a little, but he’s really not my type. Anyway, he and Vivien have separate bedrooms.”

  “Of course, they do. What’s the point of havi
ng a huge house if you can’t have your own room?”

  Roddy mixed yellow with green and dabbed the paint onto a half-formed tree.

  “And Walker has all those lovely paintings in his room, so he can enjoy them by himself. Anyway, I met him because I wanted to ask him about Jason Marley, seeing as they knew each other so well.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Nothing I didn’t already know. He just wanted to talk about the Augustus John drawing. Understandable I suppose – who had seen it at the gallery, that sort of thing. It didn’t sound like Vivien had told him much.”

  “So, he lunched you to prise information about the drawing from you. How interesting! It wouldn’t surprise me if Hampton had stolen the thing himself.”

  Alice swung her sunglasses to and fro. “You are joking, of course.”

  “Not really, Hampton is a collector with taste and knowledge. He has lots of shady contacts – he was a banker after all – so he could easily have stolen the drawing and sold it on to a discreet buyer. It’s probably overseas now, never to be seen again.”

  “But why would he do it? He doesn’t need the money and if he got caught he’d go to prison.”

  “It’s sport to him, he needs some excitement.” Roddy picked up another brush and teased the green blobs into leaves.

  “He has a lovely life. He’s rich, he travels and he’s got a fantastic studio for painting. What more could he want?”

  “Dear girl, the bedroom arrangements tell you everything you need to know about the Hampton–Taylor relationship. They are friends and colleagues, but it is a marriage of convenience, for both of them.” Roddy lifted the brush from the canvas and looked away.

  There was a long silence, then Alice said, “Are you thinking about Elisabeth?”

  Roddy laid down the brush, picked up a dirty rag and wiped his hands. “I was thinking about her paintings. My conversations with your lenders have reignited a desire to find one of them. Before, I thought it would be too painful to live with Elisabeth’s work. But I always loved her paintings and now I want to have one.”

  “I can understand that. I’ve held onto the Augustus John postcard my father gave me because I felt it brought him closer.” She got up, walked over to the barge’s side and looked over the river.

  Suddenly, Alice spun around. “I could help you find one of her paintings, if you want me to? I’m already asking people about the Augustus John drawing, so I can ask about Elisabeth’s work too. Do you have any idea who she sold to?”

  “No, I never asked her about her clients. Besides, it was years ago, her paintings could be anywhere.” He attempted a smile. “It’s sweet of you, Alice, but don’t worry. Besides, you’d probably take it as an invitation for more flirting with Walker Hampton!”

  “I am not flirting with him, he’s flirting with me. Though, I suppose I could ask him …” She laughed.

  “Don’t even think about it. I know it seems I’m interfering, but you should be wary of Hampton. He’s a hard-nosed, self-interested man. He uses people, then spits them out when he’s finished with them.” Roddy closed the paint box and fastened it with a metal clip. “Besides, you should pay more attention to his wife. By the way, what is the latest on her drawing?”

  “There’s no news. Nathan Salisbury is bringing in a specialist from London, so hopefully that will speed things along. In the meantime, I’ll carry on speaking to the lenders – I still think they’re more likely to know where the drawing went than some woman from London.”

  “Agreed. And what of Beach? Did you get anywhere with that?”

  “No. Edward Hacker admitted he had borrowed it, but he won’t say where it is now.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got everything covered. DI Salisbury can put his feet up.”

  Alice half-frowned, half smiled. “At least, you’ll be pleased to know I’m doing something for Joe. I’m cooking a fancy dinner tonight. And before you make some sarcastic remark—”

  “I think you mean some witty remark.”

  “… some witty remark about my cooking, I’ve done something sensible for a change. I’ve bought it from Livvie, so all I have to do is heat it up. That does count as cooking doesn’t it?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no other kind!”

  Alice pulled open Daisy’s hatch door and sped through to the cabin, dumping her bag on the sofa as she flew passed. She threw off her clothes and skipped into the bathroom.

  After a refreshing shower, Alice retrieved her white jeans from the back of the chair in the corner of the cabin. She took Livvie’s dinner from the fridge and walked round the bend in the river to Joe’s apartment.

  The view from Joe’s balcony was completely different to the one from Daisy’s deck, despite being only a few hundred metres along the water. Near the bridge, summer stallholders, making the most of the long, warm evenings, sold drinks and snacks. Their squawks and shouts reached Alice two floors up. On the grassy banks opposite, picnickers squeezed into prime waterside spots. One man was chilling a bottle of wine in the river, one end of string tied around the neck of the bottle, the other to the leg of his folding chair.

  “The cricket club has a firework display tonight, so we’ll get a good view from here.” Joe rested both arms on the balcony railing. “Or we could wander over there if you like.”

  “Okay. I could do with a walk after that dinner.”

  “It’s about time you learnt how to cook, I reckon.” Joe put a hand on Alice’s back. “I could teach you if you like.”

  “I may well take you up on that.”

  She finished her wine and twirled the stem in her fingers. Dinner had been a success. Alice was pleased she had bought it rather than wrestle with Joe’s kitchen and her lack of cooking skills. She leant against Joe and he put an arm around her shoulder.

  “By the way,” he said. “I’ve put Finn’s pictures on the computer for you, so you can see them on my big screen.”

  “Oh good, thanks for that. Can we see them now?”

  They sat side by side at Joe’s desk, and he loaded the images.

  “It looks like you all had a good time,” he said.

  “Vivien Taylor certainly knows how to throw a party. There were waiters everywhere doling out glasses of very good champagne.”

  “Rafferty had had a few by the look of him.”

  Alice smiled at a picture of Roddy, open-mouthed, in full flow, eyebrows and glass raised. “He really enjoyed himself, he doesn’t go to many parties these days.”

  “Did he manage to get any material for your catalogue in between the drinks?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. Well, not surprising that he got some lovely stories, but that he remembered them and even wrote them down. He gave me sheets of handwritten notes the next day, like a schoolboy handing in his homework.”

  “You did right giving him that job I reckon, it’s doing him good. Will you use these pictures in the catalogue too?”

  “Possibly only the ones of Vivien and the Augustus John drawing, though I daren’t look at them now. Tempting fate and all that. Pity not to use more of them, though. Gosh, Finn did take a lot of the river.”

  “He enjoyed the gig. I’d told him there was a good fishing spot just beyond Taylor’s house, so he was having a look under the guise of taking pictures. We could run up there ourselves tomorrow. Take the boat out, do some fishing.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Joe’s phone rang and he went out onto the balcony.

  Alice’s eyes switched back to the photos. People came and went, some she recognised, others not. Blushing faces, from Vivien’s fine champagne or the sun – or both. Spiritless waiters offering canapes. Vivien flitting around her guests: Roddy, Marjorie, Claudia, Walker.

  Walker! So, he had joined the party after all.

  Not that he looked in a party mood. He
was talking to a man and stabbing a finger right at his face. His body was stiff and he had pulled himself up to his full height, towering over his companion.

  Alice recognised the other man as Martin Bradman, one of lenders. She had seen him at the party, even spoken a few words to him.

  Alice scanned all the pictures, but there was only one shot of Walker and Martin Bradman together and no others of Walker at all. It was pure luck that Finn had caught it.

  Joe’s voice came from the balcony. “The fireworks are starting. Want to come out and watch?”

  Alice stepped out and put her arm around Joe’s waist. He smiled and looped his arm around her shoulder. A burst of red and green shot across the sky, to cries of ‘Aahh!’ from the crowd below. She snuggled closer to him, resting her cheek in the dent of his shoulder. In the gold and white spray, she pictured the lone figure of Walker Hampton wandering through the empty rooms of his big house. He lingered a moment in her mind, then along with the fireworks, he dissolved into the black sky.

  Chapter 36

  After a relaxing Sunday, the first thing Alice did on Monday morning was ignore Duncan Jones’ email asking for an update on the exhibition. Instead, she sprawled on the bean bag in Daisy’s cabin and watched the birds as they crossed and recrossed the network of branches across the river.

  The day before, she and Joe had pottered about on the river all day, trying to catch fish. And failing. They had planned to barbeque their catch on the riverbank in the evening, but with nothing biting they had paid a visit to the fishmonger instead. No matter. With fresh bread and chilled wine, they had enjoyed an el fresco supper, listening to crickets chirping in the grass as they watched the sun go down.

  Alice’s laptop slid off her lap onto the floor, wiping the grin from her face. She retrieved it and opened her inbox again.

  Interesting. There was a reply from the British Virgin Islands Registrar of Corporate Affairs, with a list of all the companies in the territory, together with their directors.