by James Green
The little old lady suddenly seemed to be very much her age and as her head bowed slightly Jimmy noticed that the eyes had lost their brightness. He was worried, maybe he’d misjudged how he told her. Now she didn’t look like a sure thing for another ten minutes, let alone years. But slowly she resurfaced.
‘That seems a lot of people to die because of some paintings.’
‘It is. How much would you say they were worth, the hidden ones?’
‘I really have no idea of what they would fetch today, but it would be very many millions of dollars if they were sold on the open market, and probably still millions if they were sold privately to anyone who wouldn’t enquire too closely about their provenance. I suppose there are people who would kill several times over for such a sum of money.’
‘There are, plenty, and one is here in Vancouver.’
‘Do you know who it is?’
‘She calls herself Laura Lawrence but that’s not her name. She’s in her late twenties, short black hair, glasses, medium height, plain-looking. Know her?’
‘No, I’ve never seen anyone who fits that description, but I don’t go out these days so unless she came here I wouldn’t have met her.’
‘How come the paintings are being moved? Why is it important to clean and -’
‘Moved?’ It was obviously news to the old lady, and unsettling news.
‘Yes, they’re crated at the convent ready to be taken away. The Mother Superior was told it was for cleaning and valuation.’
‘On whose authority?’
‘I was told your son’s.’
‘My son?’
‘That’s what she said. She said he had your power of attorney and wanted the pictures valued for insurance purposes.’
Mrs Sikora sat thinking about it. She seemed nervous, agitated. Now even a little fearful.
‘My son does not have power of attorney, and I know nothing about moving the pictures. If I had been consulted I would not have allowed it. I will phone the Mother Superior and stop it.’
‘Can you?’
‘They are still, legally, my paintings.’
‘Yes, but the Mother Superior says your son has power of attorney. I assume she has seen the necessary paperwork and if he says they go I don’t see how the Mother Superior can stop it. Could your son have got power of attorney without your knowledge?’
She thought about that for a second.
‘He brings me papers to sign. I used to read them all carefully but over the last few years…’ She made a small dismissive gesture with one hand. ‘One gets old, tired, becomes careless or too trusting.’
‘That’s a yes then, is it?’
She gave a single nod.
‘I suppose it’s possible that I signed something without realising what it was.’ They sat for a moment. Jimmy let it sink in, that her son was trying to cheat her, to steal from her. She needed time to adjust. He had to be careful. He didn’t want her too tired or too upset to give him what he wanted. When she spoke Jimmy got the impression that she was trying to work something out. ‘You say this woman Lawrence killed all those people, that she is after the money. How does she expect to get hold of the pictures?’
‘I don’t know, but she’s very sure she will. Somehow your son and this Lawrence woman have got together to get hold of the stolen art. I have no idea how she might have involved your son but she has. If the arrangements for the Stations to leave the convent go ahead than my guess is you won’t see the paintings under them again. They’ll be removed. The Stations will be re-framed then cleaned and valued. Apart from you, how would anyone know that anything had been taken?’
The old lady seemed to pull herself together, her head came back up and her eyes were bright again.
‘Then the Stations mustn’t leave the convent. All that must be stopped.’
Good for you, thought, Jimmy.
‘Fine, but don’t tell me, I can’t do anything, tell your son. Confront him with what you know about the power of attorney and remind him that he’s already committed a criminal offence. And then ask him to explain where Laura Lawrence fits in. When he knows he’s blown I’m sure he’ll see the wisdom of co-operating. If he tries to be difficult tell him he stands a good chance of being charged with being an accessory in four murders. If he didn’t know about them before, and he probably didn’t, make sure he knows about them now.’
‘I would rather it didn’t go that far. If it is at all possible I would want the police kept out of it.’
Yes, thought Jimmy, I can see how you’d want that. Your son has committed fraud, got himself mixed up with a multiple murderer and is about to get hold of some stolen art that you have been sitting on for God knows how long. I wouldn’t want the police involved either if I were you. Not that it mattered. Keeping the police out of it until he was ready to drop Laura Lawrence into the lap of Brownlow and Liu for murder was exactly the way he wanted it. When he was ready for that they could have the whole thing, Mrs Sikora, the son, the stolen pictures, the whole lot. Time had run out on trying to keep McBride and the Catholic Church happy.
‘Maybe the police needn’t be involved if he spills everything he knows about Laura Lawrence. All I need is Lawrence for the London murder. I don’t care about the rest, the other killings or the pictures. Can you contact him?’
‘Yes.’
Jimmy took out his mobile and held it out.
‘Go ahead.’
‘I’d rather talk to my son in person, and when I do I want to talk to him alone.’
Jimmy put his mobile away.
‘That’s OK by me so long as while you’re talking to him you make sure to find out how he’s mixed up with the Lawrence woman and where they were going to take the Stations so they could get the pictures they wanted.’
‘What makes you so sure he is involved with this woman? Couldn’t she just be using him?’
‘He fiddled the power of attorney, he committed a crime. He’s involved alright, he has to be. Using him is her only way to get at the pictures and get out free and clear. If he’s moving the pictures it’s because she’s arranged it with him.’
‘Yes, I suppose he must be involved with her.’
‘And I wouldn’t hang about, she’s killed four times and I don’t get the impression she’s the type who would be prepared to go halves once she’s got her hands on what she wants - or leave anybody around who could point the finger at her.’
‘You think she may kill again?’
‘Yes, I think she will.’
She sat looking at her hands in her lap. She was thinking. Jimmy could see that something wasn’t right. He’d told her all she needed to know yet she was still thinking. Eventually she surfaced.
‘And you, Mr. Costello, what will you do if I get you the information you want?’
‘I just want the Lawrence woman in court for murder.’ He waited but she was still thinking. ‘I’ll keep your son out of if I can. I’ll do my best but I can make no promises.’
He told the lie well, it wasn’t acting, it was practice, something left over from his CID days, a throwback to the many times he had interviewed people and told them that same lie, ‘tell me what I want and I’ll keep you out of it’. So they told him and he dropped them straight in it.
‘I’ll talk to my son and then call you.’
She’d come to some sort of decision and wanted him gone.
‘Mrs Sikora, I’ve been open with you. I’ve told you what I know and I haven’t involved the police.’ There was no way she could know that he had. ‘If you know anything or even if you only suspect something I would advise you to share it with me.’
‘What could I know? As you see I am unable to leave the house, I am barely able to leave this room, and when I do so it is only with the help of Mary or my son. Your news about my son and the power of attorney came as a complete surprise to me, as did this business of the woman you suspect murdered all those people. What could I possibly know?’
Jimmy stood up.
If she was digging her heels in there was no point in pushing. Any pressure and she might conk out on him, and he needed her to get in touch with the son as soon as she could. The son was the one who’d get the pressure applied if he didn’t want to co-operate. Anyway, the most important thing now was to put a stopper on the paintings moving. They would have to be moved at some point for Lawrence to show, but Jimmy wanted time to be ready when it happened. When Lawrence surfaced again he wanted to be there.
‘You can get me at the Rosedale on Robson.’
‘I will call you this evening. Please see yourself out.’
‘I’ll wait for your call, and remember you need to get this done quickly.’
‘I will, Mr Costello. I will deal with it as soon as you have left.’
Jimmy turned and walked to the door. He looked back. The bright little eyes were watching him and he was sure her bright little brain was ticking, but whatever was going on in her head he had to leave it as it stood. He closed the door gently behind him.
Back down in the hallway Mary came out of a room as he got to the bottom of the staircase.
‘Do you have the number of a taxi firm? It’s too far to walk back to my hotel?’
‘Certainly.’
Mary left and came back a moment later with a small notebook. She read out a number and Jimmy tapped it into his phone. The cab company answered. He gave them the address and put away the phone.
‘She seems very well for her age, I hope I didn’t stay too long.’
‘She is very well for her age and, no, you didn’t stay too long. She enjoys short visits but she doesn’t get many.’
‘Just her son, I suppose?’
‘No, he doesn’t visit.’
‘No?’
She smiled.
‘He doesn’t need to, he lives here.’
She’d caught him out, it was her idea of a little joke. Jimmy forced out a smile.
‘I see. Well, goodbye. I’ll wait outside for the taxi.’
‘You’re more than welcome to sit in the living room.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’d like to wander up and down in the sunshine until my taxi arrives. It’s a nice neighbourhood.’
Mary went and opened the door.
‘Goodbye, Mr Costello.’
He went out and the door closed behind him. He walked down the path, through the gate and onto the street. It was a quiet place with almost no traffic, he could stroll about and think until the taxi came. He’d picked up another niggle. He’d missed something up there in the old lady’s room, or got something wrong. But what? All he could do was go back to the hotel and wait for her call. It was slow, hard work but he was sure he was close. A day or two and he’d get his chance. It wasn’t the way Philomena would have wanted, but it was what he wanted, and right now it was what he wanted that counted.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The call came at seven p.m.
‘Mr. Costello, could you come and see me?’
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘Sure. I’ll be with you in about twenty minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
From the tone of her voice she’d had her talk and it hadn’t gone well. Still, if you’re confronting your son with attempted theft and being an accessory to multiple murders, you don’t expect sweetness and light, do you? How could it have gone other than badly?
Jimmy went down to the street and found a taxi. The evening traffic was beginning to pick up and the bright lights of the night were coming on although as yet it wasn’t dark. In the suburbs the last cars of those who worked late were making their way home to the expensive, comfortable houses which soaked up the money from all those late hours. Jimmy paid off the taxi, went to the front door and rang the bell. Mary opened it and stood to one side for him to enter. There were no words of welcome and no smiles this time, she just closed the door behind him and led him upstairs. At Mrs Sikora’s door she knocked then turned and walked away. No, thought Jimmy, it didn’t look as if things had gone at all well.
Mrs Sikora was sitting in the same chair but now the curtains were closed and a table lamp was on. She looked pretty much the same except her eyes weren’t so bright. There was a chair waiting opposite her so Jimmy closed the door and went and sat down.
‘Please tell me what your interest in all this is, Mr Costello.’
‘I told you, a friend of mine…’
Her bird-like head shook impatiently.
‘Mr. Costello, please don’t waste my time, God knows I have little enough of it left. Forget your friend for a moment and tell me what it is you’re doing here in Vancouver.’
Jimmy decided that there was no point in pissing her about.
‘I was sent to look into a claim that the Vancouver Roman Catholic Diocese was in the possession of stolen art. You and I know that’s not true because the art in question belongs to you, not the Church. The people I told you about earlier, the student, Marvin Brinkmeyer, and the art dealer, Thurlow Somerset, were allowed to study the paintings that covered the stolen pictures and found out what was under them. That got them killed. Sr Gray knew Marvin Brinkmeyer, she was trying to persuade the police his death wasn’t suicide -’
‘I thought you said he’d been murdered.’
‘I think he was, but the way he was killed…’
Jimmy paused. It wasn’t a pretty thing to describe to a frail old lady.
‘Yes, yes, the way he was killed. Go on.’
‘He put a shotgun in his mouth and blew a good part of his head off.’
Jimmy waited, but the old girl didn’t even blink.
‘It certainly sounds like suicide.’
‘That’s what I thought originally and what the police still think. But now I’m fairly sure Laura Lawrence killed him somehow.’
‘I see. And your friend in London?’
‘She knew Sr Gray. They’d been on a conference together and Sr Gray had told her all about Marvin Brinkmeyer. She was the one who got me to come here and start asking questions.’
‘But you said you had been sent to look into the paintings, not into some suicide.’
There was nothing wrong with the old girl’s faculties. She had a mind that could stay bang on track.
‘I was, but I needed a reason to be here and nose about. Looking into the suicide for a friend of a friend… Anyway, it held the police for a while, and when Sr Gray was killed…’
‘The police have questioned you?’
‘Yes, but as I said, my story was good enough so they weren’t a problem.’ The lies were piling up and he didn’t like it. Keep on lying to a sharp old bird like this and pretty soon he’d trip himself up. He had to take charge. ‘Mrs Sikora, I’ve tried to keep the art out of this so far and that means I’ve kept you and your son out of it, but now I need you to tell me what your son said about the pictures and Laura Lawrence.’
‘He denies any knowledge of this Laura Lawrence.’
‘I see. You told him you knew about the phoney power of attorney?’
‘Yes, but he says he told me what the papers were for when he brought them to me for signing.’
‘But you don’t remember that he did.’
Mrs Sikora gave a slight shrug.
‘Your memory seems fine to me.’
‘When you’re my age you must expect the odd lapse. He might have told me. It’s possible.’
She was covering for him, Jimmy was sure of it. But how to get round it?
‘Did you tell him to stop moving the pictures?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘He explained that. He said he knew I didn’t want them moved so he didn’t tell me. But he feels that they really ought to be cleaned. Something about candle smoke in the convent chapel. And while they were out of the convent he thought it best to have them valued for insurance purposes. He felt I was being unfair to the Sisters in not having them insured. If anything happene
d to the Stations and it turned out they were indeed valuable the Sisters might he blamed. He said he didn’t want me worried about it so he didn’t tell me.’
‘Do you believe him?’
There was a pause. She was making up her mind which way she would go. All Jimmy could do was wait.
‘No. I think he was lying. I think he intends to remove the stolen paintings while the Stations are out of the convent, then he will get the Stations cleaned, valued and returned with no one the wiser.’
Jimmy could see the pain it was causing her to say it to a stranger, that her son was stealing from her. Still, now she’d decided which way she was going he had to get the whole story out of her, the true story.
‘Did you give him power of attorney?’
‘It was something we had talked about quite a lot. I am nearly ninety years old, how much time do I have left? If I died suddenly I wanted to be sure the pictures would be,’ she looked for the right words, ‘that they would continue to be taken care of as I would wish. I told my son I was considering power of attorney about twelve months ago. I asked my lawyer to draw up the papers.’
‘So he knew about them?’
‘Oh yes, in case they were needed.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘What can I do? He has power of attorney. Even if I could get to the convent, what difference would it make?’
‘You could revoke the papers.’
‘Assuming I could, which is a big assumption, the pictures would almost certainly be gone before it came into effect.’ She was right. The son and the Lawrence woman were going to get their bloody stolen art unless he could think of something and think of it damn soon. Now in fact. ‘What do you suggest I do, Mr Costello?’
‘I could stop him.’
‘Would that involve violence?’
‘Yes. If I put him in hospital that should stop things.’
He could see she didn’t like the idea but he hadn’t really expected her to. What mother would?
‘I must think about it, Mr Costello. I will try to see that the pictures do not leave the convent in the next couple of days. I will contact the Mother Superior tomorrow but the best I can hope for is a short delay. I will talk to my lawyer and do what I can. You understand I want no harm to come to my son. I do not want any…’