Call to Witness

by Coleman, Spencer;

  He was surprised to see Julius amble over, his right arm in a sling, a bandage on his forehead. They were lucky to be alive.

  ‘How is Antonia?’ Michael asked.

  ‘They’ll keep her in hospital overnight, but she’ll be fine.’

  He had to say it: ‘Now that we know Lauren died in the fire, you can close the book at long last. Laburnum Farm is rightfully yours. Will you sell it?’

  ‘I guess. We certainly don’t intend to live in it.’

  ‘That’s understandable. It might be difficult to market, given the tragic circumstances of what happened there.’

  ‘We’ll sell at a massive discount. It’s still a desirable area…’

  Michael pondered. ‘What will happen to the twelve paintings by Patrick Porter?’

  ‘Thought you’d never ask,’ Julius said sheepishly. He shoved his left hand into his jeans pocket. ‘There aren’t twelve paintings anymore.’

  ‘I thought they were in storage?’

  ‘I have a legal claim, I also have the key to gain access to them.’ Julius shrugged. ‘I needed to live…’

  ‘So you sold them?’

  ‘Not all. I managed to secretly off-load three cheaply which kept us afloat, bearing in mind that it could have taken up to seven years to lay claim to the estate. We were broke. I then disposed of another three when my girlfriend and our daughter were threatened if we didn’t comply…’

  ‘By Maggie? She wanted the paintings?’

  ‘Yes. The threat came from our friend Theo. He was the go-between who bought the first paintings. It was only later that I made the connection with Maggie. She too needed money. She was on the run. That can be costly, so she came a’ calling using Theo as her front man and I was happy to sell to him.’

  ‘That’s why you mentioned the paintings in the hut.’

  ‘I had refused her the remainder of the paintings, and so she threatened to kidnap us. She was desperate for cash as she was about to have cosmetic surgery to alter her looks. We felt pressured and I knew what she was capable of . However, there was a problem…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘There were only eleven paintings in storage, and she accused me of holding back on her. That’s when she came to England, in search of revenge for the missing picture. Somehow, she fathomed out that someone else had taken it…before they went into safe-keeping. I knew nothing of this. Maggie was greedy, as if there was another driving force behind this quest, but I never got to the bottom of it. Perhaps we never will now…’

  Michael was startled by this story. The thief. His brain began to turn cogs, slowly. ‘Perhaps we never will,’ he repeated.

  Then Julius looked away for the last time.

  ***

  Michael packed his things at the hotel and headed for the airport, where he bought a new mobile from a kiosk and inserted his old SIM card. Thankfully, although the police investigation was ongoing, he was free to go home, courtesy of Agnes who had managed to smooth his departure by way of her brother’s help in the force. Michael had to sign the necessary paperwork to agree to return to Venice if further testimony was required. At the debriefing he learnt that Maggie had lured them to the fishermen’s hut with the intention of burning it down with all of them inside. She had constructed a bonfire of hay bales around the perimeter and as a diversion, she and Vladimir were going to send up a huge display of fireworks. No one would have been bothered about a simple bonfire on a faraway island. It would have been just entertainment for the passing boats.

  He killed time and bought a paperback by John Grisham and some mints and headed for the coffee bar. Out of the blue, Agnes phoned him at the departure terminal just as his flight was called. She wept… wept for forgiveness, and for the second chance she had been given with her family. She wept too for the end of their affair. He knew she had made the right decision, and was grateful that it was she who had the final courage to finish things. He, on the other hand, would have let things linger on…and caused even more damage.

  ‘Ciao,’ she said quietly. Then he was left holding the phone, with dreams of what might have been. Everything was a fucking mess. A fucking car crash of sorts, largely of his making. He was instrumental in all manner of destruction and death. The only redeeming feature was that Kara was now safe. Earlier, after activating his phone, he had spoken to Marcus…rather, he listened silently as Marcus tore into him with a tirade of non-stop abuse, with a final warning to keep out of their lives, once and for all. How many times had he heard that? This time he took it to heart. He got the gist of the story which was blunt enough for him: Kara was in safe hands again. In other words, butt out.

  He was shocked to then discover a text message from Martin Penny. It read:

  I’m back from the dead. Good work on Maggie. Theo is now otherwise detained. Permanently. MP

  Michael almost laughed: Permanently? He took this to read dead. Just like Maggie. It had a good ring to it. It was great having Martin alive and kicking once more.

  He stood in the queue as the flight boarded and let his mind wander. Beyond the torment of losing Agnes, he was privately pleased for himself in a smug way.

  He always had an angle to follow.

  This was it. He had decided, in a moment of madness, to make it up to her in a manner that was both bizarre and daring, as only he would think appropriate. After he had checked out of the hotel early, he vowed to do one last thing before catching his flight to London. He had the time and inclination. It would take just a half an hour for what he wanted to do, then he was gone from this country once and for all, he hoped. He decided to take a walk . He had a job to do.

  Sure enough, within the allotted time he completed his task and edged back alongside one of the narrow canals. He smiled, his overnight holdall heavier for the return journey than it was for the trip out. Usually this bag was just hand luggage for the flight (thus avoiding the queue at the check-out desk) but on this occasion it would go in the hold for added security. He didn’t want to attract customs. He found a local shop and bought a padlock, secured the bag and carried on with his solitary walk just like any other tourist. Then he stopped, glanced first to his left then to his right as his free hand tossed a set of keys (belonging to a certain house) into the murky water. He smiled as they sank without trace.

  He was quite positive that Theo Britton wouldn’t be in need of them again. He had a strong feeling about that.

  Then he took a taxi to the airport. Job done.

  ***

  The funeral of Ronald Frederick Wilson took place the following day. He was buried at Chiswick cemetery on a beautiful sunny morning, surrounded by all the friends who loved and cherished him. The chief mourners comprised, unsurprisingly, a group of over forty male friends and colleagues who gathered to show their respects, with just Kara, Gemma and Adele in attendance to break the gender ranks. His partner, Ronnie, led the service with great dignity. Michael read an effecting eulogy, reflecting on Ronald’s unswerving loyalty and professionalism to the gallery. The manner of his death was not spoken of, pending the police investigation which was still ongoing into his mysterious murder. An elite group now suspected the identity of the killer but her name was not mentioned. It still remained a strained situation, given that everyone was sidestepping recent history to avoid confrontation and accusations. Marcus wasn’t talking to Michael, he in turn was avoiding Marcus, with piggy in the middle Kara trying to keep the peace between them. Toby was angry with his father. Adele posed in delicate fashion, ignoring Michael and Kara, looking as usual the perfect victim for everyone to identify with. She wept, but they were cold, uncaring tears.

  After the service, Toby took charge of events, ushering those present to a nearby hotel for the customary wake.

  Beside the grave, Michael stood next to Kara as the mourners gradually dispersed, leaving them alone for a short respite. Marcus was fast approaching, looking for a fight.

  ‘You OK?’ Michael whispered to her.

  She smiled and nodded. �
�We’ll talk privately…but another time, eh?’ she managed to say before Marcus took her arm and marched her away to where her mother stood patiently cradling their baby.

  Terry then sidled over.

  ‘We need a stiff drink…and a serious chat,’ he said.

  Michael caught his eye and vowed to down a bottle or two, such was his sadness, pain and confusion as to why Ronald had to sacrifice his life for nothing. After all, what did Maggie have against him…this noble and innocent man? It made him question her intended motives, the sickness in her mind… Did she think he had the missing painting?

  He suddenly looked beyond Terry and caught sight of a man standing beside the church steps, in the shadow of the Norman tower.

  ‘We have a problem,’ Terry said, but he knew his friend wasn’t listening. He let it go for now. ‘You look like shit,’ Terry added, following Michael’s gaze. He didn’t recognise the stranger and had to ask: ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Feel like shit too,’ Michael replied. He patted his old friend on the shoulder. ‘We’ll talk soon enough.’ Then he made for the church entrance and stopped to greet the man.

  ‘So glad to see you in one piece,’ Michael said.

  ‘I could say the same thing,’ Martin Penny remarked.

  They shook hands and began a slow walk through the cemetery.

  Michael spoke first.

  ‘After you disappeared off the radar I thought it was your body pulled from the Thames.’

  ‘He was a close colleague of mine, who was working undercover for me. I was on to Maggie and she knew I was on to her, but she hadn’t seen me up close and personal. We were following her. Mitch had the idea to swap characters, including our clothes. We were the same build. That way I kept my identity secret, which allowed me to eventually latch on to Theo and track down Kara to the warehouse. I thought I had them exactly where I wanted…all under one roof. Then the police turned up in force and spoiled the party, much to my surprise. I had my day though.’

  ‘I saw the headline about a man found strangled on wasteland, near the kidnapping site. Theo had it coming; he was a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘I had proximity and chance…’

  ‘Story of our lives.’

  ‘Take the opportunity when it presents itself,’ Martin stated with obvious relish.

  ‘I was shocked when I found the Happy Birthday badge in her apartment…she left it as a trophy for me to find, as a warning of her power over me. If she could dispose of you, she could dispose of anyone. I naturally thought you were dead.’

  ‘Mitch paid the price, but it gave me a chance to find out who she was colluding with…one Theo Britton, a two-bit hoodlum with delusions of grandeur. Maggie had recruited him and they concocted the story of his inherited wealth, which was partly true, knowing it would suck you in and get you out of London. In truth, the criminal activities of the family were diminishing. They no longer had control over rival gangs, and their wealth was evaporating as well. Theo saw a way of making up his losses by stealing the last of the paintings by Patrick Porter from Julius and then sharing the profits with Maggie.’

  Michael cut in. ‘And Julius wasn’t playing hardball anymore?’

  ‘They pushed him too far. Theo was the go-between and eventually threatened to kill Antonia and her daughter if Julius didn’t comply with their demands. Julius had little choice but to do as he was instructed. The house in Venice did actually belong to Theo’s aging father, who had died the previous year, but had massive structural problems and would need to be sold at a big discount, which meant he would still be in debt. He certainly couldn’t afford the repairs. He owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and the paintings would have realised perhaps a million pounds or more...but then you knew that part already, I gather. He needed to settle debts fast and the house wasn’t the answer to his prayers. The paintings were…and he and Maggie wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  Michael knew that Martin was referring to his own spurious claim on the paintings when Lauren was alive, but he brushed it aside. Everyone knew about the business of others, it seemed. He deflected his guilt. ‘Julius told me about the threats, but he’s now free to claim his estate. There is no one to challenge him again…it’s all over, thank God. I’m tired.’ Michael shook his head. ‘I was dumbfounded to discover that Maggie was living directly above me…’

  Martin took up the story. ‘At first Theo and Maggie operated from a dingy flat above an Irish pub in Bermondsey, but later, by chance, discovered the apartment above you was empty and available to lease on a short-term let. It was too good an opportunity to miss, and allowed them to spy on you. I believe he rented it, paid the deposit in cash and Maggie moved in under an assumed name: Ms Byrne seems appropriate in hindsight, don’t you think? It was the perfect bolt-hole. That way they could monitor your every movement, first with a hidden camera and later by bugging your phone. They soon legged it when you got wind of what they were up to…’

  ‘Theo got me to Venice on the pretext of a mysterious and valuable painting which I was asked to value and sell for a fat commission. I foolishly fell for the hoax.’

  ‘And when you first failed to go over to Venice they had to change tack, and used Agnes as the bait.’

  ‘I was blinded by greed at first and saw a way to make serious money, but changed my mind. Then I wanted to protect Agnes…they were clever and knew I would respond.’

  ‘They had planned to separate you and Kara so that Maggie could deal with each of you in turn. Theo kidnapped Kara but he was unaware that I was still alive and on his trail. When you left for Italy I needed to keep under the radar so I elected to protect Kara and Marcus as a priority, as you had instructed at our first meeting. Good job I did.’

  ‘I’m very grateful…But why did Maggie want to kidnap Kara?’

  ‘One of the paintings from the collection at Laburnum Farm was missing. Maggie was convinced that Kara had it, and was going to sell privately to the highest bidder. She wanted it back.’

  ‘I don’t buy into that…’

  ‘Someone has it. Could it have been Ronald?’

  ‘No. If a painting by Patrick Porter had come onto the market I would have known about it. Besides, only three people had access to the…’

  Then he stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ Martin said. He was on a short fuse.

  ‘I need to think about this,’ Michael replied clumsily. A warning light flashed in his head.

  ‘Well, don’t take too long about it. People have died, including a great pal of mine. Your gratitude has a hollow sound, Michael. You’ve been a complete arsehole in this whole business, a loose cannon, and I nearly paid with my life as well. You tried to take the law into your own hands. Not for the first time, I should emphasise. I left you alone and reasoned that you could sort your own bloody mess out. Remember, I had your money but loyalty to the cause only stretches so far….’

  Michael glued on a wry smile. ‘Don’t hold back. And thanks…for nothing.’

  ‘I helped save Kara’s life. You owe Marcus too.’

  ‘I made mistakes. You and Marcus saved Kara, I know. And I hear that gentle Gemma has a story to tell as well. I underestimated her. Now it’s all over, thankfully.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Maggie didn’t kill Ronald Wilson.’

  ‘Then surely Theo or Vladimir…

  ‘At the time of his death, Maggie was being trailed closely by me and Theo was in Venice. Only later did they swap places. I elected to remain here and tag Theo. I left you to deal with Maggie…wasn’t I kind? I cannot be sure of his henchman’s whereabouts at the time but I assumed he was with Maggie in Venice, which indeed proved the case. Besides, the style of murder was not from his hand.’

  Michael’s blood ran cold as he muttered the dreaded word: ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Ronald didn’t have enemies…’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

&
nbsp; ‘But I do, is that what you are saying?’

  ‘The killing of Ronald was a marker put down by someone with a grudge against you. I think someone is trying to destroy not only your life but your business as well. They want to bring you down, and all those associated with you. This is clearly someone with an obsession bordering on insanity.’

  ‘Maggie is dead.’

  ‘I’m not talking about her. Who else do you know who has the heart of the devil? Because that’s who you are fighting against…’

  ‘Maggie is dead,’ Michael repeated. Then the image of Adele imprinted itself on his brain. The heart of the devil… But he refrained from mentioning her name out loud. She was a vengeful cow. He was suddenly angry and swore to take the law into his own hands…again. Would he ever learn? He faced Martin again. ‘We can recover from this, starting from now.’

  ‘My job is done, Michael. Be warned though. I wish you good luck for the future.’

  Then Martin Penny turned and walked from his life.

  ***

  The following days passed in a fog. Michael was perturbed to discover that Nick, the concierge at his block of flats, was off sick indefinitely. He had been replaced by an elderly man called Cyril, who didn’t know when Nick would be back on duty.

  Michael wanted to see the CCTV loop which Nick had told him about. It would have to wait. Dear old Cyril couldn’t even work the telephone entry system. Happy days…

  Toby took charge of the gallery and reopened to the public after the police agreed to his request. It was no longer a crime scene. Gemma reluctantly returned and gradually the routine of a working day resumed. An advert in the window for an experienced salesman was a poignant reminder of the sad loss of Ronald.

  Michael took a few days off to recover from his ordeal at the hands of Maggie. On the third day he contacted Kara by phone and they agreed to meet secretly in the afternoon at Hyde Park, near the Serpentine. It was a breezy day, low cloud matching their mood. Michael saw Kara pushing her pram beside the lake, a proud woman stopping to feed the geese like a hundred other mothers do on the same mission with their excited children. He felt awkward approaching her but was happy to find her doing normal everyday things once again, without any fear hanging over her head.