“Exactly. So you can my see my position, Jack. On the one hand I’ve got an art museum to protect and on the other a bunch of powerful people, not the least this Moulton, who see it as a honey pot that’s attracting thieves to the area and spoiling their oasis of calm and tranquility in leafy old Surrey. If the whole lot got stolen then the University, who run the place, might just decide to close it to the public and keep it solely for the college students. That would solve a lot of problems.”
“Look Bob, there are a few of the big gangs operating in the Greater London area, but Kingston and that University museum would be small beer to them. They go for the big collections. My guess is that you are looking at some minor thieves or an inside job; someone who sees selling stolen paintings as a chance to make a few easy quid. Or it could even be someone who has a grudge against the museum Director or the University and simply wants to cause trouble or even someone trying to pull an insurance scam.”
“Sounds as though our best chance of catching the thieves is after they’ve taken the paintings,” said Wilson.
“I think you’re right, Sergeant. Once they try to move them on then the private sector boys and the insurance companies get involved, and they’re highly motivated to track down the thieves since they get a percentage of the value of the paintings or whatever else they are hired to recover.”
Linham realised that they were not going to get much further and Wilson had a point. Besides, the lifeless office atmosphere was starting to get him down.
“Well look Jack, we shouldn’t take up any more of your time. I expect that you’ve got a lot to do now that you’re shorthanded. I appreciate your taking the time to give us the benefit of your expertise in this area. As I mentioned before, it’s not the sort of thing that we have to deal with very often in our little borough. Thanks for the tea and the chat. And of course it’s always good to touch bases.”
“No problem, Bob. It’s been good to see you. It won’t be the end of the world even if a couple of paintings do get stolen and some petty crooks make a few quid. At least nobody gets hurt and it moves the money around the economy a bit. Of course someone may get upset because he can’t show off his paintings to his wealthy friends, but at least the taxpayer is saved a lot of money and we can concentrate our efforts on catching the Al Qaeda’s of this world and try to stop them blowing up innocent people on their way to work, or catching those rich corporate guys that fiddle their tax returns and destroy the economy and people’s lives in the process. ‘A policeman’s lot is not a happy one’ as the tune goes in that Gilbert and Sullivan opera you and I saw once back in our training days; must be nearly 30 years ago now. Well keep in touch, and if I hear of anything happening upstairs with the Assistant Commissioner I’ll give you a shout.” With that Inspector Linham and Wilson made their way down to the austere surroundings of the foyer. The officer on duty just nodded and smiled as he buzzed them out.
On their way back to Kingston Wilson could see that his boss was troubled by what had been said at the meeting.
“You know what saddens me most, Wilson,” Linham blurted out. “Jack used to be one of the finest cops on the force. Now he seems to be missing the whole point of being a policeman. It’s our job to protect the public and enforce the law, or at least bring misdeeds to the attention of the prosecutors and the public. We can’t always prevent crime, although it would be nice to think we do in some cases. But at least we can collect evidence and track down the crooks when a crime has been perpetrated. It seems that Jack has gotten so demoralized by the bureaucracy and the budget cuts that have prevented him from carrying out his job to the high standards he used to be so proud of that he’s just about given up altogether. I think that the main thing to remember is not to be persuaded by people’s opinions as to what in the end is simply a difference in priorities. I hope I never find myself thinking that a little thieving in the community is no more than a stimulus to the economy. In the meantime we’ll keep an eye on Dorich House. I have a feeling in my bones that there is more going on there than meets the eye. And I personally think that Jack would be making a smart move if he got out of that depressing office, took his pension and set up his own art and antiques recovery agency. ”
“At least that way he could afford some decent tea, Sir,” replied Wilson.
***
Ralph found it strange not having to teach classes or mark assignments. Students still approached him asking for advice on their coursework and it seemed a lame excuse to tell them that he was on sabbatical. But he knew from his initial research that his working sabbatical was going to be more challenging than he had originally thought and that it wouldn’t be fair to the students – or to the projects he had lined up, to try and take on the mentoring of students at the same time. But right now he was in limbo and he knew that the sooner he could get out and start making contacts with people in the business and art world the easier it would be to say ‘no’ when students asked for his help.
His secretary Janice had helped him to sort out his travel plans and arrange some preliminary appointments. His initial research showed him just how steep of a learning curve he was likely to encounter. Even though he had had a smattering of art appreciation as an undergraduate at Cambridge, he had a long way to go if he expected to be conversant with real experts and collectors. So far he had read up on how the classical period in art was followed by the romantics and then the impressionists and such works as that of Jacques David, and Jean Ingres.
He decided that the saying ‘a little knowledge is dangerous’ might apply here. His best approach would be to leave the critique and analysis of works of art to the experts. His appreciation of art would have to remain purely subjective. He knew it was not a very academic stance, but it was probably an honest one.
As the light faded he made his way down to the college bar in the hope of meeting some of his colleagues and catching up on the latest gossip. There was quite a crowd already at the bar when he got there.
“Hi Ralph. What’s it like having taken early retirement? I guess you’ll be heading off to exotic places and leaving us poor buggers to carry the load. Lucky sod,” exclaimed Peter Cavendish. Ralph could see that Peter was already a few drinks ahead of the rest.
Peter was a close friend and colleague. He was famous worldwide for his expertise in medieval music, and almost as notorious for being a bit of a rake, although in recent years he had toned down his exploits with the ladies. At over six feet tall his patrician looks still commanded respect from his students. His wife Marcia had put up with his philandering up to a point, but eventually had presented him with an ultimatum that seemed to have made an impact. Marcia had enjoyed a successful career in modeling and was used to dealing with flamboyant in men. She put it down to their being immature and needing constant re-enforcement to their ego, but eventually enough was enough where her husband was concerned.
“Not so much of the swearing Peter, at least while some of us here are still sober; and there are ladies present,” said Ralph. Peter had a tendency to revert to barracks room slang after a few drinks unless someone stopped him. They were good friends and Ralph often tried to save him from his at times outlandish behavior. For his part, Peter viewed Ralph’s somewhat outdated views of appropriate behavior with affectionate tolerance.
“Look Ralph, I’ve been trying for years to get out of this place. I’ve had an offer to go to teach music in China and India next year, but I’m not sure if my stomach could handle it. I hear some species we spend thousands on as pets turn up on the dinner menu over there. Still, it would make a change from the constant groaning from students when I ask them to learn a piece or do some composing or orchestrate something.”
Peter had over the years taken to complaining openly about his lack of interest in teaching. The occasional brilliant student rekindled the passion that he once had for teaching music, but that was becoming more and more the exception rather than the rule. He found that more and more he was giving his students work t
hat was beyond their capabilities, and it worried him that he was starting to become petty and vindictive. That nagging voice that told him ‘time to step down’ got louder each semester. “Sorry, old chap. Tell us what this project is all about that Granger has let you off the teaching timetable to pursue.”
“I’ll be concentrating on getting some benefactors for the University and will start with Russia then Germany, Egypt, Israel, France and Italy,” said Ralph, in an attempt to inject a more upbeat note into the conversation. “My strategy is to get to know the art markets in those countries then find out who the investors and private collectors are. They’re the ones with the money and hopefully they’ll want to be associated with a modern University.”
“I expect old Granger will have a field day going over your travel expenses,” interjected Peter. Peter was not a fan of Rupert Granger, the Dean of the Business School. Granger was a Falstaffian character without the humour. And he ran his fiefdom based on a style perfected by Henry VIII, the Tudor monarch.
“Well it shouldn’t be too bad since the Birchen Foundation is funding the lion’s share of my travel expenses as well as for any research staff that I need,” said Ralph. “So that’s outside of any controls that Granger will try to impose.”
“You’ve set yourself quite a challenge there, Ralph,” said Sarah. I haven’t forgotten my promise to give you some of my contacts to get you started. Several of my old colleagues at Christie’s are active in Russia and Egypt. That should give you a start.”
Ralph was surprised to see Sarah at Gypsy Hill since she was based at the Knights Park campus. He was also surprised at how cooperative she was being. After his attempts to field the question on the value of art from the VC he had expected that she would try to keep clear in case an association with him spoiled her hard earned reputation. It was the way academics responded to what they saw as second rate minds; a characteristic which Ralph thought smacked of elitism and self-importance, apart from being simply downright rude.
“Thanks Sarah, that would be a great help,” he replied. I’d also like to talk to that friend of yours that you recommended for the re-valuation of the Dorich House paintings, just to see how things are done. That way I won’t look such a chump when I go to art galleries and museums.” He had deliberately made himself look vulnerable to Sarah so that she would not see him as a threat.
“Ivan is a very busy man so I can’t promise that he would have the time to see you. But I can let you have his email address and you can take it from there. But don’t expect too much from him. I heard that he’s been ill recently with some sort of heart problem. Look folks, I’ve got to rush. My husband is throwing a big dinner party tonight and although the caterers and my housekeeper do a good job, he does expect his wife to at least put in appearance,” she said with a light laugh. Ralph stood up as she prepared to leave. Peter stayed slumped in his comfortable seat acknowledging her exit with a desultory wave. The rest of the group was deep in conversation.
Lance Bains was engaged in a heated discussion with Jim Stocker and David Walker. Lance had been exposed for falsifying his CV a year earlier and was now working as a research assistant. He had arrived from New Zealand falsely stating that he held a PhD in marketing and had begun teaching at the University the previous year. Some members of the staff had checked with his college in New Zealand and discovered that he had a simple first degree. A quick denouement in front of the Dean had resulted in a demotion to his current post, but with a caveat that the University would fund his Masters and Doctorate at no personal cost. He was just thankful he hadn’t been thrown out on his ear although part of him still rankled.
“Look you guys I’m still smarting over the way some of my so called colleagues went behind my back to tell the Dean about my little deception. I was teaching to the right standard and getting good feedback from the students. I know what I did was wrong technically, but surely it’s the outcome that counts.” Lance was a big friendly New Zealander and popular among Ralph’s friends.
“Lance we agree with your sentiments, but the fact is the University relies on the public believing that we have tight standards and processes that meet national requirements,” said David. “It’s the same for doctors and lawyers. The public has to know that they have met certain standards.”
David Walker was Professor of Jurisprudence and a stickler for processes and rules.
“I had the same problem the other night at that dinner at Dorich House,” Ralph exclaimed. “Everyone was arguing that paintings had to be authenticated by a third party or group of experts before their true value could be determined even if the painting took your breath away.”
David seized the opportunity to push his pet peeve.
“Our students have a big problem when it comes to doing assignments using the internet as their source of information. They think that it’s okay to cut and paste from someone else’s work or a published paper without crediting their source. It’s plagiarism pure and simple but they argue that they were imitating the experts and don’t see why the University calls it cheating. In much the same way, some of those early painters were copying the techniques of the great masters to develop their skills. By putting in the odd flourish here and there they were effectively trying to fool the public into thinking the painting was done by one of the Masters. That means that they would have failed the plagiarism test according to University rules. So copying has always been the norm throughout the ages, at least in the art world.”
“Yes that’s right,” Ralph agreed, “There’s nothing wrong with using someone else’s work so long as you acknowledge your source. Then in some cases you can add your own touch to give it an original twist. Isn’t that what academic papers are all about?” Having made the outburst Ralph had mixed feelings. On the one hand he felt a bit pompous while on the other he was happy to have had the chance to tidy up some ideas about the valuation of paintings that had been troubling him. But his thoughts were soon jolted by Lance.
“My worry is who decides just who the experts are and what happens if they are proven wrong?” Lance argued.
“The establishment does a cover up job,” interjected Peter. “There’s no way anyone would be allowed to threaten its position even if it meant subverting the truth.”
“What a bunch of old and bitter cynics you have become,” David responded looking round at his friends. “I know you’re tired, but come on, let’s not knock every windmill down that we come across. After all, we signed up for personal values, morals and integrity when we became teachers and educators. You’re a mathematics man Jim, what are the odds that those paintings at Dorich House that Ralph is taking such a keen interest in represent what it says on the tin? Are they what they say they are?”
They all knew that Jim Stocker was a reformed gambler and had been involved in some near criminal activities at the college. He had had a big win at Monte Carlo a few years earlier using an App he had written for his IPhone. With it he had managed to beat the odds. But he had been severely cautioned, and all of that was now a thing of the past. These days he stuck to teaching Economics with a strong mathematical bias.
“Not a good question to ask an economist. You lot are always comparing my discipline to ‘a blind man in a dark cupboard trying to light a candle’ or something equally obnoxious. My guess is that if it came to the crunch you would all sell your grandmothers to save your own skins, or certainly consider it an option. It’s human nature. That chap you were telling us about, Ralph, the one who lent his paintings to Dorich House? I don’t know the chap, but I suspect that he didn’t get rich by always toeing the line. No disrespect to your old college pal intended.”
“None taken,” said Ralph. “I’m sure most people who make a lot of money tread a fine line and it’s no doubt heavily skewed by our individual beliefs.”
It was getting late and the bar tender was picking up empty glasses to make it clear that it was just about closing time. Ralph stood up to try and get their little group to thi
nk about moving.
“Okay I’m ready for home. I’ll give you a lift, Peter. I expect Marcia will be wondering where you’ve got to. See you soon, chaps, and good luck with your end of semester assignments and those exam board meetings. Remember to keep up the standards. As for me, I’ll be socializing with the rich and famous. At least if all goes to plan.” Everyone sighed and groaned at the picture that Ralph had jokingly painted.
As Ralph drove Peter home he shared some of his concerns about his new role. Peter was a good listener and suggested that Ralph try to enjoy the freedom that getting away from the college would bring.
“Why don’t you try to get Katie to help you out with some of the arrangements, Ralph? With the money that you are getting from the Foundation you can hire whomever you want to do your research. She’d be good at meeting all those people and her keen wit will stop you getting on your moral high horse. A lot of those characters will be sharp operators and you might need to lighten up a bit. Well, you know what I mean. You’ve been stuck in academia for so long now that you might need to knock some of the rust off.”
Katie had been Professor of Education at the University before a shooting incident over some hidden stache of jewels discovered hidden in Kenry House at the Gypsy Hill site of the University. It had resulted in her conviction for aggravated assault. Now that she had served her time at Holloway Women’s Prison she was looking for a job. Ralph had visited her regularly when she was incarcerated and admired her ability to maintain her optimism throughout. When he had last seen her he had promised to help her in any way he could. Obviously the University was not an option, but since his project was being funded by an outside foundation there was no reason he couldn’t hire her as a researcher.
The Dorich House Mystery (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 3) Page 3