A Fatal Façade

by Linda M. James

  not now

  Jack hugged her hard; why was life so appalling for her and so easy for other people? He couldn’t make any sense of the world at all. His Lucy had been bright and bubbly and kind, so why her? Why his lovely girl? Jack wanted to scream.

  She tapped on her lap-top. Jack leant back to see what she was typing.

  self pity sorry what if he had something she wanted and wouldn’t give it 2 her

  ‘Christ, Luc. That’s a bit of a long shot. It could be anything,’ Jack said, then suddenly he had an image of Angelica Logan standing under an elder tree fingering a rosary. ‘You could be right. They’re both Catholics. What if Paolo Cellini had some religious icon Angelica Logan desperately wanted.’

  enough 2 kill 4?

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what I’ve got to find out.’

  go 4 it jack!

  ‘I will, Luc. I promise. When your parents come back with Tom, I’ll go to see Mrs. M and try to get into Cellini’s apartment.’

  An hour later, Jack was driving through the heavy Christmas traffic towards Mrs. M’s apartment trying to think what religious icon was so valuable that it might make a beautiful Catholic like Angelica Logan desperate enough to kill a lover. The problem was, although Jack loved art, his knowledge of religious icons wasn’t specialized enough. Trying to find the answer would be like trying to find an unknown religious icon in a Catholic Cathedral. And even if he did find it, the only proof that would give him was Angelica Logan was a thief, not that she was a killer. It seemed hopeless.

  Mrs. M sat on her large settee, stunned by Jack’s news.

  ‘Well, this is turning out to be a Christmas I’ll never forgot. Paolo was having an affair with one of the most virginal women I’ve ever met and now you’re telling me you think she killed him by changing his medication. You really think Angelica Logan capable of murder just to get a religious icon, Jack? It’s unbelievable. She’s such a lovely woman.’

  ‘I don’t know what she’s capable of, Mrs. M. I’ve never met her, but I’ve met a few charming killers in the past. History is littered with people being amazed by what people are capable of. And I don’t know how important the religious icon was to her.’

  ‘I’m having another Whisky Mac, Jack. Do you want one?’

  ‘A small one, Mrs. M. Still got to drive home. I’ll get them.’ Jack got up and poured them some drinks while Mrs. M stared into the distance.

  ‘I can’t imagine anyone killing for a statue,’ she said at last.

  Jack turned to her, stunned. ‘You must be clairvoyant, Mrs. M.’

  ‘I’ve been called many things by many men, Jack, but never clairvoyant. What have I said?’

  Jack gave her a large Whisky Mac and sat down. He couldn’t talk to her about the drug smuggling that Jamila was working on. She was bound to mention it in passing with someone she met. ‘You triggered an association of ideas in my head. They might be useful.’

  ‘Don’t clam up on me, Jack. I need a little excitement in my life.’

  Jack smiled at her. ‘I think you’ve had a life-time of excitement. You need to relax now.’

  ‘Rubbish! I’ll relax when I’m in my coffin and not before. You think that Paolo had a statue in his apartment that was vitally important to Angelica?’

  ‘Yes. Have you still got the key to Cellini’s apartment, Mrs. M?’

  ‘Isn’t that breaking and entering, Jack?’

  Jack smiled at her. ‘Not with a key it isn’t.’

  Mrs. M reached for her stick and got up. ‘Come on, what are we waiting for?’

  Five minutes later they were roaming around Cellini’s apartment looking at all his religious icons.

  They wandered around for some time. ‘Do you know what I find odd, Jack?’ Mrs. M said, as she studied the large triptych that Jack hated covering one wall. ‘There are no images of Jesus at all. He obviously wasn’t interested in him.’

  ‘Do you remember what Paolo said the night a crate was delivered to him?’

  ‘Well, it’s fading fast but something about having bought something that God would have wanted if he had the money, then something in Italian.’

  ‘Can you remember what? It could be important.’

  Mrs. M sat down on one of Paolo’s settees and closed her eyes, then put a finger over her mouth in a gesture to silence Jack as she thought.

  At last she said. ‘It was something like La Regina Nera. Regina is queen, isn’t it?’

  ‘And Nera means black. The Black Queen. You’re brilliant, Mrs. M. Thank God for your memory.’

  Mrs. M frowned at him. ‘You mean you’re looking for a chess piece?’

  Jack stared at Mrs. M for such a long time that she said: ‘Have I got something on my nose, Jack?’

  ‘No, I’m thinking. Paolo collected religious icons so I think that The Black Queen must be another way of saying The Black Madonna.’ Suddenly Jack’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘There’s no Black Madonna here so if I can find it in Angelica Logan’s house, I think we have the motive for killing Paolo Cellini. There’s another reason why I need to find the statue but I can’t tell you yet. It’s linked to a big operation the Met are working on.’

  ‘I won’t tell a soul, Jack you can trust me.’

  Jack smiled at her and shook his head. ‘I can’t, but there’s something I’d like you to do, Mrs. M. It’s important.’ She looked excited until he continued: I’d like you to come with me to Angelica Logan’s house and introduce me.’

  The light died from Mrs. Montgomery’s eyes. ‘Oh dear…“Stir not murky waters if you know not the depth or the creatures that dwell beneath the surface.”’

  CHAPTER 30

  8th December 2012

  Angelica knelt before the Black Madonna knowing what she was asking her was impossible; she wanted forgiveness for all her sins and she had committed so many. Tears ran down her face. But as she looked up at the Madonna’s face, she saw that she wanted to forgive her.

  ‘Forgive me my sins, Holy Mary; forgive me the sins of my youth and the sins of my age, the sins of my soul and the sins of my body, my secret and my whispering sins, the sins I have done to please myself and the sins I have done to please others. Forgive those sins which I know, and the sins which I know not; forgive them, Holy Mary, forgive them all of Thy great goodness. Amen.’

  Angelica had repeated the prayer many times before the front doorbell rang. She carried on praying; she couldn’t be disturbed when she prayed. Someone started banging on the door; she continued praying. It went silent. Then suddenly there was a loud banging on the French doors in the dining room. She couldn’t ignore it. She took out her mobile as she crept out of the prayer-room and peeped through the open doorway into the dining room; a small tough-looking Filipino man was standing in the garden holding up a large piece of paper to the glass. Angelica was terrified; the man looked frightening, but she wanted to know what was written on the piece of paper he was holding. She held her mobile to her ear as she crept forward so that she could phone Mark at any minute. When the man saw her, he shook his head and gestured towards the piece of paper and mouthed important to her. Although her heart was racing in fear, she moved towards the French windows, thankful that they were triple-glazed and alarmed. He couldn’t touch her in here. Then she read what he had written and groaned loudly. I SAW YOU HIT THE BOY. I WANT MONEY.

  He gestured for her to open the French doors. Angelica gestured towards the front door; she wasn’t going to let him in here; it was too close to her prayer-room and her shrine to the Holy Mother. She kept chanting her Hail Marys as she dragged herself towards the front door, thinking she might faint before she could open it. How could she cope with this situation? She opened the door with the heavy chain across it. There he stood, smiling coldly at her; she shuddered.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Logan.’ He studied her. ‘A very clever disguise. The hooker and the housewife. Open the door please.’

  Angelica undid the chain with shaking fingers. How did he know? He
r mouth felt full of chalk; she couldn’t swallow.

  ‘You want to know how I found you?’ The man laughed. The sound was appalling. ‘You shouldn’t have a customized car plate if you want to be anonymous, Mrs. Logan. I saw your car parked outside Mr. Cellini’s art gallery one day and asked the manager who you were. At first, I thought the hooker must have stolen it, but then I realized Mr. Cellini liked games. I like games too, especially if I can’t lose. I want £10,000 to keep quiet and I want it now.’

  Angelica stared at him in horror and whispered. ‘I don’t keep large sums of money in the house.’

  ‘How much have you got?’ Rico said, giving her a friendly smile. ‘I’ll wait here until you get it.’

  Angelica had to sit down on one of the hall chairs before she collapsed. ‘Only about £50.’

  ‘Then we’ll go to your bank and you’ll withdraw £10,000. If not, I’ll go to the police. Isn’t your husband’s newspaper running a big campaign to catch the hit-and-run driver? Imagine his surprise when he realizes that he’s been after his wife all along and she’s having an affair with a playboy. You can imagine the headlines in all the papers, can’t you?’ Rico started to laugh as if he had made a joke.

  Angelica held on the chair as the hall swayed around her. This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her.

  ‘Don’t pretend you’re ill, Mrs. Logan. It’ll only annoy me. Now get your coat on. We’re going for a drive.’

  Angelica drove down Hampstead High Street on automatic pilot. She had enough money in the bank, but she knew he’d come back for more and there was nothing she could do about it. How could she stop Mark finding out? She stopped the car near the bank, put some money in the meter and walked on trembling legs into the bank.

  Rico waited for her in the car; knowing he had a meal ticket for life. It was wonderful. Soon he wouldn’t have to hide in an old basement anymore in case they found him. He could leave the country and disappear. No one knew where his family lived in the Philippines, but he still wasn’t going home until He was certain the gang couldn’t find him. He and Bianca could live together on an island somewhere remote and neither of them would ever have to work again if they didn’t want to. He felt relaxed for the first time since he’d been involved with Cellini. It was a good feeling. Five minutes later Angelica Logan walked back towards him; she was certainly a beautiful woman, he thought, but too thin and icy for him; he liked warm women with meat on their bones. She got in the car and gave him a large envelope with a trembling hand.

  ‘I won’t check it, Mrs. Logan. I trust you. Now I’d be grateful if you could drive me back. So much nicer than going on a crowded tube. I hope that’s okay with you.’

  Angelica started the car without saying a word.

  Rico sat back in the luxurious car and thought how incredible life was; two days ago he was in deep shit, now he had a good income for the rest of his life and he didn’t have to work for it; he hadn’t felt this happy for a long time.

  CHAPTER 31

  19th December 2012

  Jack had been at the Blue Notes club for an hour, listening to Bianca sing; she was good. The atmosphere at the club had completely changed from his last visit; it was vibrant. Bianca seemed to be coping with Cellini’s death much better, he thought, as she finished her number and smiled at the audience. Everyone clapped enthusiastically. He looked around for the manager, but there was no sign of him.

  Suddenly, she was sitting at his table with a large drink in her hand, looking at him questioningly. ‘So – what did you find out?’

  ‘Stella is a Mara-Hari figure: a hooker and a woman called Angelica Logan.’

  Bianca’s glass smashed onto the floor. She didn’t speak for a few moments. The mess was cleaned up within seconds. Jack wished that the Met was that efficient; desks had been littered with rubbish for days when he worked there. Pierre, the barman brought her another whisky.

  Bianca smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Pierre.’

  She suddenly looked at Jack and started laughing. ‘Jesus! Why didn’t I see it at school?’

  Jack frowned at her. ‘What?’

  ‘No one could believe that she was a nymphomaniac because she looked like the Madonna.’

  So that’s why she liked transforming herself to have sex, Jack thought. ‘I think she switched Paolo Cellini’s heart tablets.’

  Bianca’s eyes opened wide and she went very still. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No, but I’m trying to prove it. Where’s the manager?’

  Bianca looked at him, puzzled by the change in conversation. ‘He’s ill. Not been in for days. Why?’

  ‘I just wanted to ask him what he was doing in Angelica Logan’s car a couple of days ago.’

  Bianca’s jaw dropped. ‘Rico wouldn’t go with that bitch!’

  ‘I don’t think he was having sex with her, I think he was blackmailing her about her affair with Cellini.’

  Bianca suddenly smiled at him. ‘Good. I hope he drains her for every million she’s got.’

  ‘Blackmail’s illegal, Bianca.’

  ‘So is murder. She deserves to suffer. She almost destroyed my life, Jack. I was expelled from the convent because she lied about me. My parents never recovered from the shame and died believing her lies. You know how bad that was?’

  Jack suddenly understood why she had likened Angelica Logan to deadly nightshade. ‘But you turned your life around. You’re a great singer. What has she got compared to you now?’

  Bianca smiled at him. ‘So perhaps there is justice, after all, Jack.’

  Jack looked away from her, thinking of Lucy. ‘Not for everyone, there isn’t.’

  She leaned over and touched his hand. ‘Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.’

  ‘How important do you think a statue of the Black Madonna would be to Angelica Logan?’

  Bianca looked at him, startled. ‘Very. We had a Black Madonna in our convent chapel. La Regina Nera del Cielo. The Black Queen of Heaven. The nuns thought Angelica was the most pious girl in the school. She was always praying to her.’

  Jack smiled; another small piece of puzzle was slotting into place. ‘Thanks, Bianca. That’s very helpful. Sorry I can’t stay for your second half. Another time.’ He got up to leave.

  ‘Don’t forget, Jack. I’ll be waiting.’ She smiled up at him.

  CHAPTER 32

  20th December 2012

  Jack was driving Lucy and Mrs. M down Hampstead High Street which was garlanded with Christmas lights. Lucy wanted to go so that she could see how good Angelica Logan was at lying. There was silence in the car, then Mrs. M burst into embarrassed conversation, but the moment Jack mentioned how much Lucy loved the theater, Mrs. M was in her element, regaling stories from her heady actress days. Jack glanced at Lucy; he could have sworn that he had seen her smile when Mrs. M told them about her first boyfriend who opened the wrong door in a fringe production and had brought the entire set down onto the actors. The worst thing about it, Mrs. M said, it was supposed to be a tragedy. Jack laughed. The newspapers wrote that it was the most amusing tragedy ever written. Lucy typed questions to her about all the actors she’d worked for and soon the car was buzzing with energy. They were all surprised when Jack turned into the Logan drive and stopped.

  ‘Oh dear, I don’t think I’m up to this, Jack.’

  Jack turned around to her in surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard her sound nervous. ‘Rubbish, Mrs. M, you’ve just been entertaining us with all those acting stories – how difficult is it to act the part of a woman who’s suddenly been taken ill? Don’t forget we have Lucy as back-up.’ Jack smiled at his wife. ‘Sorry, Luc. You know what I mean. I’ll get Lucy’s wheelchair and off we go.’

  ‘She might not be in, Mrs. Bradley,’ Mrs. M said, hopefully as Jack opened the boot.

  Lucy typed police watching house she’s there

  ‘This sounds like a big operation,’ Mrs. M said in excitement.

  it is Lucy typed
just before Jack opened the door and put her into her chair. ‘Don’t forget to call her Lucy, Mrs. M.’

  ‘And don’t forget I’m Margaret, Jack, not Mrs. M.’ He smiled at her as they approached the front door.

  They listened to the melodic chimes resonating through the house accompanied by the sound of Mrs. M’s deep breathing to steady her nerves.

  ‘Lean against me, Mrs.-Margaret,’ Jack said quickly as the door opened and a very pale Angelica Logan looked at the trio in surprise.

  ‘I’m so sorry to bother you, Angelica, but…’ she groaned as if she couldn’t continue.

  ‘She needs water for her medication.’ Jack looked at Angelica’s worried face; she obviously didn’t want them in her house, but she didn’t know how to refuse them. She glanced down at Lucy and tried to disguise her shock.

  ‘Of course. Come in. Do you need help?’ she said to Lucy.

  Lucy blinked at her twice. ‘The wheelchair is motorized,’ Jack said as he helped Mrs. M over the threshold. She was now so much in role that she was groaning loudly as if near death. Jack raised his eyebrows at her and she moderated her agony. Lucy followed them into the hallway, noticing every expensive item of furniture there; every antique chair and carpet.

  ‘Can you manage to walk into the lounge, Margaret, while I get the water?’ Angelica said as she hurried into the kitchen.

  Mrs. M staggered into the lounge and collapsed into the nearest chair as Angelica hurried back with a glass of water. Looking like a fish out of water, she gesticulated to Jack to get her tablets out of her bag. The room was full of tension as they watched him frantically get the tablets and give some to her. She swallowed them, gulped back the water gratefully, then closed her eyes to recover. Jack suppressed a smile; she must have been a good actress.

  ‘We’re sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Logan, but Margaret told me that you lived nearby before she felt ill.’ He desperately hoped she wouldn’t remember that she’d never given Mrs. M her address.