Old Cases New Colours (A Dudley Green Investigation) (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 9)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘How did you pay it?’

  ‘I took in a lodger. Her rent paid the arrears and I was straight by the time Dad came home.’

  ‘And how did you meet, Charles?’

  ‘That’s the part of my life you wouldn’t believe. The chief magistrate was the father of the boy from the shooting stall at the fair all those years before. The boy was waiting outside for his father, saw me coming out of court and stopped me and said hello. I was then the age that he was when we first met. I didn’t recognise him until he asked me if I still had the teddy bear he’d won for me at the fair shooting ducks. I almost cried there and then. Of course I still had it. How on earth he recognised me I don’t know. He took me for a cup of tea and we talked for ages.’

  ‘Was it love at first sight?’

  ‘Charles said for him it was. He said he’d never forgotten the scruffy teenage girl at the fair. He said he put the change the man had given him at the duck stall in his left pocket so I could take it. He said he didn’t want me to steal from anyone else in case I got caught.’

  ‘That was lovely.’

  ‘I suppose he felt sorry for me. He didn’t say he did, but he’s told me since that…’ Priscilla laughed. ‘I’m embarrassed to say it.’

  ‘You can’t stop now. Come on,’ Ena said, ‘it’s a lovely story.’

  ‘He said he was fascinated by me and that he had probably fallen in love with me when he saw me at the fair, but I was too young. He said, he often thought about the pretty girl who stole his money.’ Priscilla laughed again and said, ‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ena was fascinated by Priscilla and overwhelmed by her honesty. ‘What did Charles do for a job when you met him again outside the court?’

  ‘He was at university. His dream was to be a defence lawyer. He’d have made a good one too. He understands people, always sees the good in them. He’d probably be a judge by now if it wasn’t for me.’ Priscilla’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘I have a Police record from my pick-pocketing days, so he joined his father’s insurance firm. He says he doesn’t care that he gave up the law, but I care.’ Priscilla looked down at her wedding ring. ‘I know I can be an embarrassment, but he refutes that. He says I keep him young. Poor Charles. He gives me anything I want. If I see something I like, he buys it for my birthday, or for Christmas.’ An impish grin crossed Priscilla’s face and her eyes began to sparkle. ‘If I take something without paying for it, Charles either goes to the shop and buys it for me, or he returns the item. I’m well known in Regent Street and so is Charles. The shops I go to have his telephone number, and it’s because he’s such a respected man that shop owners don’t embarrass me by accusing me of stealing. Instead, they telephone Charles.’ Priscilla shrugged her shoulders. ‘I wish I didn’t steal things.’

  ‘So why do you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Some people steal for the fun of it, the excitement, the thrill of getting away with it. I expect that was me once. Now it’s a case of old habits die hard.’

  Ena shook her head. Not from disgust, but because she didn’t understand why someone with so much – and with so much to lose – would do something like that.

  ‘I can see you’re shocked. I’m sorry, Ena. I could say I steal because I didn’t have anything when I was a child, which is true, I didn’t, but that would be an excuse. Charles thinks I have a psychological problem.’

  Kleptomania, Ena thought, but didn’t say.

  ‘I hope you’ll forgive me, Ena. I don’t want my unfortunate habit to spoil our friendship.’

  ‘It won’t, I promise. I don’t judge anyone, especially if I like them.’

  Priscilla beamed Ena a smile. ‘I like you too, but now I want to ask you something. I’ve been totally honest with you, so you must be with me.’

  Ena nodded. ‘Ask away.’

  ‘Why did you really accept my invitation to lunch today?’

  Ena didn’t answer immediately, but decided that since Priscilla had been honest with her, she would be honest in return. ‘At first, but only fleetingly, I wondered if you might know something about the Hogarth that went missing from The Savoy and then mysteriously turned up at Bow Street Police Station. But I promise it was only for a second.’

  Priscilla played with the brooch on her lapel. ‘And that’s because you saw me take the Gilou Donat from the display cabinet on preview night at La Galerie Unique?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I put it back.’

  Ena laughed. ‘Yes, you did. I was astonished – and I felt a fool when the brooch I’d seen you take out of the cabinet was suddenly back in its place when Giselle Aubrey went to look. It made me wonder how you’d opened the cabinet to take out the Donat and how, when you put it back, you had locked it.’

  Priscilla laughed. ‘That’s easy. I told you on the night we had dinner at The Savoy that ordinary cabinets don’t have individually cut keys. The display cabinet at La Galerie Unique didn’t. Any old key would fit it. Charles’ bureau key would have fitted it; my china cabinet key did fit it.’

  ‘Maisie’s china cabinet key!’ Ena said, more to herself than to her companion. ‘Priscilla, you’ve just solved a problem for me.’

  ‘Anything you can share?’

  ‘I would, but it’s neither interesting nor important. You’ve tied up a loose end on a theft case I’ve been working on.’ Ena lifted her glass. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know why I put the Donat brooch back?’

  ‘Yes, of course, why did you?’

  ‘Because I knew you had seen me take it.’

  ‘Touché!’ Ena pulled a silly face. ‘Mmm… better learn to be more discreet in my detection work in future.’

  ‘You need a poker face, like this.’ Priscilla made a thin line of her mouth and looked into the mid-distance, her eyes staring and emotionless. She couldn’t hold the pose for long, laughed out loud again and said, ‘Shall we go?’

  ‘What about the bill?’

  ‘Shush!’ She looked around. ‘I never pay bills. Follow me,’ she said conspiratorially. ‘We’ll pretend we’re going to the Ladies’ lavatory and then sneak out of the back door. Come on.’ Again, Priscilla couldn’t keep up the pretence and laughing loudly, called the waiter, ‘René will put that splendid lunch on Charles’ account.’

  ‘Of course, Mrs Galbraith,’ René said, pulling out Priscilla’s chair for her to stand, before doing the same for Ena.

  Ena had been holding her breath. Relieved, she blew out her cheeks and laughing, followed Priscilla out of the restaurant.

  While they waited for a taxi, Ena promised Priscilla that she and Henry would dine with her and Charles again. ‘Next time we will invite you,’ Ena said, to which Priscilla agreed. When a black cab came into sight, Ena flagged it down and Priscilla climbed into the back seat. After waving her friend goodbye, Ena set off at a brisk pace to the office.

  Looking in the shop windows it seemed to Ena that every day there was another clothes shop in Leicester Square and Covent Garden. She stopped briefly to window shop as she passed by, noticing that the fashion was for skirts to be shorter. She spotted a beautiful dress and matching jacket in soft pink and wished she was brave enough to wear a skirt that short. In the next shop, window dressers were changing sleeveless summer dresses and sandals for autumn designs – dresses and skirts in orange, russet reds and greens. Jackets and coats in heavier fabrics and knee-high fashion boots.

  It was still July, albeit the end of the month, but there was plenty of summer left and it was likely there would be a summer sale. Ena made a mental note to pop back to the shop the following week. Her wardrobe was dated, and besides, she needed to look smart in her job.

  Ena was watching the window dressers taking summer clothes out of the window when loud music caught her attention. She glanced across the street to where a new coffee bar had recently opened and almost fell down the pavement in shock.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


  From a nearby doorway, she watched Louis Mantel, Giselle Aubrey’s American sponsor at La Galerie Unique, arguing with an older man. Louis took a wad of notes from his pocket and offered it to the man, who pushed Louis’ hand holding the money away and began to walk off. Louis quickly followed, grabbed the man by the arm and swung him round. The older man put up his hands as if to surrender. Louis pointed to the door of the café and the older man turned and went in. Louis followed.

  Ena could no longer see them. She ran across the road to the telephone box, put in a handful of coins and dialled the number of the office. ‘Come on, Artie,’ she said, impatiently.

  ‘Dudley Green Associates. Can I help you?’

  ‘Artie, it’s Ena.’ She didn’t wait for him to reply. ‘Is your camera in the office?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Grab it and meet me at the top of Slingsby Street.’ Ena put down the telephone and walked the short distance back to the top of the street. She’d only been on the telephone for a couple of minutes and was sure that Louis and his companion would still be in the café. She looked along Long Acre and then at her wristwatch. It should only have taken Artie five minutes to lock up and get to her, yet ten minutes had passed. Where the hell –? She scanned the road again, impatiently, and was pleased to see Artie running towards her.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, trying to regain his breath.

  ‘Louis Mantel, Giselle Aubrey’s sponsor from the art gallery and another man were arguing outside the café. Mantel offered the man money. He refused to take it and started to leave, but Mantel caught up with him and said something that made the man change his mind. They’re both in the café.’

  ‘And you want me to do a bit of eavesdropping?’

  ‘Yes. I’d do it myself, but Mantel knows me from the gallery’s preview night. Have you got your camera?’

  Artie tapped his document case.

  ‘Good. Mantel’s medium height, mid-thirties, long hair, with a loud American accent. I should think you’ll hear him before you see him. The other man is around fifty and a bigger build. I’ll see you back at the office.’

  Ena watched Artie saunter along the street and pass the café. At Slingsby Place, he crossed the street and walked back on the opposite pavement. As he neared the café, he turned left and disappeared under an arch leading to a cobbled courtyard where vehicles parked when they delivered goods to the offices and cafés on Mercer Street.

  Ena didn’t have to wait long before he reappeared, strolled across the street and went into the café. Two girls, loaded down with bags from clothes and shoe shops on Oxford Street, followed Artie, as did a man and woman. Ena was itching to walk past the café window to see if she could spot Mantel and his companion, but she thought better of it.

  There was no telling how long Artie would be. From the archway he’d probably taken photographs of the two men if they were sitting near the window. She hoped Artie was able to hear the conversation between Mantel and the older man now he was inside the café but that depended on how busy it was and whether there were any unoccupied seats near them. However, Artie was experienced in surveillance. He’d been successful working on more difficult and more dangerous cases for the Home Office. More recently he had unearthed the truth in the Doreen Hardy investigation through surveillance. ‘So,’ Ena said, aloud, ‘leave it to him,’ and she walked back to the office.

  From the top of Mercer Street, Ena spotted Inspector Powell’s black Wolseley parked next to her Sunbeam. She quickened her pace and arriving at the car tapped the driver’s window. ‘No WPC Jarvis to chauffeur you today?’ she joked, as the inspector got out of the car. Ena knew Constable Jarvis wouldn’t be driving the inspector if he’d come to impart information about La Galerie Unique, or one of the people involved with the gallery. She unlocked the outer door and crossed the foyer to the office. ‘Come in, Inspector.’ She ushered him in and went through to the kitchen. ‘Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee, thanks,’ the inspector replied.

  When Ena returned with two steaming cups of strong coffee, Inspector Powell was seated at her desk. Using the blotter as a mat, she put both cups down, walked over to the filing cabinet, unlocked it and took out a buff-coloured file titled ‘Gallery Profiles’. Returning to her chair she picked up her coffee and with both cups removed from the blotter she laid the file on it, before taking out several sheets of paper and handing them to the inspector.

  ‘This is who I met on the night of the preview – and who I think could be involved in the art thefts. And this page is just my opinion of them, a kind of overview if you like. Read it with pleasure, but my opinion has changed since I wrote it.’

  She drank her coffee while the inspector read her findings. ‘Not a lot there that you don’t already know,’ she said when he had finished. ‘However,’ she said, her face lighting up. ‘I have two interesting events to add. One, I’ve just had lunch with someone who was at the gallery on preview night. Her name’s Priscilla Galbraith.’

  The inspector looked up from the papers with surprise. ‘The wife of Charles Galbraith whose company insures La Galerie Unique?’ Ena nodded. ‘And the other event?’

  ‘My gut feel was that there was something untoward about Louis Mantel.’ Ena took a box of cigarettes from her drawer, lit one and pushed the packet across the desk to the inspector. ‘And I was right. Walking back to the office after lunch, I happened to glance down Slingsby Street and saw two men arguing. One of them was Louis Mantel, Giselle Aubrey’s sponsor at La Galerie Unique. They were having quite a barney. Mantel gave the man money, which the man refused. He shoved the money back at Mantel and began to leave but Mantel grabbed him and after some discourse, they both went into the café. You know the one, it’s opposite the cobbled courtyard.’

  DI Powell nodded. ‘Damn shame you couldn’t have gone into the café and listened to their conversation, but Mantel would have recognised you.’

  ‘There was no need for me to go in, I telephoned Artie and he’s there now. Plus, he has a camera. He won’t be able to take any snaps inside the café, it would look suspicious, but before he went in he ducked under the arch opposite the café. He’ll have taken photographs from there so hopefully we’ll be able to identify the man with Mantel when the film’s developed. Do you have any news about the art thefts?’

  ‘Nothing that helps this case.’ The inspector looked again at Ena’s notes and began to laugh.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You say here that people of interest in the art thefts are Priscilla question-mark and her husband.’

  ‘I did, but not anymore. If you read on, you’ll see that Henry and I had dinner with Priscilla and Charles, during which I changed my mind. And, after spending time with her today I’m a hundred per cent certain they have nothing to do with The Savoy theft or any other thefts.

  ‘Whoever is at the top of this one is powerful, but it isn’t Charles Galbraith.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The sound of the street door opening and slamming shut halted the conversation. Ena and Inspector Powell turned at the same time to see Artie come crashing into the office out of breath and smiling like the proverbial cat that got the cream.

  He flopped into his chair, put his briefcase on the top of his desk and rolled his shoulders.

  ‘What happened? Did you take any photographs?’

  ‘Oh yes, several from the street. The two men were sitting near the window. I got them both full-face. I went in, ordered a coffee and sat at the table next to them. I heard everything.’

  Ena and the inspector turned their chairs to face Artie. ‘Who was the older man?’

  ‘The night security guard.’

  ‘Are you sure? He wasn’t on duty the night Henry and I were there. But then if he worked through the night he wouldn’t necessarily be working when the gallery was open.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Inspector Powell repeated Ena’s question.

  ‘Of course!’ Artie rolled his eyes.
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br />   ‘Go on, Artie.’

  Artie consulted his notes. ‘The security guard’s name is Selwyn Horton.’

  ‘He’s an ex-copper.’

  ‘I heard him say he hadn’t signed up for trouble.’

  ‘So is Horton working for Mantel?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Artie consulted his notes again. ‘Mantel sounded worried, nervy. He said something like, “That’s why you weren’t there,” and Horton replied, “I don’t skive on the job. You know why I had to go.” Mantel then said, “Yeah, sorry about that. My man was too enthusiastic. I’ve offered you compensation. Selwyn, old buddy, my advice to you is take the money and keep your mouth shut about last night.” Then the café door opened and a tall bloke, black hair, built like the proverbial brick outhouse came in and sat at a table at the rear of the café. I didn’t take much notice of him and don’t think Mantel or Horton saw him. I glanced at him a couple of times and each time he was watching Mantel. Anyway, Mantel said, “You did the right thing not calling the Police. As far as you’re concerned nothing was stolen.” Horton’s mouth dropped open. He looked shocked and said, “But nothing was stolen, was it?” Mantel laughed and said, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you, but what you do know could get you killed. The people I work for aren’t the kind of people you mess with, okay? If they thought you couldn’t be trusted, you wouldn’t be around long enough to spend this.” With that he placed a wad of notes on the table and covered them with a newspaper.’