A Trick of the Light

by Ali Carter

  ‘I bet I will.’

  George took a glug of wine and I realised I’d forgotten to eat pudding. I put a teaspoonful in my mouth.

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it,’ she said.

  ‘Sure is.’

  I glanced up the table. Lavender gave me the happiest grin as if to say, ‘I’m so pleased you and George are getting on’.

  ‘Right,’ said George as I finished my last mouthful, ‘try me with another.’

  ‘How easy is it to locate a painting sold on the black market?’

  ‘As in find it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Practically impossible, I’d say.’

  ‘Oh. What about tracing how and where it left the country?’

  ‘If it’s a painting you’re thinking of, they’re mostly transported by container ship. Less likely to get damaged than on an aeroplane. Various UK ports serve different countries. But you’d have to know where the buyer comes from, first.’

  ‘What a muddle. Is your documentary about a painting?’

  ‘No, no. The first episode, I hope there will be more, follows a vast sculpture of a horse. Harder to hide, easier to find. The producers had to give themselves the best chance at an ending. It does teach one an awful lot about the trade, though, which is the point.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now, Susie, I’m terribly sorry but I’m gasping for a cigarette. Would you like one?’

  A large part of me wanted to say yes but it’s been several months since I last smoked and I mustn’t cave in again (just yet).

  ‘No thank you. I think I might head home now. It was so great to meet you.’

  ‘You too.’ George kissed me on both cheeks. ‘I hope one day we’ll meet again.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so too.’

  I said goodbye to the table and Lavender saw me to the door. ‘Toodle pip, Suz,’ she said, steadying herself against the frame. ‘Let’s get together again. Give me a tinkle anytime.’

  ‘Thank you so much, that was great fun.’ I waved back at her as I crossed the gravel turning circle and got into my car.

  Yawn. It’s Saturday morning, just gone nine o’clock. Last night I slept like a log. Straight through my alarm and I don’t know what woke me, but something did. I’ve been downstairs and made a pot of tea and I’m now upright in bed basking in spring sunshine waiting for an answer to my call.

  I’ve Googled two things this morning. 1. where do containers from the uk to canada depart? Answer: Portsmouth. 2. who do I call to report an art fraud? Answer: the local constabulary.

  ‘Highlands and Islands Police Headquarters, how may I direct your call?’ came the voice of a particularly cheery soul.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Yes, Missy? Whit’s yous name?’

  ‘Susie Mahl.’

  ‘How may I help?’

  Last night I’d worked out exactly what I was going to say and so without hesitation, I launched straight in. ‘Officer, there’s something I’d like to report…’

  He interrupted, ‘Yous fe England?’

  ‘Yes, I am and I’d like to…’

  ‘Right ye are,’ he cut me off again, ‘I can see from the code showing on the phone. It ain’t a local number and with yous accent I put the two and two together.’

  ‘That’s so clever of you.’ I had to get rid of this buffoon. ‘Can I speak to your supervisor, please?’

  ‘Yous’ll have to tell me what it’s aboot. I canee just pass yous on willy-nilly, yous ken.’

  ‘I’d like to report a fraud.’

  ‘Right ye are then, putting you through now.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Officer.’

  ‘It’s Constable MacKinzie if you must.’

  ‘Constable MacKinzie.’

  ‘Name please?’

  ‘Susie.’

  ‘No other names?’

  ‘Mahl.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘M A H L.’

  ‘Right, why don’t yous tell me why yous are calling and then I’ll assess if we need yous details.’

  Seriously? I think this station has scraped the barrel for fill-in holiday staff.

  ‘Okay, sure…’

  Before I could add any more he said, ‘Pressing issue or emergency?’

  ‘I’d like to report some art fraud.’

  ‘Oh, looks like you’re in luck, my boss has just arrived. I’ll pass yous over.’

  ‘Inspector Gordon, how may I help you?’

  ‘My name’s Susie Mahl, I’m calling to report an art fraud.’

  ‘Right okay, give me a second, I’ve been caught up this morning and I’ve only just got to the station.’

  I heard the sound of a chair scraping across a wooden floor, a desk drawer opening and a tin of pens rattling. A huge sigh came down the line. ‘Right, you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Susie Mahl, Norland Lane, East Sussex. Correct?’

  ‘Correct. How come you have my details?’

  ‘Traced your phone number.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘This is the Highlands and Islands Police HQ, do you think you’ve got the wrong number?’

  ‘No, this is right. I was wondering if you’ve had a call about a local art fraud?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘So, you have?’

  ‘Let’s hypothetically speaking say we have.’

  ‘Okay. It’s to do with the Earl and Countess of Muchton at Auchen Laggan Tosh.’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’

  This man was easy to crack.

  ‘I spent this last week tutoring on an art residency up there.’

  ‘Aye, I heard about that.’

  ‘I was there when the art valuer suggested two Landseers were copies.’

  ‘Supposedly identified,’ he corrected. ‘According to Lord Muchton the art dealership rang on Wednesday morning to tell him the news. We don’t have confirmation yet. There’s a meeting in the diary for Tuesday with an art specialist but other than that there isn’t a huge amount we can do.’

  ‘Well, I’m observant by nature and over the last week I noticed quite a few things tied up with the copies.’

  ‘If they are copies,’ he reminded me again. ‘You’re going to have to explain yourself. The fraud was reported yesterday. If it turns out to be true, we have no idea which generation is to blame. This case is going to take months if not years.’ A long breath came huffing down the line. ‘As the station is affuy quiet today why don’t you tell me a bit more about what you know? If you can aid our investigation, it’s a red-letter day for me. The family aren’t too happy.’

  I’ve decided it would only complicate matters if I took Inspector Gordon through every step of my theory. I assume he’s further ahead than he’s let on. But I reached my conclusion behind the Muchtons’ back, and I don’t want to ruin my reputation, so I said, ‘Inspector, I’d really appreciate it if I could remain anonymous going forward.’

  He put me in my place. ‘I’m not planning on mentioning your name to anyone. You tell me what you know, I’ll keep it in the back of my mind and if it helps it helps and if not, so be it. You won’t be getting a medal.’

  ‘Great. Thanks.’

  ‘Quick now, coffee time is approaching, give me what you’ve got.’

  ‘Lord Muchton has a twin brother.’

  ‘Aye, Ewen Hewson.’

  ‘Yes. Ewen’s an artist. He’s the one who’s been copying the paintings. I found his initials E H hidden in the pictures.’

  ‘Did you now.’

  This man doesn’t believe me.

  ‘I can guide the expert to the very spot. Anyone could miss them. But in the meantime if you search Ewen’s house you’ll find a projector, an array of specific painting equipment as well as a history of photograph downloads on his computer.’ I’m putting myself on the line but, hey-ho, I have to nudge this man into action and to do so I must be bold. I wasn’t even going to mention Louis. If he’s involved, he’ll be found
out in the end, and as for Zoe, she may never be caught. I doubt there’s enough evidence to prove her guilty. But a guilty conscience is hard to live with, her comeuppance will be served. So I said, ‘I think an original Landseer is on its way to Canada.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes. In a silver Ford Transit on its way to, if it hasn’t already arrived at, Portsmouth.’ This was a guess but I didn’t think Ewen would use his van, so it was all I had to go on. ‘It left Auchen Laggan Tosh on Wednesday night. Mike’s Motors, a local garage, will give you the registration.’ I didn’t mention the female driver. I hadn’t seen her so I couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Never mind that coffee.’ Inspector Gordon had clicked into action. ‘I’m going to hang up, Miss Mahl, and get on to this right away.’

  ‘One more thing, do you know about the email from Ethan and Chloe Hewson?’

  ‘Aye, aye, Lord Muchton’s told us everything. The email might be a hoax but it is, well, was, our main lead.’

  Inspector Gordon ended the call.

  Mum, as predicted, persuaded me to stay on a few days after Easter. It’s now Wednesday and I’ve only just left. Sam went down unsurprisingly well at lunch and thankfully forgave me for not calling him before. It wasn’t intentional, I’d selfishly completely forgotten. He is forgiving like that and I do feel lucky to have him as a friend. Louis Bouchon was a different matter. I had not forgotten to text him and, however tempting a night at the opera sounded, I wanted him to contact me first. Of course, there was the whole art fraud issue but until he’s locked up it wouldn’t have put me off. Needless to say, he didn’t get in touch. But guess who did…Yes. Toby. He called on Easter Monday morning and I was in such a good mood I answered before checking to see who it was. He’d been sweet. Refusing to hang up until we’d agreed on a date to meet. He wanted to see me in person, to talk things through. With a very full diary – the mortuary was busy – we settled on a place for lunch, halfway between us both.

  That’s how I’ve ended up here, on a Wednesday morning at Basingstoke railway station. Not really halfway from Sussex but I’ve come from London so it seems fair.

  I’m sitting on a low-level wall of the car park basking in the spring sunshine. Toby’s train has just pulled in and I must say I’m a little nervous.

  There’s a 9–5 shop outside the station. Almost all the newspapers in the rack have a picture of Auchen Laggan Tosh plastered across the front page. The headline, Insincere Landseer Tears Twins Apart, is jumping out at me in bold.

  ‘Susie,’ Toby shouted as soon as he saw me. He looked thin and tired.

  I got up and his arms enveloped me in a huge hug. His shoulder felt bony under my chin. I thought I might cry. I didn’t want to be here unless we have a future together and the thought there might not be made my bottom lip wobble.

  ‘Thanks for coming all this way,’ he said as he pulled himself upright and slung his satchel onto his back. ‘Are you okay?’

  I realised I’d forgotten to speak. ‘Yes, yes,’ I said, trying hard to smile. ‘I’m so pleased we could make this work.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Basingstoke before?’

  ‘Nope.’ I clenched my fists and filled myself with strength to get through the next hour or so.

  ‘Neither have I but I’ve done a bit of Googling and there are plenty of green spaces.’ Toby tapped his bag.

  ‘You brought lunch?’

  ‘Of course. If I was forcing you all the way here, I had to make your journey worth it.’

  I smiled and waited for him to speak. Surely he’d seen the papers this morning – he must have joined the dots about Auchen Laggan Tosh. But I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, just in case we never talked about anything else.

  When he began, ‘I didn’t like how we left it in Scotland,’ I practically tripped up on my own two feet. It was so out of character for him to address the issue that I suspected he’d been having relationship coaching.

  He went on, ‘I shouldn’t have interrupted your teaching post and it was wrong of me to accept the invitation to that evening without asking you first.’

  ‘It’s not completely wrong of you,’ I said, as usual dropping my guard. ‘I didn’t behave very well.’

  Toby’s brow creased slightly. He was surprised at my reaction but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold up being sullen around him. Mainly because I think it’s terribly bad practice to be cruel to someone you one day might love (again). Toby was that someone for me.

  ‘When I accepted the job in Scotland,’ I sighed, ‘I felt it would be a breath of fresh air, a change of scene, and then you turned up and it upset me a lot.’ This was brutally honest but it’s how I am and I didn’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not.

  Toby took hold of my hand. ‘Please will you give me a second chance?’

  ‘Friends?’ I said, getting in there first. I didn’t want to hear the word come out of his mouth.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, and I looked away. My heart has just broken for a second time.

  He pressed the button on the traffic lights and let go of my hand.

  ‘Susie,’ he said without any feeling, ‘you know me better than almost all my friends. Surely that’s something we can build on?’

  I forgot to speak, again.

  ‘Can’t we?’

  ‘Yes of course.’

  ‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘Hey, how do you think a blind person knows when to cross the road?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Give me your hand.’ He held it palm facing upwards under the black box. ‘Can you feel a solid button?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Keep touching it and when the red man turns green, it’ll vibrate.’

  He was right. ‘That’s so great.’

  ‘Isn’t it just.’

  We crossed the road and I left my disappointment on the other side. I’m determined not to let my hopes spoil our time together. Who knows when we’ll see each other again?

  As soon as we reached the other side Toby pulled me down a gap between two buildings. Oh yes…I think he’s going to kiss me. I’ve got it all wrong. Yes. Please do…

  But when he said, ‘I researched the parks on Google Earth. It’s much quicker this way,’ I realised it was a literal short cut and I plodded on, squeezing between barbed wire and into a wood.

  ‘I wanted to see you today so I could apologise,’ he volunteered. ‘But I also just wanted to hang out and have fun like we used to do.’

  He gave me a huge smile and I couldn’t help smiling back. He looked so happy, a little boy in a grown-up’s body.

  We came out of the wood onto an expanse of grass with little bunches of yellow primroses and groups of people.

  ‘If we head for that corner,’ Toby pointed into the distance, ‘there should be a bandstand and I thought we could eat in it.’

  ‘Great.’ I sounded reasonably enthusiastic.

  We walked as a pair, neither of us talking. The calm atmosphere between us was enough to assure me things were going to get better from here on. I no longer felt the need to drag up the past. How he could have left me alone and upset, disregarded my sensitivities and cut off all communication. Today was Toby’s day. He’d struck up the plan, taken it into his hands and although he hadn’t spoken the word ‘sorry’ he had conveyed it in what he’d said.

  I looked across at him and beamed. His blue eyes sparkled back as he ran his hand through his thick curly hair.

  ‘It’s so good to be out of the office,’ he said, taking in a great big breath of fresh air. ‘Working as a mortuary clerk is dead dull sometimes.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet it’s lifeless.’

  He laughed, a lot. This made me happy. Toby was willing to let me in.

  ‘Okay. Okay,’ he said and stopped. The bandstand lay about ten feet away but there was obviously something pressing on his mind. ‘I’ve been dying to say this but I wanted to clear things up between us first.’

  ‘What?’ I could hardly contain my excite
ment.

  ‘Isn’t it AMAZING what’s going on with the Muchtons?’

  This was a massive let-down. I honestly thought he was going to tell me he loved me. An unrealistic thought I know, but my emotions are all over the place and the most unlikely scenarios suddenly seem likely to happen at any moment. I have been looking forward to discussing the Muchton art fraud drama with him later, not now.

  ‘It’s a pretty great story, don’t you think? I can’t believe the brother got away with it.’

  ‘He didn’t get away with it, that’s the point.’ I began to walk away.

  ‘Oi, oi, oi,’ Toby pulled at my shoulder and turned me around. ‘What’s up? You can’t just change the atmosphere like that.’ His voice was now soft, kind, willing me to share whatever it was.

  No matter what I said, I owed him a reply.

  ‘You bringing up the Auchen Laggan Tosh mystery reminded me of us falling out in Norfolk over the death of that American girl, Hailey.’

  Toby blew his lips apart with a puff of air. ‘Susie, don’t be so silly. Norfolk’s in the past, and anyway, what’s Norfolk got to do with this?’

  His eyes strained as he fixed me with an anxious glare. I didn’t flicker. I wanted him to get there by himself.

  He stared and stared and eventually, forgetting he had a satchel over one shoulder, he threw his arms up in the air. Lunch rattled around but he didn’t seem to care.

  ‘You were involved, weren’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t help Ewen paint them, no.’

  He cuffed me round the head. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘But we’re not a team any more.’

  ‘Please,’ he begged, ‘don’t be like that. I’m sure we can be a team again. Just this time we weren’t but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear.’

  I stopped myself from reminding him that last time we weren’t exactly a team either. He’d given up believing in me halfway through the case and I definitely didn’t want to bring up that argument again.

  ‘How about I tell you over lunch?’ I teased. ‘I’m hungry.’