by Clare Chase
Completely useless… ‘There shouldn’t be any need, thanks.’ She was going to have to let Monique go straight back to the gallery and leave the place feeling sure there was something out of kilter, without knowing what. Maybe Blake’s mother would solve the mystery later. The thought was the opposite of comforting.
As she imagined the art historian wandering around, casting her expert eye over Trent’s contents, the image of the front gallery filled her mind again, lighter than before. And then suddenly she realised what had caused the difference. Luke Cope’s painting had been taken down. Of course – it made sense. Presumably Jonny Trent wouldn’t be allowed to sell any more of his work until probate had gone through. She mentioned the matter to Monique, who nodded.
‘Yes, you’re quite right, it’s come down,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing what a difference it makes, isn’t it, having a sunny pastoral scene up there instead?’
‘And Luke’s painting will be taken back to Matthew Cope, I presume?’
But Monique shook her head. ‘In the ordinary way it would have been, but I understand Matthew’s agreed that Jonny can buy it.’ She smiled. ‘I think he might have let him have it for a reduced price, but Jonny would have bought it anyway. He runs this place as a business, but he really does love art, and when it comes to his personal collection it’s his own taste that governs what he purchases, not the potential value.’
Blake had mentioned that Jonny Trent claimed to rate Luke Cope’s work, so it fitted, but Tara still couldn’t imagine the man doing anything for such a pure reason.
‘I wonder if he’s more sentimental than any of us realises, too,’ Monique said. ‘It’s the last thing we had left of Luke.’ She looked down at the table. ‘I hardly knew him, but this business with Freya is so tragic. I can only imagine he killed her in a moment of madness and then couldn’t live with himself. Such waste.’
They got up and Tara followed Monique back towards the front of the building. Trent was with a client when they reappeared.
‘Ah,’ he said, looking up, ‘and here’s our gallery manager, Monique Courville, who will assist you.’
He’d given the woman Freya’s title then. He probably wanted to make quite sure she knew she was on the front line, with a duty to shield him from any mundane work he didn’t fancy.
Monique switched straight back into professional mode, Tara noticed. She flashed the visitor – a tall, gaunt man with red hair and goatee to match – a charming, toothpaste-advertisement smile, and though she looked smart and conventional, and he a bit of hipster, he clearly warmed in response to her greeting and outstretched hand.
As Jonny Trent showed Tara out, she tried to imagine him having a sentimental side. It wasn’t happening. Once again, she wondered at Monique’s view of her boss, but then if working with someone was a big part of your life it made sense to make the best of it. Even if it meant lying to yourself.
Thirty-Four
Before she went back to the station to share updates, Tara headed to Matthew Cope’s home. She’d called ahead and found he’d been given compassionate leave from work. She strained to see the way ahead as she drove. Visibility was down to a few metres, the surroundings shrouded in fog.
‘It was kind of you to sell Luke’s painting to Jonny Trent,’ she said, when he’d let her in. The gallery owner must have been bloody quick off the mark to request it, given the timing.
Matthew shook his head. ‘He rang as soon as he heard the news to offer his condolences. I’m not even sure how he got my number. He mentioned that he’d take the painting down and keep it for me, unless I wanted to sell it. He said he’d always loved it and it would be something to remember Luke by.’ He looked at Tara. ‘I’m surprised he’d want to remember him, considering what he’s done. But I told him to have the painting, by all means. I’ve got lots more. He insisted on paying something for it, so we reached an agreement.’
Tara explained her mission.
‘You surely don’t think someone else was involved?’
She trotted out the same explanation she’d given the others – passing the checks off as red tape – but Matthew’s dark eyes told her he’d seen through her spiel.
On the night of Thursday twenty-second of February, he said, he’d stopped off on his way through town for a beer, sometime in the early evening. He’d stayed on for a bit, as he’d done his commute by bus that day. The landlord of the Clarendon Arms, near the bus station, might remember. And she already had his movements for the rest of the weekend.
By the time she reached Parkside police station she’d also spoken to Zach Cross again. He was still off work too, so she saw him at his home in Newnham. When she asked where he’d been on the Thursday night he told her he’d stayed in all evening with Freya, and then burst into tears. Nothing else he said was much help either, though he did mention he’d been out with a friend from his department on the Saturday night for a drink. Tara would be interested to know how he’d seemed, the night after his wife had been killed.
Back at the station, Tara reviewed the information she’d got to pass on to Blake, Megan and Max. She was sure it was going to be disappointing compared with what they’d managed to get hold of. She called the guy Zach Cross had met with on the Saturday evening, desperate for something more. She hoped her actions wouldn’t come back to haunt her. Claiming her enquiry was alibi checking was stretching a point. There was nothing to suggest either Freya or Luke had been killed that night.
When she, Blake, Megan and Max were back together they exchanged their news.
Blake raised an eyebrow when she told him Monique Courville was still talking up her boss.
‘My mother says that last time she dropped into the gallery she saw Jonny Trent harassing Freya – or at least, invading her physical space. Monique was there too, and my mother didn’t see him treating her the same way, but I couldn’t see him stopping at one. D’you think there’s any chance Monique reciprocates his feelings, if I’m right and he’s come on to her too?’
‘Don’t,’ Tara said, ‘you’re making my flesh crawl. The alternative is that she’s making the best of things. She clearly needs the cash from her job, so I’d guess she’s stuck, one way or another.’ She felt for her. She’d been in a similar position when she’d worked for Not Now magazine. You couldn’t live off fresh air. Still, she’d got her own back eventually.
Blake frowned. ‘What did the academic Zach Cross met say about their evening out that Saturday? I presume you managed to dig up more than just confirmation that they were together?’ There was a slight smile in his eyes and Tara switched off her response to it. Almost as soon as it started. She noticed Megan’s eyes were on her, her look unreadable.
‘He was oddly forthcoming,’ Tara had to admit. ‘Not much digging required.’ The guy had seemed glad she’d called, as though he felt he had something to say, but hadn’t liked to pick up the phone.
‘He told me Professor Cross got very drunk. Then he paused and said they both did. Struggling with loyalty, I think. Bottom line is, Cross had way more than he normally would, and the friend, another professor – Guy French – suspected something was up.’
They all looked at each other.
‘But given by his own admission he thought his wife had gone off with another man, that seems like natural behaviour,’ Tara added.
‘And maybe he’d have been more likely to stay at home that night if he had killed Freya,’ Megan said.
Tara nodded. ‘Though I gather the professors’ “lads’ night out” had been in the diary a while, so he might have thought ducking out of it would look suspicious.’
Blake relayed his visit to Imogen Field. ‘She was very matter-of-fact, very honest-seeming. She didn’t gloss over her knowledge of how people inject heroin, for instance. She told me she hasn’t seen Luke for months and that she didn’t know the mill existed.’
Tara could see the hesitation in Blake’s eyes. He couldn’t pull the woman up on anything, she guessed, but he still wasn�
�t sure he could trust her.
‘That painting,’ he said. ‘The one Luke did of her struggling to free herself from a noose.’
With no hope of success.
‘I had another look at the photographs the tech team took of the picture afterwards. The backdrop is at the mill.’ His eyes met Tara’s. ‘She’s hanging from a beam in the room where one of the millstones is still present. It doesn’t prove she was ever there, of course, apart from in her ex’s imagination.’
But it made you think, all the same. Someone had found out about Luke’s secret getaway. What if Imogen Field had been to see Cope more recently than she was admitting? She had the motive and knowledge to kill both Freya and her ex. Tara could see why Blake was hesitating.
‘Oscar Cross was interesting,’ Megan said. ‘The guy clearly thought he was giving off a really laid-back vibe but I’d swear he was hiding something. He was leaning back in his chair, smiling even, but his fists were clenched. When we walked off, down his corridor, I heard one of his “mates” laughing at his expense. I wonder if he has a hard time at college.’
Blake explained how the needle used on Luke had probably been diabetic-sized, according to Imogen Field. ‘I cross-checked the notes the CSIs provided and they described the needle type differently, but it turns out they’re one and the same. It might not mean anything.’
He sat back in his chair, his dark eyes on the middle distance, and took a swig of his coffee. ‘The other item of interest that’s just come into my hands is Luke Cope’s bank records.’
Tara sat forward, waiting for him to share his spoils. She couldn’t help it – when someone else had information she lacked, it was almost unbearable.
Blake flipped open his laptop. ‘So, the surprise is, he really was selling jewellery, by the look of it. There are a few transfers into his account from a couple of jewellers in town.’
Tara raised an eyebrow. ‘A few?’ It didn’t match the story Matthew had relayed, of Luke having inherited one stand-out item that he’d sold.
‘Several. And there are also other deposits by cheque which we’ll need to trace to their source. I’m wondering if they represent similar sales – to individuals maybe.’
‘What sort of amounts of money are we talking?’ She’d cut across Megan slightly. The woman closed her mouth again with a sidelong glance at Tara. She’d probably been about to ask the same question. Tara hadn’t meant to drown her out, but Blake always encouraged them to chip in without hesitating. She had a feeling Megan’s preferred approach would have been different.
‘No single, large sum that would account for his move back into the family home as Matthew described it,’ Blake said, ‘but each individual transaction was for anything from five hundred to a couple of thousand. And they add up.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘It would be interesting to know if Luke Cope’s mother insured her jewellery. Or if there’s any other way of getting an idea of exactly what she had,’ Max said.
‘When Matthew mentioned it, he said his mother had left him a few nice pieces too,’ Tara put in. ‘In which case, I guess her will must have itemised them.’ Though when Matthew had told her that story she’d wondered if he’d made it up, to save face. Perhaps Luke had been his mother’s favourite. From the way Blake had relayed Imogen Field’s evidence, it sounded as though he’d been both brilliant and charming. His mum might not have seen his darker side.
‘We’ll need to find out,’ Blake said. ‘Has anyone got anything else before we carry on?’
‘An update from the team who’re continuing the interviews with Luke’s neighbours,’ Max said. ‘They’ve found someone who thinks they saw him leave his street by car – alone – on Thursday twenty-second of February.’
The night his vehicle was caught on camera later, with a passenger…
‘But they can’t be absolutely sure it was the same day.’ Max pulled a face.
‘And the deep dig for information on the Flag and Diamond produced something,’ Megan said. ‘Though I’m afraid it’s thin. And it might not even be relevant, if Luke really was getting his spare cash from selling jewellery rather than drugs.’ Tara watched Blake, sitting forward on the edge of his seat, and knew he was restraining himself from telling her to spit it out. ‘I’ve found one news feature on drug-related violence and crime which mentions the pub,’ Megan continued, glancing down at her notes. ‘The article refers to a mugging that led to the death of an eighty-five-year-old. The perpetrator was called Gavin Rawlings, and one of the newspaper’s interviewees knew him from the Flag and Diamond. He told the reporter Gavin wouldn’t have meant to hurt the woman. Described him as a gentle soul, at the mercy of his drug addiction and the need to get money for his next fix.’
Blake’s eyes were on Megan. ‘His next fix being?’
‘Heroin, apparently.’
Interesting, I’ll give you that. But Megan was right – despite Luke’s apparent links to the pub and his death from the same drug, the connections were still tenuous.
‘We should keep it in mind,’ Blake said. ‘For all we know, Luke’s killer’s not even on our radar yet. He could still be a connection through the pub.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘Just because we’ve got a paper trail that shows Cope was selling jewellery doesn’t mean that’s all there is to it.’ He looked at them in turn. ‘So many medium-value transactions looks like a front to me. So let’s run through our suspects. We’ve got Zach Cross, who was pretty certain his wife was having an affair with Luke Cope, and Oscar Cross, who disapproved of his father’s marriage to Freya. And then there’s Imogen Field.’ He paused and sipped his coffee, a double espresso, Tara guessed. She could never work out why he wasn’t constantly bouncing off the walls.
‘Then we have Vicky Cope, who stands to inherit Luke’s house now that he’s dead,’ he went on. ‘But I can’t see why she’d kill Freya. Similarly, Matthew Cope inherits Luke’s paintings and any other odds and bits we might not know about. But however much they’re worth, he wouldn’t need Freya dead in order to benefit either. And then, for me, the big question mark. Jonny Trent at the gallery. Monique Courville says Freya’s argument was with Luke Cope. She heard them rowing. But given that it was at work, and Freya was shouting about how stupid Luke had been, my bet is the reason for the upset related to the gallery. Trent knew them both; he was definitely frightened when I first turned up, and I’m certain he’s keeping something from us. Plus, the man makes my skin crawl. Anyone I’ve missed? Any comments?’
Megan didn’t look as though she was about to leap in, so Tara did. ‘So you’re thinking this might still be drugs-related? Perhaps Luke supplied heroin and was paid in untraceable, legitimately bought jewellery? Whoever was supplying Luke would probably be ruthless enough to kill him and Freya, even if they only suspected she might know the truth.’
‘But the drugs angle is seriously thin,’ Megan said.
Tara had been thinking the same herself, moments earlier, but for a second she still felt affronted.
‘That said,’ Max put in, ‘the guy I spoke to at the Flag and Diamond was warning me off, that’s for sure. He had me down as a copper – maybe as a new boy: wanting to make something of myself but easily intimidated.’
Tara laughed. ‘Or so he hoped. Poor judge of character, clearly.’
Max grinned at her, and she smiled back.
When Tara looked up, both Blake and Megan’s eyes were on her. Something in Blake’s expression reminded her she was still angry with him.
‘I suppose we need to think who from our list of suspects might have gone with Luke to the mill,’ Megan said.
Blake nodded. ‘I can’t honestly see him taking Oscar Cross over there for an evening of drinking and nut-eating. Why would he? There’s no evidence they knew each other, and they’re not even close in age. But Zach Cross? Even though they weren’t on friendly terms he might have been able to swing it. Maybe if they’d met somewhere else first, had a drink, buried the hatchet. Zach could have pretended to b
e interested in Luke’s artwork maybe. If his ego was big enough, it might have made him overlook the danger he was in. But why the mill? Why wouldn’t they just go to his house in town?’
‘So maybe Imogen Field’s more likely?’ Tara said. ‘Perhaps she got dolled up, convinced him she wanted one final rerun of their affair and suggested the mill because it was romantic. We’ve only got her word that she didn’t know about it.’
Blake nodded. ‘It’s possible.’
‘And surely Jonny Trent from the gallery is just as likely?’ Megan said. ‘There’s every possibility Freya knew about the mill, as Luke’s current girlfriend, and she could easily have mentioned it at work. It was clearly inspiring his output, so it was a relevant topic. And all the clues we needed to figure out its location were right there in the gallery. We joined the dots, so he might have too.’
Blake nodded his agreement again. ‘And I could also imagine him taking Vicky or his brother over there – but not why they’d need to commit this double crime, as I say. No… I like your thinking on Jonny Trent.’
Megan Maloney beamed. Tara was starting to find her smile irritating. She snapped her mind into neutral. She wasn’t going to be thrown off course because of her feelings. It was true, she could imagine Jonny going off to carouse with Luke. And that the gallery owner might have some kind of motive. Hell, it could even be pure jealousy, given Blake’s mum had seen Jonny pawing at Freya. He probably wished he could have what Luke was having. For a second, all-encompassing anger rushed through her, hot and powerful. Maybe he’d intended to kill Luke, then meet Freya in his place and give it a go. She’d put up a struggle, insulted him and he’d hit her with that stone before killing her. It might have played out like that…
‘What about the way Freya was attacked?’ Megan said. ‘Do we need to look at that? The fact that her killer stunned her before strangling her?’ It was as though the woman had read her mind. ‘It might indicate the perpetrator was physically different to Luke Cope, in an obvious way, even in the dark. They’d need to act quickly to subdue her in that case, before she realised she’d been tricked.’