Guilt Edged (16 page)

No, Lina, you do not do policemen. Remember?

Of course I remembered – and hadn't I thought he might be gay when I first met him?

‘So I think you're right about someone repainting and refiring these horses,' Carwyn declared, rejecting a further helping of salad. ‘That's what our forensics people with their clever gizmos have been able to prove – it's no longer just a matter of your keen eye and professional expertise, Lina. And thanks to your fiancé's nosiness, Mary, we're two steps closer to finding out who's doing it. They certainly put your fiancé to a lot of trouble to get back what we think is the prototype forgery.'

‘What would they have done if he hadn't returned it?' Mary asked, her voice muted.

I squeezed her hand. She might never Give In, any more than I would, but if someone threatened Griff directly, I'd hand over anything, even the contents of our hidden safe. And she loved Paul enough to be marrying him in a very few weeks' time.

‘He did return it. It's all over. No worries.' But she clearly didn't believe him, so he continued, ‘All the same, I'd be grateful if you told him simply to report any other white horses to us, not to try to buy them. These people aren't fools, Mary: they were able to track him down once. They may be inclined to believe he really did have a niece at uni who is now minus a nice gift. But if he made a habit of scouting for white gee gees, you can bet your life the word would get round, and there's nothing to stop them getting on to him again. Tell him to leave it to us. Please. And that applies to you too, Lina. You can repair china wonderfully – but you might not be so hot on repairing your own bones.'

I couldn't hold back a shudder. A criminal had threatened my hands once before. I held them out in front of me, meeting his eye with a silent question. He gave a tiny nod.

‘There's talk,' I said, ‘of a mini conference of auctioneers in this area. They want me to be involved. Would you be, too?'

He pulled a face. But then he seemed to make a decision. ‘It's not exactly the Met's Fine Arts people's bag, is it? So I'll make it mine, so long as my boss gives me permission.'

‘Tell your boss it looks as if they're moving up a notch.
Sang de boeuf
Ruskin.' I told him about the identical high-fired ginger jars I'd seen in Folkestone. ‘They're after hundreds with the horses, but thousands if they nail Ruskin ware.'

‘I'm not familiar with it,' he admitted.

‘Let's have our coffee in the living room,' I said, suddenly thrust into hostess mode. It was always Griff who managed such things, but now it was up to me. ‘Then I can show you what they're copying. It's the most beautiful stuff.'

In response to a buzz on the shop doorbell, Mary left us to it, rubbing her hands at the prospect of a sale.

‘The strange thing is,' I told Carwyn, ‘that Mary prefers to sell ugly dross. I think she sees it as a bigger challenge than selling beautiful things.'

‘Which she'd rather keep for herself. I don't have a problem with that. Neither do you or your grandfather,' he added, gesturing at the rest of the room. His eyes lit up, and he headed towards the display cabinet. ‘Is that the Ruskin ware you were talking about?'

Unlocking the cabinet, I placed the vase gently into those lovely hands of his. He inspected it with something like reverence and returned it to me to put back in its place. He smiled as I adjusted the spotlight slightly to bring out its deep rich purples and reds.

‘Actually, that Ruskin's one of the very few perfect artefacts in the room. Most of the others are lovely one side, but too damaged elsewhere to think of selling. Which is how I got into restoration. But tell me, how did you get into policing—?'

‘Long story.' He was just settling back into his chair when his phone rang. I gestured – he could take it here while I busied myself in the kitchen. As it happened, our office phone rang too. Pa! Of all the people I'd rather not have in my life in the next ten minutes.

‘Crisis, Lina. Major crisis.'

My God, they'd arrested him! Or Titus!

‘Dropped my last two bottles of shampoo. Oh, not the good stuff in the cellar. Can't touch that on my own. Your inheritance, Lina, that's what that is. No, the ordinary muck.'

The stuff that usually came in at twenty-five pounds a bottle, even with discount for quantity.

‘Any chance you could get me some, old girl? Oh, and one or two other odds and sods. Got a pencil handy?'

When he'd dictated an A4 sheet-long list, he paused. ‘How's that old bugger of yours?'

‘Griff's doing fine, thanks, Pa. Still at Aidan's, over in Tenterden.'

‘About time he was home. Or do you sleep over there?' His voice sounded both suspicious and jealous.

‘Occasionally. But you know how Aidan and I are together.'

‘Two dogs, same bone. All the same, time Griff was heading to his own home – you need someone to keep an eye on you.'

‘Me? Who's broken two bottles of bubbly? Anyway, all I can say is I'll do a supermarket run when I can. Perhaps a late-night shop tonight. Then I could drop the stuff in first thing tomorrow. I can't talk any more. I've got the police here.'

He cut the call immediately.

Carwyn wandered in clutching his phone. ‘My boss,' he said.

I pointed to ours. ‘My dad.' As Carwyn's face clouded, I added, ‘He's just broken his last bottle of champagne, which is pretty serious. Alcoholic,' I added, bending my arms and wrist vigorously. ‘Starts the day with a nice healthy Buck's Fizz – to get his vitamin C, you understand. And then he thinks he might just as well empty the bottle. And the next.' This time I demonstrated the shakes – an arrant lie, because I'd never seen Pa's hand less steady than mine. Well, with his line of work … ‘Mind you, he gets a lot of time to watch TV. When Griff was having surgery he was a mine of really useful information, having seen every medical programme going.'

He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it, with something of a snap. ‘I've got to move on to another investigation, I'm afraid. Ten minutes ago.'

Damn it if my face didn't fall.

He added quickly, ‘But I'm still running this one. So copy me in on any invitation you get to this conference on horses, will you?'

‘Of course I will. As I was saying to Brian Baker, it'd be good to have official involvement. You might want his number.' I held up the phone so he could copy it. There, that was better. Altogether more professional. I added, with a touch of malice, ‘Mind you, he thought Kent Police'd be too busy protecting old ladies from armed robbers to worry about minor fraud.'

He put his head on one side, eyes slightly narrowed. ‘And what did you say?'

‘That little crimes led to bigger ones. And I spouted a lot of crap about money-laundering, drug-running and people-trafficking. Proper little head girl, I was.'

He nodded appraisingly and laughed. Then his face was serious again. ‘Are you over that assault yet? Nasty, from what I gather.'

‘Heavens, I've got to be. I shan't enjoy going to court and reliving it all, but at least both Griff and I are alive to tell the tale. Unlike your undercover colleague,' I added soberly. After a moment I continued, ‘Would you mind leaving via the shop, by the way? And reminding Mary to keep Paul's sleuthing under control?' Which was the best way I could think of to tell him to push off and let me get on with my life.

At least until the white horse conference.

I
'd just picked up my paintbrush when Aidan phoned. He'd forgotten he had an engagement at a charitable function he really ought not to miss, and wondered if it wouldn't inconvenience me too much if he asked me to cook Griff's supper and stay overnight.

‘No problem,' I said. ‘What time do you have to leave?'

But if Pa needed rations, my being in Tenterden by six forty-five did cause problems. Big ones. Putting down the brush still unused, I toddled down to the shop. Mary was busy rearranging the main shelf. A quick glance told me she'd managed to offload five hundred pounds' worth of early nineteenth century Derby plates.

‘We're running out of stock! It's no good, you'll have to go to a sale or two soon,' she greeted me.

‘I know.' I was ready to tear my hair. ‘But I've made no progress on my pile of restoration and there's more coming in. Griff needs babysitting tonight, and on top of that Pa's run out of supplies. Where do I start, Mary?'

‘With your brain, Lina. Order the supermarket stuff online: have them deliver it.'

‘I tried that once. Pa's lane broke a spring on their van. He's blacklisted.'

‘Well, have them deliver it here, and then you can take it tomorrow. Or Paul and I can drop it off – we're at my place this week.' She paused. ‘But he only runs out of supplies when he wants to see you, doesn't he? And when he wants you to sell more of his goodies?'

I nodded. ‘So it'll have to be me. But the Internet order's a brilliant idea. I'll go and do it now.' But not until I did what I should have done two or three times this week. ‘Before I dash off, tell me how the plans are going. Have you sorted your fascinator yet? That nice shop in Hythe?'

The arrival of Paul cut her mercifully short, but I stayed long enough to ensure she passed on Carwyn's message about safety. And Geoff's, for good measure. Then I left them to it; they had parcels to wrap and get to the post.

They
… What about putting Paul, who was working his socks off for free, on the payroll too? He wouldn't want me to, but offering was the best way I could think of to say thank you. I'd discuss it with Griff tonight.

It then occurred to me I could do even better than have to wait in for a delivery the following day. I could collect everything from Tenterden Waitrose and even add a few fun things for my feast with Griff tonight.

‘Thai salmon! My darling, you don't know how I've longed for this. And how foresighted of you to bring all the spices. Fresh coriander too. When I was afraid of dying – though we both pretended to each other that there was no chance of that, didn't we – I told myself if I reached heaven I'd know because of the scent of coriander that St Peter would organize specially for me. And here it is – safe on earth.' He threw his arms round me and gave me the best hug we'd had since his operation. With not even a wince.

And then another miracle: he grabbed Aidan's pristine pinny and started pottering around, clearly ready to cook. I didn't argue.

We talked about how far he'd walked each day – and how very, very much he'd relished the little car trip with Paul and Mary. Why he hadn't been for a spin in Aidan's Merc I didn't feel I should ask, any more than he ever asked me about any relationship problems I might be having. That was part of our unspoken deal. I wouldn't even ask about the night nurse, though I was intrigued that she was never, ever mentioned.

Then talk drifted to the wedding.

‘There's absolutely no doubt at all I shall be well enough to fulfil my promise,' he declared, eyeing with interest the champagne I'd also bought. ‘But of course, dear one, there is the problem of the shop in Mary's absence. Their honeymoon, dear one. For all they're not in the first flush of youth, not to mention the fact that they've lived together for months, they're entitled to some private time together. I tried to make it one of our gifts to them, but dear Paul said that a man was entitled to pay for such an intimate gift to his new bride. Such a romantic.'

‘And too romantic to divulge the location, of course. But did he say how long they'd be away? You've no idea how wonderfully they've looked after me. So maybe they wouldn't tell me if they were going to take two or three weeks off, in case I panicked.'

‘Panic not. I shall be back on the scene by then, and though we may have to reduce our opening hours—'

‘But—'

‘My dear one, don't look so horrified! I had this operation to make me better. The scar may tug from time to time, but I walked right to the high street and back without stopping today. Three times. And I was venturing to dead-head some of Aidan's flowers, but then his gardener arrived. Now, they gave me a leaflet about returning to work – it's in my bedroom somewhere. I'll get it while you test the rice.' He paused in the doorway. ‘Even doing a proper job I'd be back at work after six weeks. And you can't say that selling
objects d'art
is as taxing as teaching, say.'

‘Not if your pupils are like I was,' I admitted. Fancy him doing all that walking! And going to fetch the leaflet himself. I did a little pirouette of joy. Then I remembered he'd still not told me how long Paul and Mary would be away. How on earth would I cope without them? With that huge backlog of repairs and precious little in stock? At least over supper we could talk about finding some means of paying Paul for all his work.

‘There,' he said, thrusting a leaflet into my hand. ‘Read that and be reassured.'

Funnily enough I was. Enough to open that champagne.

Since a chunk of my day would be occupied ferrying Pa's provisions across to Bossingham Hall, I left Tenterden before six. Not to go to Bossingham – Pa didn't do early hours. But I could make a start on some repairs: normally, I preferred to give each item my undivided attention, but it was clear that if I was to make any progress I'd have to organize batches of things with similar problems – a sort of triage system, which might just work if I was meticulous in recording which item belonged to which owner. But we were out of labels, both adhesive and tie on: dead serious, because we'd need both for the next fair. Before I could hit myself with frustration, I told myself that I didn't even want to work that way, and all I had to do was add them to our office supplies Wanted list, which Mary would deal with. Soon my hands were steady enough to make huge progress on a vase for Harvey Sanditon. There'd be no need to worry about taking that to the post – he used a courier I knew well enough to have seen pictures of his grandchildren. I was so absorbed that I worked on without a break, till it dawned on me that I'd not yet heard Mary's cheerful voice asking if I'd had breakfast. Nearly ten, and no Mary? And no Paul, of course.