The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter 47

Friday 26
th
February, 8.30am

The Woodford Tearooms had been open for an hour, and usually by this time on a Friday they would have served several takeaway breakfasts and had about ten customers sitting at the tables, with never more than four at any one time. Today the place was full, every table was occupied with only a handful of chairs to spare. Lisa and Caroline were having a competition to see if they could identify each person as belonging to one of three groups: local people hoping to find out what all the drama had been about last night; antiques dealers hoping to find out why one of their own had turned on the local auctioneer; and a table occupied by people who were clearly together but who didn’t seem to fall into any obvious category. Caroline thought they may or may not have been police officers.

The bell kept ringing as more and more people came in through the door, with far fewer people leaving. Friday mornings were usually Gemma and Caroline’s shift, but Gemma had phoned her sister from the hospital to ask if she minded swapping her afternoon for the morning just in case they were going to be in for a late night. But at times of peak capacity, usually during the summer lunchtimes and at weekends, they would try to have at least four people working in the tearooms, so just two was not enough. Daniel and Robert were working at their other jobs, and Nathan was away at university, so in the end Lisa reluctantly decided to phone her sister.

‘Gemma, I am so sorry to wake you, but is there any chance you could come in for a couple of hours? We are absolutely inundated, Caroline and I are overwhelmed.’

‘Yes, of course, I’ll be with you in a minute. I was up anyway; my body clock doesn’t know that when you go to bed at half past three in the morning you are allowed to sleep past half past six! I did wonder if we would be the centre for town gossip again.’

Lisa replaced the phone before picking up the next tray of orders which Caroline had set before her.

‘She can come in? Oh thank goodness. Can you phone her back and ask her to pick up some more supplies on the way. I think this lot are trying to eat their own body weight in toasted sandwiches,’ commented Caroline as she balanced another four plates of a breakfast order, preparing to carry them out to the waiting customers.

‘Can you do it when you come back from serving those please? I need to crack on with the toasties.’

Once Gemma arrived Lisa and Caroline felt more in control of their tearooms; it is amazing the difference an extra pair of competent hands can make. By half past nine there seemed to be no reduction in the number of customers, and the three women were working very well as a team.

‘Mum, isn’t that your Robin sitting over there with the group we think are plain clothes officers?’ Caroline pointed to the table in the far corner of the tearooms. ‘I have just served them and am sure it is him, but he was blowing his nose into a tissue the whole time I was there. I thought you said he was an engineer?’

‘Is it? I can’t tell from here, that cap is hiding his hair and he is leaning his cheek on his hand so I can’t see his face. I wouldn’t have thought it was him. What would he be doing with that lot? If it is him we must have got it wrong, those men must be to do with the proposed development of the Maxwell-Lewis farm. I’ll go over and take a proper look, and if it is him I’ll ask, when I get a minute.’

But by the time Lisa was able to go over and talk to the man they thought might be her boyfriend, he had left. Oh well, she thought, it can’t have been him. Surely he would have come over and said ‘hello!’

Chapter 48

Friday 26
th
February, 10.30am

‘Morning boss,’ called Nicola, as Cliff made his way wearily down the stairs from his flat above the antiques centre.

‘Hi Nicola, kettle’s boiled. Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes please, a mint tea would hit the spot. Are you alright? You look as though you have had a heavy night.’

‘Nicola Stacey you must be the only person in Woodford who hasn’t heard what happened last night!’ exclaimed Cliff.

‘Eh? What’s happened?’

‘Tony Cookson went berserk and tried to kill Paul! Jennifer Isaac and I found them before Tony could finish his task and now Paul is in hospital but at least he is alive, and Tony has done a runner.’

Nicola sat down heavily.

‘So it
was
true. Paul did mess around with Tony’s daughter.’

‘Oh I don’t think that is what it was all about. Last night wasn’t the time to ask either of them for an explanation though. I know they have been having a bit of a disagreement about some stock, maybe that is what is at the bottom of it.’

‘Tony’s reaction seems a bit extreme doesn’t it? And out of character. I wouldn’t have had him down as a violent man. Are you sure it was all over a postcard or something? Paul upsetting Tony’s daughter sounds like a far more likely explanation, but even then he must have done something dreadful for Tony to break into his house and go after him like that. Still, fathers and daughters can have a strong bond I suppose. Would you beat up a man for sleeping with Charlotte?’

‘Well, as she is only fourteen and Paul is in his forties then, yes, I probably would kick his door in and bash him with a baseball bat!’ Cliff sat down on the stairs. ‘But you’re right, something is off here. Paul assured me he hadn’t even spoken to Lizzi, let alone broken her heart, and I believed him. He has never denied his past liaisons so I don’t know why he would start now. He explained what their argument was about, but it doesn’t justify such an extreme reaction from Tony. And if it was true, why has Tony disappeared? Last I heard the police were still looking for him. You haven’t heard that they have caught up with him have you?’

‘Cliff, I didn’t even know any of this had happened! Not a soul as been in here since I opened up at ten o’clock this morning.’

At that moment the door opened and in walked Rowland Mitchell. He nodded a greeting at them and continued on his way to his stand. Cliff stood up and called out ‘I’m just making some drinks. Would you like one Rowland?’

‘No, thanks,’ he replied and carried on checking his stock. Cliff made a face at Nicola, and started to walk back up the stairs to his kitchen, when he suddenly stopped and said ‘Rebecca! Has anyone told Rebecca?’

‘I’m sure someone will have phoned her Cliff, didn’t you say Gemma Bartlett was there last night? She’ll have told Daniel, who will have told Rebecca.’

‘Gemma Isaac you mean. Yes, you are right. Gosh, can’t believe I didn’t think of her until now. Maybe I am finally moving on. Paul told me I needed to,’ he grinned and resumed his climb up the stairs to make their tea.

‘Or reverting to type,’ muttered Nicola under her breath.

By the time Cliff returned with their teas a few more antiques dealers had found their way from next door into the antiques centre, and were now gathering in quite a large group around the architectural items at the back of the room.

‘Cliff!’ called out Andrew Dover. ‘Any news on how Paul Black is? It sounds as though he received quite a beating last night.’

‘Yes he did,’ replied Cliff soberly. ‘As far as I know he is on the mend, but he won’t be running any marathons for a while. That bastard broke his leg. I’m going back up to the hospital this afternoon to see him, so I’ll find out more, but when we left him in the early hours of this morning the doctors were saying he would need to be in for a few days while the swellings go down and then they can operate where they need to. Obviously they did what they could last night, but he may need a second or even third operation on his leg, and they are waiting to see how his face responds to the drugs they are giving him before they know if they need to do any reconstructive surgery.’

‘Sounds nasty,’ said Hazel Wilkinson. ‘And it was Tony Cookson who attacked him? What on earth made him behave like that! I always thought he was a gentle man.’

‘Well he does collect militaria,’ Nicola had left the counter to come and join the group. ‘I think you have to have some sort of violent streak in you to be interested in that sort of thing.’

This was not a popular comment, and several of the dealers shuffled their feet and looked away.

‘Oh yes, the contents of his famous shed,’ laughed Andrew.

‘I’d love to see inside there,’ someone commented.

This was much safer ground, and several of the other dealers nodded in agreement. As the discussion turned to speculation about what items of military treasure Tony Cookson had stored away in his shed at the end of his garden, Cliff and Nicola left the group to return to their places behind the counter. Rowland Mitchell joined them.

‘What was it all about then Cliff?’ he asked, in a direct manner.

‘No idea,’ replied Cliff. There was something about the man that he did not trust, and he wasn’t going to divulge the secret Paul shared with him on that early frosty morning on The Green. Cliff thought that Tony’s reaction to Paul’s decision to contact the police about mistaking brass for bronze was peculiar, but he was even more wary of Rowland Mitchell.

Chapter 49

Friday 26
th
February, 8.30pm

By the evening the centre for the latest Woodford town gossip had migrated from the tearooms to the antiques centre and eventually settled in The Ship Inn. Cliff and Jennifer visited Paul in hospital together, and were now in the bar happily reporting that Paul was feeling a lot more comfortable, although was still in some pain.

‘Looks like I’m in the chair,’ smiled Robin as he ordered another bottle of wine from Sarah for Lisa and Gemma, a mineral water for Peter, and a fruit juice for himself. ‘What can I get you two?’

‘Oh that’s very kind of you, I’ll have a cappuccino please,’ said Cliff.

‘Nothing alcoholic?’ asked Robin.

‘No, no, I have a training run tomorrow. I am aiming for a half marathon next month so my drinking nights are few and far between at the moment. Although it does look as though I’ll be going on my own, now my training partner is laid up for several months.’ Cliff suddenly had an idea. ‘You look like a fit guy, I don’t suppose you train do you?’

Robin laughed. ‘Sorry Cliff, a few lengths of a hotel pool now and then is about the limit of my fitness routine. Jennifer, would you like a drink?’

‘Thank you Robin, I’ll have a small glass from that bottle Gemma and Lisa are sharing,’ said Jennifer, who knew she really needed to go to bed but wanted to spend a little more time in this group of friendly people.

‘You’ll join us for a drink won’t you Sarah? Young Tom can cope running the bar now the kitchen is closed can’t he? What can I get you?’

‘You are absolutely right Robin!’ laughed Sarah. ‘But don’t worry about me, I’ll bring another bottle of the wine Gemma and Lisa are drinking when I bring Cliff’s coffee over, and we can share that.’

‘Cheap round for me then!’ laughed Robin, as he collected his change and receipt.

After another three chairs had been added to the four already around the table in front of the fire and the drinks were all distributed to the right people, the group resumed their discussion about the events of the previous twenty four hours.

There was still no sign of Tony Cookson. Both Lesley and Lizzi had been at Woodford police station for much of the day, and according to the Woodford grapevine as reported by Gemma and Lisa who heard it in their tearooms, both women vehemently denied that Paul Black had made any advances of any description towards Lizzi, and neither of them had a clue as to why Tony acted in the way he did.

‘So what was it all about then?’ asked Sarah looking at Cliff. ‘Paul and Tony have been narky with each other for several months now. I remember Mike commenting on it before...well before. Hands up, I’ll admit I was as ready as anyone to believe the worst of Paul Black and totally accepted Tony’s explanation for why they were knocking heads together, but even if he did try to make a move on Lizzi the whole business about banning Tony from the auction seemed a bit excessive.’

Cliff made a decision.

‘For once, I don’t think this had anything to do with Paul’s disastrous love-life,’ he said, carefully. ‘Paul told me they had a disagreement about the catalogue description of an item of stock Tony wanted to put in for auction.’

‘Is that all? Surely not,’ Lisa looked over at her sister. ‘We disagree about our menu all the time but Gemma doesn’t come at me with a baseball bat!’

Everybody laughed and started making jokes about horsemeat on the menu.

‘I know we are not meant to know who puts what into the auctions, but Nicola and I worked out years ago that most of those delightful little bronze figures of foxes and bears, and those evocative statues of ladies in erotic poses were put in by Tony,’ Sarah said, looking at her friend for confirmation.

‘Oh, is this anything to do with fake bronzes scandal?’ asked Nicola.

Cliff sensed that someone in the group had tensed, but a quick glance around the faces of those present gave nothing away. Now he was faced with a dilemma: should he break his friend’s confidence in order to clear his name? Or keep quiet and observe what happened next.

Jennifer said ‘Dad asked Paul to check that little bronze wedding present of Dad and Gemma’s, and Paul said it was really made from brass. That is the sort of thing you are talking about isn’t it?’ she asked Nicola.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Sarah joined in. She had been doing her homework. Her love of family history and portrait miniatures had stretched to include researching the factories in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries which produced the now antique cold-painted Vienna bronzes and Art Deco nudes. ‘It would be relatively easy for someone to fake one of those in brass. All they would need to do is cast from a mould in brass, and the skill would be in the painting of the detail. It would be very difficult to tell if one of those is made of brass or of bronze. Slightly larger figures, particularly art deco erotica, would be much cheaper to cast in brass than in bronze, and would be easy to do. Many of them were silvered, so all someone would need is a small plastic tank in which to dunk the figure for the silvering process, and voila, one beautiful-looking silvered brass statue masquerading as bronze. Once you start to make bigger figures with more intricate sculpting then the cost of the materials becomes irrelevant because although brass is easier to sculpt than bronze, you can create better definition out of bronze, so the skill required would outweigh the cost of the brass.’

‘So why is this a big deal, if fakes were being legitimately made by the original factories in the nineteenth century?’ asked Lisa.

‘The fraud takes place if an auctioneer, or an antiques dealer, sells a brass figure as bronze. In the case of these small cold-painted bronzes it can mean the difference between a six centimetre high bull dog costing one hundred and twenty pounds for a brass figure compared to eight hundred and fifty for a bronze one.’

‘Are you an antiques dealer as well as a landlady of a very well-run pub?’ asked Robin.

Sarah laughed ‘No. I do love antiques though.’

‘Sarah spends hours at flea markets and auctions,’ explained Lisa. ‘You must have picked up a lot of knowledge over the years Sarah?’

‘Oh, I know a little, but certainly not as much as the professionals like Cliff. I just know what I like, and then when I am researching something I go off at tangents and discover all sorts of useless information!’

Again Cliff felt that physical shift from someone in the group, but this time instead of tensing it was as though someone had breathed a silent sigh of relief. Who was it?