‘This had better be good Jack, and I don’t want some lengthy excuse. Just get straight to the nitty-gritty.’
He handed her the glass of wine and took a long slug of his own before coming to sit beside her. ‘This is going to be hard to believe. Sorry, but I have to begin back when Marius and I went to Portobello Road and saw the frame shop was a crime scene. Because of my association with the place, and obviously with Adam, I kept my distance, right?’
‘Jack, you told me this earlier.’ Maggie closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow as Jack continued. He finally got to the crime itself. ‘Crucified! Are you serious?’
‘Yes, but he is, or was, still alive. So next I discovered from the registration of Adam’s Jeep, and a bit of searching on Google Earth, that it was associated with a rented property in Haslemere. That’s where I’ve been; a sumptuous bloody property leased by Adam and his girlfriend. She was pretty sumptuous as well.’
‘You mean he wasn’t living at that school hall place?’ Jack nodded. He then told her all about his conversation with Helga. Then he went into the bathroom, cleaned his teeth, got into his PJs and joined her in bed to finish his wine.
‘There is one thing I need to Google in the morning. Something Helga said about a radiocarbon technique that tells the ages of paintings... whatever it is, it made Adam freak out. She said she didn’t understand, and I don’t either, but I’ll research it tomorrow.’
Maggie turned off her bedside light and Jack did the same. ‘So this gorgeous woman just accepts being picked up and droppedwhenever he feels like it? I don’t believe it.’
‘Well, look how he drew me in. There’s something about him, Mags.’
‘I’ve listened to you going on about him,’ Maggie said, ‘and I must admit you had me convinced, too, but to me there was always something untrustworthy there. I mean, I know I never met him, but I can tell there’s something evil about him. I can almost feel it, even if you can’t. And you only have her word for it that he was not in London. You need to be very careful. I mean, how many times have you been in and out of that framer’s shop? And the school. God forbid anyone finds a connection between you and him. Do you know which hospital the victim was taken to?’
Jack was fast asleep. She looked at him and sighed. She sometimes felt so protective of him, more than she probably should. At least he was sleeping these days; it had been a while since he’d had a nightmare or fallen out of the bed. As she drifted off to sleep, she tried to pinpoint what Jack found so fascinating about Adam. She decided that it was his knowledge, his passion, his cunning. All attributes Jack showed in his policework when his mind was in the right place. Suddenly the Harry Lime theme tune started up in her head. That bloody film! As the plot ran through her weary mind, she wondered if it was a sign... a message even. Was Adam playing some sort of twisted game with Jack?
The next morning Maggie was up and getting ready in the bathroom while Jack was still sound asleep. She could hear Hannah and Penny moving around, so she pulled on a dressing gown and slippers before going downstairs to sort out breakfast. After preparing bottles for Charlie, she went up to the nursery. Hannah was having a bath and creating her usual mayhem with too many bubbles and too much splashing.
When Hannah was dressed she went to wake Daddy as he had promised her a trip to the park and the slides. He awoke with a start as she jumped on the bed and then sleepily put his hands up in a defeated gesture, begging for five minutes to come round properly.
Sunday morning was up and rolling in earnest by nine, with bacon and eggs for Maggie and Jack, pancakes for Hannah and Penny and Charlie was playing, wedged into a highchair with cushions as he was becoming more boisterous by the day.
Maggie was still in her dressing gown as Penny struggled to get Hannah into her puffa jacket, tie her shoes and give her a bag of stale bread for the ducks. Penny also stuffed Hannah’s beloved skipping rope into her coat pocket.
‘Are you taking Charlie as well, Jack?’
‘No, Mum. It takes all my effort to not let Hannah swim with the ducks.’
An hour or so later Maggie had the TV on in the bedroom, listening to the BBC news, but there had been no bulletin regarding the incident at the framer’s shop nor any police request for information. She dressed in a pale blue tracksuit, deciding not to do any further painting in the loft but to have a nice, relaxed Sunday instead. Jack had still not returned from his outing with Hannah, so she went to join Penny.
‘Anything I can do, Penny?’
‘No, dear, all under control. I was thinking I’ll do lunch for about one thirty.’
‘Fine by me, I’ll set the table later. Just going into Jack’s office.’
Jack bought several Sunday papers on the way to the park and was eager to look through them for any mention of the murder. First, though, Hannah wanted to feed the ducks.
Hannah delved into the bread bag and did exactly what Jack had told her not to do, hurling whole slices into the water with gleeful giggles. There was a flap of wings as a swan moved quickly to snatch a slice. Hannah screamed as the huge white wings flapped close to her head and, as she turned to run away, she slid in the mud and her feet went into the water. Jack quickly dropped his papers and grabbed her, hauling her back onto the path. The bread bag floated away while his newspapers lay soaked in the mud.
Jack shook his head at Hannah. ‘You see what happens when you don’t listen? Look at that feeding frenzy now.’
‘My feet are all wet, Daddy!’ Hannah wailed. ‘And there’s mud on my school shoes!’ Jack sighed. So much for a restful Sunday.
Back at home, Hannah explained that it was Daddy’s fault she’d fallen into the pond. ‘You’re a naughty fibber, Hannah,’ Jack told her, wagging a finger. ‘Those shoes were expensive,’ Maggie said sadly.
Once lunch was served, everything quietened down. Afterwards, Jack retreated to his office to see if there was anything on the database about the murder. Maggie came in to say that Charlie had conked out after half a bottle, which must be down to all the bouncing he’d done after breakfast.
‘I think we need to take Hannah in hand,’ Jack said. ‘She’s becoming a spoilt brat. She doesn’t think she has to listen to a word anyone says and Mum spoils her rotten. You should have a word. It was totally her fault she ended up in the pond.’
Maggie pretended she hadn’t heard him. ‘Did you read the thing I printed out for you? I’ve been reading that you can determine a painting’s age by the ratio of carbon-14 isotopes it contains. There was an article about a painting supposedly painted in 1866. But by examining miniscule strands of the canvas, they discovered it had actually been painted in 1980 because the binder in the paint had higher than normal levels of carbon-14 isotopes.’ Jack glanced at the printout, reading as Maggie continued to explain. ‘It’s something about the Hiroshima bomb being a definite point in history when the levels of isotopes in the air changed forever. So, it accurately dates certain things. Before August 1945, a certain level of carbon-14 isotopes were naturally occurring. After 1945, it was higher. That’s how they spot fakes. Cool, right?’
‘Yeah, very interesting.’ Jack thought for a moment. ‘From what Helga said, it sounded like Adam had found a way around it.’
Jack’s mobile rang — Laura — bringing the conversation to an end. Maggie left Jack to it.
‘You read the papers?’ she asked him.
‘Not yet. I took Hannah to the park.’