And found them just about perfect.
And all because Mike had been bored. And greedy, of course – he’d coveted the painting of Beatrice… one thing he could never own, no matter how wealthy he became. Then there was Calloway himself, offering glimpses of a very different world. At school Mike had craved an invitation to join Calloway’s gang, its pecking order dependent on heft and ruthlessness rather than brains and guile. His first year at university, he had gone off the rails. He would pick fights in the Student Union bar. At parties he was unpredictable. He probably only won half his battles, and had eventually come to his senses. had begun to conform, to fit in…
‘Jekyll and Hyde,’ he muttered to himself.
One thing still niggled. Had Calloway and Gissing been in cahoots? Mike didn’t think so, which meant that bumping into the gangster at the gallery really had been an accident – almost the only unplanned event of the whole scheme. Bringing Calloway into play had been Mike’s idea, meaning the current mess was down to him. He was sure that was how Gissing would see it…
His head was resting against the back of the sofa, eyes closed. During the slow drive Allan and he had taken around Edinburgh, he had explained some of it to his friend, adding his own best guesses and assumptions to the mix. Allan had had to stop the car once or twice, getting things straight in his head, asking questions, refusing – at least at first – to believe what he was hearing, then slapping the palms of his hands repeatedly against the steering wheel.
‘You’re a rational man, Allan,’ Mike had told him. ‘You know this is the only way it all makes sense.’
He’d then reminded Allan that Edinburgh had nurtured Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and that Doyle’s creation Sherlock Holmes had spoken the truth when he said that once you had eliminated everything else, whatever was left, however improbable it might seem, had to be the truth.
Mike wasn’t sure whether Allan would go to the police. Maybe he, too, would return home, the better to wait out his fate. As for Mike… well, his fate was already here, announcing itself by way of the one creaky floorboard in the hallway.
But then he heard a voice calling his name, forming it as a question and sounding concerned.
‘Laura?’ he called back, getting to his feet. He realised he hadn’t switched on any of the lights, but none of the blinds were closed, meaning he could make her out well enough as she emerged into the room. ‘Just doing a bit of redecorating,’ he explained as she stood open-mouthed, arms by her sides.
‘What happened?’
‘A slight falling-out.’
‘Who with? Godzilla?’
He managed a tired smile. ‘What are you doing here?’
She had walked further into the room, negotiating her way around the shards of glass. ‘I’ve been trying your phone – both your phones. When you didn’t answer, I got scared. Mike, what have you gotten yourself into?’ He didn’t really need to answer. She’d picked up the portrait of Beatrice. ‘I knew it,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Knew it was you behind the heist. How did you do it?’
‘Switched the originals for copies.’ It sounded so simple and straightforward when put like that.
‘Which Gissing then verified?’ She nodded slowly. ‘So he’s in on it, too? But what about the missing paintings?’
He gave a shrug. ‘Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. See, all the time I thought I was part of a team, I was actually being groomed as the patsy.’ He managed a dry chuckle at his own hubris. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’ He raised his own empty water glass.
‘No.’
‘Don’t mind if I…?’ He made for the kitchen again, Laura following. ‘Actually, I wasn’t the only patsy,’ he went on. ‘I made the mistake of bringing an outsider on board.’
‘Calloway?’ she guessed.
‘And it was decided that he would make the perfect fall guy. He’s a philistine, you see, and that’s what this whole thing was about – us versus them.’
‘So Ransome was right all along… you and that thug were partners?’
‘Allan was in on it, too, and a student at the art college called Westie.’
‘Plus Professor Gissing,’ she added.
Mike drained the glass before answering. ‘Above all of us, yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Professor Robert Gissing. He’s done a runner with all the missing paintings.’
‘I’ve never liked him. And I was never really sure what you saw in him.’
‘I wish to Christ you’d tried warning me.’
She was still holding the Monboddo. ‘And all for this?’
‘All for that,’ he conceded.
‘Why is it so important, Mike?’
‘I think you know the answer.’
‘She looks like me, is that what you’re saying?’ Laura studied what was left of the portrait. ‘You do realise there’s something slightly creepy about that? I mean, you could just have asked me for a date instead.’
‘We had a date, Laura – didn’t work out too well…’
‘You give up too easily.’ She was still studying the painting. ‘Who did this damage?’
‘Hate.’
‘I’m sorry?’
He realised she didn’t know about Hate. ‘He’s a man Calloway owes money to – it’s a long story.’
Neither of them said anything for the best part of a minute. Laura broke the silence.
‘You’re going to go to jail, Mike.’
‘Believe it or not, Laura, jail’s way down my schedule of concerns right now.’
Just as Mike had done before, Laura was trying to push the canvas back into something like its original shape. ‘She was lovely, wasn’t she?’
‘She was.’ Mike agreed. Then he corrected himself: ‘She still is.’
Laura was blinking back tears. Mike wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until the world evaporated around them. He turned round and placed the glass on the draining board, then gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. He could hear her putting down the painting, then her arms were wrapping themselves around him from behind, her head resting against his shoulder.
‘What are you going to do, Mike?’
‘Run away,’ he said, only half joking. ‘With you, if you like.’ What were the alternatives? He could hand the money over to Calloway and Hate, as requested, but they would always have a stranglehold on him, and he doubted he would see an end to the payments until the well was dry. Then there was the curator – when he turned up dead, or merely mangled, the police would have something else to investigate. And with Ransome’s input they’d soon be visiting the penthouse flat with difficult questions for its owner.
‘I’ll call Ransome,’ Laura stated. ‘You must see it’s the only sensible option.’
Mike turned towards her. ‘Sense hasn’t played much part in this so far,’ he said. Her arms stayed loosely around him. Their faces were only an inch or so apart, but there was something moving in the shadows of the living area. Mike looked over Laura’s shoulder.
‘Don’t let us stop you,’ one of Calloway’s henchmen drawled, adding for his partner’s benefit: ‘That’s twenty notes I owe you.’
The other man smiled. ‘Told you, didn’t I? The flat’s worth checking, no matter what the boss says.’ Then, to Mike: ‘You going to give us any trouble, Mackenzie?’
Mike shook his head. Laura had released her grip on him and had swung round to face the two intruders. ‘But she’s not part of this,’ Mike explained. ‘Let her go, and then I’ll come with you, anywhere you like.’
‘Sounds reasonable.’ Glenn and Johnno were in the kitchen now. ‘Mr Calloway should be fronting one of those TV design shows, shouldn’t he?’ Johnno said. ‘Renovations while you wait…’
Both men laughed at this. Their eyes were on Laura rather than Mike. He placed a hand on her arm. ‘Off you go, then,’ he instructed.
‘And leave you with these two animals?’
‘Just go!’ He gave her a little nudge in the back. She glowered at Calloway’s underlings.