‘You two clearly have been doing your homework, haven’t you? Let me explain something. Robert Kilgore, who looks out for works of art of the fête galante period for me — the period I collect above all others — has a budget I give him, along with a figure below which he doesn’t need to obtain my sanction.’ He glanced down at the receipt. ‘These two sketches fall well below that threshold. If your enquiry is about these two sketches, you’d best go and talk to him.’
‘Can you give us his contact details?’ Branson asked.
‘Really?’ Piper retorted. ‘You mean I have something you don’t know? Top detectives — two of Sussex’s finest — and you’ve spent all this time, come all this way for a phone number? You could have just called me.’ His lips parted, just a fraction, to reveal his veneered teeth. It could have been a smile or a snarl, Grace thought.
‘Thank you, Mr Piper.’ He stood up, followed by Branson. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’
‘Any time, detectives. I’m a big supporter of the police, you know. If you ever need a donation to the Sussex Police Charitable Trust, just ask.’
‘We’ll bear that in mind,’ Grace said.
‘Very big-hearted of you,’ Branson added.
‘I’m all heart,’ Piper replied.
82
Tuesday, 5 November
On the top-right corner of the CCTV on his computer monitor, Piper tracked the movement of the silver Ford Focus heading down his drive. The gates opened. The car pulled out into the road and turned right. Immediately the gates began to close.
The two detectives had gone, but he had a worrying feeling they were not going away for long. It was 11.35 a.m. He picked up the internal phone and pressed a button.
‘Bobby, I want you to phone Harry Kipling’s mobile, find out where he is. Make out you’re a potential customer and you need an urgent quote on a job, a big one, make some shit up that will excite him. Find out his movements — what time he’ll be home this evening, say he’s been highly recommended but you have to make an urgent decision and could you pop into his house this evening — it’s the only time you can do, yadda, yadda, yadda. Get him to agree an appointment at his house tonight, understand what I’m saying?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then get your arse in here along with the boys.’
Piper put the phone down and stared at the monitor again. At the closed gates. Then he tapped his trim fingernails on the surface of his desk, tap-tap-tapping out the same monotone beat he always did when he was anxious. Hoping to hell he wasn’t already too late.
83
Tuesday, 5 November
On the occasions when Harry played a blinder of a first half at golf, the wheels invariably fell off on the back nine. But not this time, no sir! In today’s charity four-ball, he’d held it together, scoring two birdies as well as being in the running for closest to the pin on the seventeenth.
Now seated in the dining area of the Dyke Golf Club, surrounded by his pals, he was feeling stuffed after a decent and heavy late lunch of roast pork followed by blackberry and apple crumble. He was still on a high of excitement about the potential of the Bonhams sale, and had confided about the painting’s possible value to his teammates, who seemed genuinely pleased for him. Happy days!
He was sipping a cup of strong coffee as Bob Sansom and Roger Moore, the organizers of the event, stood up and made their way to the table laden with trophies to begin the prize-giving. Then he felt his phone, on silent, vibrate in his pocket.
Tugging it out, he saw it was Freya.
He answered it and stepped away from the table. ‘How’s your day been?’ she asked.
In the background he heard Bob Sansom announce they’d raised over £25,000 for the Martlets Hospice.
‘Brilliant!’ he replied. ‘We scored forty-two — which puts us with a really good chance of a prize — we might even have won!’
‘Great!’ she said, sounding genuinely pleased.
‘And I might have got nearest the pin on the seventeenth — that’s a two-hundred-quid prize!’
‘Fantastic!’ There was a brief pause and she asked, ‘What time do you think you’ll be home?’
He looked at his watch. It was just gone 5 p.m. ‘Not late. Why, darling?’
‘I’ve had a call about a job that sounds quite substantial and lucrative, a new-build in Henfield. The gentleman I spoke to said he’s been let down by the builders he was planning to use and that you’d been highly recommended to him. But he needs to see you very urgently today, if you’re interested.’
‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’
‘I thought you were going to London to take the painting to Bonhams first thing? I told him you weren’t available tomorrow and he said he couldn’t wait until Thursday.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Mike Elkington — he sounds American.’
‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘He was very charming — I think you should see him this evening, we haven’t had a decent new-build in quite a while, and he said if you can give him a price he’s happy with he won’t go out to tender. What time can you be home?’
In the background, Harry heard Bob Sansom announce the winners of nearest the pin on the thirteenth hole, and he was anxious not to miss the next announcement. Giving himself some margin, he said, ‘I could be home by seven.’
‘I’ll call Mr Elkington and tell him.’
‘Love you,’ he said.
‘Love my champion!’
Ending the call, he sat back down, only to stand up moments later and be awarded his £200 nearest the pin prize. And then again, after just a few minutes, he and his three teammates stood up to be presented with envelopes containing vouchers of £250 each for the pro shop, as well as fancy golfing umbrellas.
What a result! And when he got home, with luck there would be an even bigger result. He just had to hope this Mr Elkington wasn’t planning on nailing too hard a bargain, and would be willing to pay for a reliable builder of quality.
84
Tuesday, 5 November
When he finally left the clubhouse, a little later than he’d intended, Harry was feeling elated. And tomorrow he would collect the painting from the storage depot in Worthing and hand it for safe keeping to Bonhams. Then sit back and wait for the January auction. Maybe, just maybe, if they got really lucky, and it went in as an original Fragonard, they could make so much money from the sale he could forget the building trade altogether. Properly set Tom up, then buy a pad down on the Costa del Sol, escape the rat race and live the good life with Freya. And right now, with all the problems of Vine Cottage, he’d give up this business in a heartbeat.
Shivering against the cold air, with fireworks shooting into the darkness all across the city skyline below him and the volleys of distant explosions, he hurried over the road to the car park, put his golf bag and his sports bag with his golfing clothes into the rear of the Volvo, then climbed into the car, shut the door and immediately switched on the engine, to get the heater going.
Then, before moving off, he googled Mike Elkington and then Michael Elkington on his phone. There were a handful of name matches, but nothing that gave him a clue about the man he would shortly be meeting. No matter, he drove off, very much looking forward to meeting Mr Elkington. And determined to charm him. Oh yes!
Although he was already late, he drove home keeping carefully within the speed limits. And it was good news: although this was Bonfire Night, the roads were quiet. Tom had already been to a big fireworks party at a schoolfriend’s house on Saturday, sensibly arranged to not interrupt his studies during the school week.
As Harry drove up Mackie Crescent, he popped a piece of mint gum in his mouth, to freshen his breath for his potential new client. Approaching home, he saw a swanky Tesla on the street outside. Mr Elkington’s, he presumed, as he drove onto the driveway and parked as usual between the Fiat and his work van.