‘No,’ says Nina. ‘Perhaps he said, “I’ll see you soon,” nothing more than that.’
‘And he didn’t mention the heroin to you?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘Heroin? Of course not,’ says Nina. ‘He would have known what my reaction would be.’
‘You wouldn’t have been tempted to make a bit of money?’ Joyce asks.
‘No one would blame you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You were the first person he rang, so no one else would ever find out?’
‘I thought you said you weren’t the police?’ says Nina.
There is a quiet knock at the door, and Nina tells the visitor to come in. A slightly stooped, balding man who could be anywhere between mid forties and late sixties enters the room. His entrance, like his knock, carries an air of apology.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘You summoned me, m’lady?’
‘This is Professor Mellor,’ says Nina Mishra. ‘He’s, how would you describe it, Jonjo?’
‘Sort of your boss?’ suggests Jonjo.
‘How lovely to meet you, Professor Mellor,’ says Joyce, standing. ‘I’m Joyce, and this is Elizabeth, who is also sort of my boss.’
Professor Mellor nods to Elizabeth, who nods back, and takes a seat.
‘We have a “once a week”,’ says Nina. ‘In the department. Share our worries. And, I hope you don’t mind, but I shared my worries with Jonjo. He does advisory work with some of the local auction houses.’
‘Military mainly,’ says Jonjo.
‘So someone else did know?’ notes Elizabeth.
‘I just thought he might be useful,’ says Nina.
‘It’s fascinating,’ says Jonjo. ‘Murder aside, quite fascinating. Is that quite the word? You are friends of the dead gentleman?’
‘We are looking into his death,’ says Elizabeth, wondering whether Jonjo’s guileless manner is an act. Good one if it is.
‘Nina was the last person to speak to Kuldesh,’ says Joyce.
‘That we know of,’ says Elizabeth.
‘That you know of,’ says Jonjo, taking an orange out of his pocket and starting to peel it. ‘And there’s the rub. We might see a million white swans, and yet we are not able to say that all swans are white. Yet we see just one black swan, and we can say with absolute certainty that not all swans are white.’
‘A swan chased Alan the other day,’ says Joyce.
‘Orange segment?’ says Jonjo, offering one to any takers. Joyce takes one.
‘Vitamin C is the most important vitamin after vitamin D,’ she says.
‘Do you know much about the drugs trade, Nina?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘Or you, Professor Mellor? Does one come across such things in your line of work? Boxes full of heroin and what have you?’
‘A parcel full of heroin?’ says Jonjo. ‘More intriguing still.’
‘You hear of companies using antiques as a front,’ says Nina.
‘Importing things that shouldn’t be imported,’ adds Jonjo.
‘But that’s way above Kuldesh’s pay grade,’ says Nina. ‘He had a little council lock-up garage somewhere in Fairhaven. Where he would keep a few things “off the books”, but nothing like this, I’m sure of it.’
‘Would you happen to know where that lock-up is?’ Elizabeth asks.
Nina shakes her head. ‘Just that he had one.’
‘If I might ask a final question,’ says Elizabeth. ‘We know that Kuldesh rang you at around four p.m., yes? And he didn’t ask to meet you?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ confirms Nina.
‘So you say,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You are the only witness to what was said in that call.’
‘You’re very fierce,’ says Jonjo. ‘I like it.’
‘Minutes later, Kuldesh made another phone call,’ says Elizabeth.
‘But we can’t trace who to,’ says Joyce.
‘So my question is this,’ says Elizabeth. ‘If you were to come into possession of this heroin in the way Kuldesh had, and you decided, for whatever reason, to sell it, who would you ring?’
‘Samantha Barnes,’ says Nina.
‘Samantha Barnes,’ agrees Jonjo, without hesitation.
‘I’m afraid you both have me at a loss,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Antiques dealer,’ says Jonjo. ‘Lives in a stately home just outside Petworth.’
‘Do many antiques dealers live in stately homes?’ Joyce asks.
‘They do not,’ says Jonjo.
‘Unless –’ says Elizabeth.
‘Well, quite,’ agrees Nina. ‘She’s very well connected. I’m scared of her, but I suspect you two won’t be.’
‘I suspect so too,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Is she the sort of person who might have an opinion on heroin?’
‘She is the sort of person who would have an opinion on everything,’ says Nina.
‘Not another one,’ says Joyce.
‘And Kuldesh would have known her?’
‘Would have known of her, at the very least,’ says Nina.
‘Then I wonder if we might pay Samantha Barnes a visit,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Canterbury, Petworth, what a social whirl,’ says Joyce.
‘Do you have her number?’ Elizabeth asks.
‘I can get it,’ says Jonjo, finishing his orange. ‘Please don’t tell her we sent you though.’
20
Samantha Barnes always looks forward to her book group. First Tuesday of every month, except for the one time Eileen was in hospital with her feet, and the one time Samantha herself was being questioned by the Metropolitan Police for defrauding the Victoria & Albert Museum. They were both free in no time.
Garth always leaves them to it. Literature is not for him – ‘The whole thing is lies, honey, none of it happened.’ He is a figure of curiosity to her friends, and people often like to turn up a little early to catch a glimpse of him. They will say, ‘Hello, Garth,’ and he will say, ‘I don’t know which one you are,’ or just ignore them completely. His authentic indifference seems to delight them.
Samantha gets that. On the day he’d walked back into the shop – big beard, plaid shirt, woolly hat – and pointed his gun straight at her, Samantha, submerged in grief, had simply started to cry. No fear, no bargaining. Let him shoot her. Garth had waited, very patiently, for her to stop crying before he spoke.
‘Why’d you sell me that inkwell?’
‘It was fun.’
‘Wasn’t fun for me.’
‘Sorry, you did park in the disabled space though.’
‘I’d only just got to England; I didn’t know about disabled spaces.’
‘Are you going to shoot me?’
‘Nah, just wanted to ask you a few questions. Where’s your husband?’
‘He died.’
‘Sorry for your loss, ma’am. You like fun?’
‘I did.’
‘You wanna buy a stolen painting?’
And she discovered, to her immense surprise, that she did.
Today, as ever, Garth hasn’t told Samantha where he is going, but, as he was carrying a cricket bat, she is very much hoping he’s gone to play cricket. You just never knew with Garth though.
Her gang of pals are knocking back the wine, and Wolf Hall is starting to get better and better reviews. Gill, who works at the vet’s on the square, says she would have given Thomas Cromwell a piece of her mind had she been around at the time. Do they know what Samantha does for a living? They must have an idea at least. Bronagh from the deli, for example, once got lost on her way to the loo and walked into a room where a newly painted Jackson Pollock was drying. Also, no one else in Petworth has a Ferrari Testarossa. The clues are there.
Samantha retires to the kitchen to make coffee. She received a phone call just before everyone arrived, and it has been worrying her. Worrying her? Perhaps that’s pushing it. Playing on her mind perhaps.