Maya kept bringing the conversation back to my antique shop, which was fine with me. I knew she was working her way around to asking me about Trevor, just as I was interested in finding out where she and her husband acquired their furniture and if Trevor had played a role. That opportunity came for both of us when she gave me a tour of her house. We were in the master bedroom, which was completely white, or rather ivory, not what I would have chosen in this northern climate which seemed to me to cry out for something warmer, but striking just the same. I knew what it had been modeled on, right down to the last detaiclass="underline" the bedroom Charles Rennie Mackintosh had designed at 78 Southpark Avenue, now reassembled and part of the Hunterian Art Gallery of the University of Glasgow. I knew that because I’d seen it.
“Lovely Mackintosh reproduction,” I said. “Fabulous workmanship. Where did you get this made?”
“Isn’t it real?”
“Some of it is, but the bed is a reproduction for sure. It’s a queen for one thing. The real bed was smaller.”
“I wish I knew more about it,” she said. “I should, I know, because Robert is so keen on it. This was Robert’s home long before I moved in. He and his first wife lived here. You would have to ask him. I would have liked to change it, not because it isn’t attractive, but you know, when you follow another woman into a home you’d prefer to, um, erase all traces of the previous relationship. But I can’t. I have been able to change a lot, but not the bedroom, wouldn’t you know, nor Robert’s dressing room and study next door. He’s not here, so we can take a peek at that, too, if you like.”
“I would,” I said. We went down a short corridor, and into a rather dark room, its large window covered with heavy drapes. It was filled with dark furniture, pleasantly masculine, and lined with photos of Robert at important moments of his life. In one or two he was in military uniform, not surprising given his comments about his past as an army captain at the fund-raiser, in others he was with various important people including a couple of British prime ministers, a wedding photo in which both he and Maya looked very fetching, and a photograph of a woman I didn’t know. I noticed Maya’s eyes were fixed on that photo.
“Was your husband in the military for long?” I asked, trying to get her to stop looking at the photo.
“Several years,” she said. “I think he was planning to be a career soldier, but he got interested in business, and certainly he has been very successful. I don’t think he has any regrets about leaving the military, although he does talk about it a great deal. He was in a lot of the hotspots, Croatia and places like that, so I guess there was a lot of male bonding. Some of his men still drop by to see him from time to time. That’s how we found Drever. Drever served in the army and was posted with peacekeepers in Afghanistan. He left the forces when he came back, did odd jobs for a while before Robert offered him the job here. He is not what you would call a natural at gardening or anything, but he’s willing, and it’s good to have someone here all the time. There’s a very nice little apartment in the house and he lives there. He tends to the place when we’re in Glasgow. I guess what I’m saying is that while Robert’s army career is over, it’s still very much a part of him.”
“What business is Robert in?” I said.
“Lots of things,” she said. “He invested in a few businesses with a couple of his army buddies, light manufacturing, textiles and so on, and now I guess he makes most of his money on his investments. I don’t really know, to tell you the truth.”
“It’s a very attractive man’s room, but I like your white wicker in the sunroom better,” I said.
“Me, too,” she said. “That room I got to decorate exactly the way I like it.”
“I think the pieces in this room are genuine, unlike the bedroom,” I said. “Did you know that Trevor Wylie was killed over a piece of reproduction furniture?”
“Trevor Wylie,” she said. “You know I thought that name was familiar when you mentioned it in Glasgow, but I can’t recall who he is, or was. I must have confused him with someone else. Or maybe I did meet him somewhere else. You did mention he was killed, I recall.”
“I’m afraid so. He was a Toronto antique dealer, but born here in Orkney, I understand.”
“Really? Maybe that’s why the name is familiar. My husband can’t recall the name at all, so if we did meet, it can’t have made much of an impression. I expect I’m just confused. I’m having trouble with names these days. I believe it’s common with women my age.”
“It does seem to be,” I said, and we both laughed.
“Robert thinks I must have read about him, about the murder, and just assumed I knew him. Do I recall your saying he was killed over a reproduction?”
“Yes. Apparently he sold a fake Mackintosh writing cabinet to the wrong guy. That man has been charged with Trevor’s murder. I guess he figured it out and wasn’t happy.”
She thought about that for a minute. “Did you not say you were looking for a Mackintosh writing cabinet?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a client who wants one.” I justified the lie by telling myself that if I found one I could almost certainly sell it. “I’d prefer it to be the real thing, but now that I see the reproductions here, I have to say I’m impressed. No wonder Trevor could pass one off as real if there is workmanship as good as this around here. At least I assume it’s around here, given you have several pieces.”
“I really don’t know. It was here when I got here. Robert hasn’t let me change a thing in this room either. I think he wants it to remain exactly the same forever.”
Actually, I didn’t think that was true. Indentations in the carpet of Robert’s room indicated to me that the furniture had been rearranged at some point in the not too distant past. Maybe Maya knew that, and maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t get into this inner sanctum often, a wild guess on my part that was confirmed when Maya looked out the window and quickly led me from the room. A minute or two later, we heard the front door open. “I’m back, darling,” Robert called out.
“I’m upstairs,” Maya replied. “With a guest.” By the time Robert found us we were sitting in Maya’s dressing room cum den looking at photographs of their condo in Spain.
“You remember Lara McClintoch,” Maya said. “I invited her to visit and here she is. She was just driving down the road and she saw me working in the garden.”
“Wonderful! I saw a mystery car in the driveway, and wondered who was visiting. Will you stay for dinner? Maya would love to have company here, as would I.” He was speaking to me but he was looking at Maya.
“Please do,” Maya said.
“I’d love to, but I am meeting a friend for dinner.” What I meant was that I was planning to do what I’d done unsuccessfully the previous evening after dropping Percy off, which is to say to comb the restaurants of Kirkwall looking for Willow. She was a tourist. She had to eat somewhere.
“Some other time, then,” Robert said.
“Lara is wondering where you got the reproductions in the bedroom,” Maya said. “I couldn’t help her.” Robert turned his full attention to me.
“I think I told you I was looking for a Mackintosh writing cabinet for a customer,” I said. “Which I am, so if you hear of one, and you don’t want it for yourself, of course, I’d love to know about it. But I was just blown away by the reproductions in the master bedroom. It is such a gorgeous room. I do carry some reproductions, plainly marked as such, of course, and given most people can’t afford their own Mackintosh and he’s so popular now, I thought that might be a good line for our shop. Can you tell me who made it for you? It must have been custom work.”