‘You’ve never liked Christina, have you?’
‘Actually, I do rather like her. I just don’t trust her.’
‘I know she’s not a saint,’ said Beth, ‘but she’s been very generous over the years. Why can’t you give her the benefit of the doubt for once?’
‘Not while she owns several other major works, and her only interest in them in the past has been to find out how much they’re worth. So I have to ask myself, why doesn’t she just offer the Fitzmolean a picture from her late husband’s collection, rather than part with a million pounds of her own money?’
‘She told me she wanted to give the Madonna to the Fitzmolean in memory of Miles.’
‘The only thing she would have been happy to give to the museum in memory of Miles would have been his ashes. So I’m bound to ask, what’s the real reason she wants to buy the painting back?’
‘I don’t know, Chief Inspector Warwick. But why are you always so suspicious of other people’s motives, particularly Christina’s?’
‘That’s part of my job description, I’m afraid. But let me ask you another question. Why does Christina need you to bid on her behalf, when she could so easily do it herself?’
‘That’s easy to answer. She’ll be in Monte Carlo on the evening of the sale.’
‘They don’t have phones in Monte Carlo?’
‘She doesn’t want anyone else to know she’s bidding.’
‘Like who?’
‘Tim Knox, for example.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense. He’s the director of the gallery and you should certainly let him know what she’s asked you to do. If anything goes wrong, he’ll never trust you again, and you might even lose your job.’
‘But Christina would never forgive me if I broke my word.’
‘Then perhaps you should ask yourself why she chose you, and even more important, who’s the seller?’
‘The Brompton Oratory,’ said Beth. ‘They need the money for a new roof.’
‘Now that’s something I do believe. But who gave the painting to them in the first place? Because it certainly wasn’t Miles Faulkner, who worshipped Mammon, not God.’
‘In the catalogue it’s described as The Property of a Lady, which usually means the owner doesn’t want their name revealed.’
‘If you can find out who the mystery lady is, I suspect you’ll also discover why Christina wants you to be seen buying the painting.’
‘What makes you so convinced of that?’ asked Beth.
‘The Brompton Oratory just happens to be the church where the late Mrs Rashidi worshipped, when she lived in The Boltons.’
‘That could just be a coincidence,’ said Beth, trying to distract him.
It was William’s turn to remove a hand.
‘Is it also a coincidence that the late Assem Rashidi was in Pentonville at the same time as Miles Faulkner, the previous owner of the Raphael?’
‘What does that prove?’
‘I don’t know, but it might explain why Christina doesn’t want anyone else except you to know that she’s the buyer.’
‘But if I do get the painting for a million or less, your theory bites the dust, and you with it!’
‘Agreed.’
‘In which case Christina is a saint, and you’re just a boring old cynic.’
‘Christina’s no saint, and there’s only one way we’re going to find out if I’m a boring old cynic.’
‘Enlighten me,’ said Beth, imitating the Hawk.
‘While you’re at the gallery bidding over the phone on Christina’s behalf, I’ll be at Christie’s, and I can assure you, I won’t be looking at the auctioneer.’ William turned out the light and began to move a hand up the inside of Beth’s thigh.
‘Interesting what turns you on, caveman.’
32
‘What am I bid?’ said William, as he climbed out of bed the following morning and headed for the bathroom.
‘As long as I get the Raphael for less than a million,’ said Beth, ‘I don’t really care, because an old cynic will be taking me to Elena’s tonight to celebrate my triumph.’
‘And if it’s sold to someone else for more than a million, what then?’
‘Humble pie will be served in the kitchen, chief inspector.’
‘I prefer Elena’s,’ said William as he closed the bathroom door. Not for the first time, he reflected that, for Beth, every glass was half full, which was one of the many reasons he adored her. He hoped he would be proved wrong, but he feared this particular glass was half empty.
He turned on the hot water and looked at himself in the mirror. He occasionally missed that time when he’d been working undercover and didn’t have to shave every day. And then he remembered, today he would be undercover.
‘How much do you think Booth Watson will have to bid?’ asked Christina, as they waited in the queue at the departure gate.
‘A million one, a million two, at most,’
‘That’s a lot of money to pay for a fake,’ said Christina.
‘I don’t have much choice,’ responded Miles. ‘If another bidder got hold of the painting and then discovered it was a fake, you’d not only have to hand over the original, but clever Inspector Warwick might just put two and two together, and then we’d both end up in the slammer.’
Miles handed his boarding card and passport to the officer at the desk, who turned to the last page of his passport, checked the photograph and passed it back to him.
‘Have a good flight, Captain Neville,’ she said.
The director listened with great interest to what Beth had to say before he offered an opinion. ‘You say Mrs Faulkner gave you a cheque for a million pounds so you could bid for the Raphael on our behalf?’
Beth handed over the cheque.
Tim read the figure and smiled. He then began tapping his fingers on the desk, always a sign that he was deep in thought. ‘We currently have a million pounds in our acquisition fund,’ he eventually said, ‘so I’m going to give you the authority to bid up to two million, which should be more than enough to acquire the painting.’
‘Do I let Christina know your decision?’
‘Of course, but don’t say anything until I’ve run it past our chairman of trustees and got his approval.’
‘What are you grinning about?’
‘The thought of the gallery owning a Raphael.’
Christina picked up the phone, and when she heard the voice on the other end of the line, she was relieved that Miles was out on his morning run.
She listened carefully to what her friend had to say, but didn’t respond immediately. Beth was beginning to wonder if Christina had put the phone down on her because she’d broken her word by telling Tim about their arrangement, but then the silence was finally broken. ‘I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t bid up to two million,’ said Christina. ‘Good luck.’
She smiled at the thought of Miles having to pay double the amount he’d planned to buy back his own fake. She heard the front door slam, and put down the phone without saying goodbye.
William found it hard to concentrate when he briefed Inspector Cole on his responsibilities as the new head of the anti-corruption unit.
‘I’m not exactly excited by the idea of spying on my colleagues,’ admitted Cole, over a pint of Bass and a pork pie.
‘I’ve found it helps if you think of them as corrupt, rather than as colleagues,’ said William, ‘and every bit as bad as any other criminal.’
Cole went across to the bar and bought a second round of drinks, but when he returned to their table he still didn’t look convinced. ‘So, are you looking forward to leading a murder team, as a Senior Investigating Officer?’