The handwritten list, headed ‘The stolen property of Avril Jenkins’, stated that the Rossetti painting was the most valuable item taken, at around the £2.2 million mark. And the duvet set was the least expensive, at £32.99. Jack asked if Adam Border would have been aware what the Rossetti was worth. ‘I told him,’ she said. ‘He also knew that it wasn’t the most expensive item in the house. He stole it because my dead husband bought it for me thirty years ago. I told you this already. He knows how to upset me.’
Avril slammed one drawer shut, forced out a long, whisky-scented sigh and opened up another drawer. In the second drawer, Jack could see several leaflets for the purchase and installation of burglar alarms and security lights. Avril saw him looking. ‘I’m updating. Everything’s old and temperamental.’ A tiny smirk crept across Jack’s face. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said, catching his expression. ‘Just like me!’
He offered to help her choose the best security for her size of property and even supervise its installation by the end of the day, which immediately put her on the defensive again. ‘I’m more than capable of choosing my own security, thank you. The gate was left open because I have a delivery coming, not because I’m stupid. The downstairs doors and windows are alarmed. And I have security lights outside. And to save you asking, yes, I do turn them off when the sodding spring fox cubs start bounding about on the lawn. It’s like a bloody disco! Lights flashing on and off.’
‘Mrs Jenkins?’ Jack said with a sigh. ‘I’d like you to imagine that we’re starting again. So, please direct me to Adam’s bedroom. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d love a cup of tea.’
Adam Border’s bedroom was at the very top of the house, little more than a white box containing a queen-sized bed and small wardrobe with matching chest of drawers. There were no pictures or personal documents, although a Dior jacket still hung in the wardrobe and a neatly folded Bolongaro Trevor jumper was in the bottom drawer. The way these pricey items had been left behind made Jack think that Avril was right to suggest money was not the primary reason for the numerous alleged thefts. On top of the wardrobe was a leather carry-on flight case and, on the handle, was an old luggage label.
As Jack jotted down the flight details, he could hear shouting from outside.
A bald man wearing a blue uniform and a paper face mask was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking despondently at his feet, whilst Avril rifled through the box of groceries on her front doorstep, shouting about broken celery stems, out-of-date avocados, and various missing items. ‘You think old people will accept any old shit, well, we won’t... what’s this? A bloody replacement item that’s nothing like the thing I ordered. Take it back. And the bruised fruit. I’ll pay you when you come back with everything that’s missing.’ The bald man didn’t bother to reply. Her outburst was clearly nothing new to him.
‘Don’t worry, mate,’ Jack said. ‘You can go.’ The delivery man didn’t need telling twice, quickly heading back to his van. Jack picked up the box of groceries and took it into Avril’s kitchen before she could say anything to the contrary.
To Jack’s surprise, on the kitchen island, a pot of tea was brewing beneath a knitted tea cosy, sitting next to two mismatched cups and saucers. He placed the box of groceries on the island and poured two cups of tea. The second Avril entered the kitchen, Jack started talking so that she couldn’t have a go at him for sending the delivery man away. ‘Tell me how you met Adam Border. I know he was your odd-job man, but where did you find him?’
Whilst she replied, Avril put her groceries away — even the items she claimed not to want. ‘I heard about him from someone. Can’t recall who. I started him in the garden, which he did a good enough job of, so I moved him inside the house, fixing door handles and doing bits of tiling. He came one day to fix an outside tap and, my God, he stank! I told him as much. He apologised and that’s when he told me that for the past two weeks he’d been homeless and washing in the sink of the public toilet on the high street. So, I offered him the attic room.’ Avril glanced at Jack, pre-empting what he was about to say. ‘I’d known him long enough by then. I figure people quickly, DS Warr.’ Avril sipped her tea to indicate that she had nothing more to say on the subject. Clearly, she had been very wrong about Adam Border.
Jack drove the thirty minutes from Avril Jenkins’ house in Kingston to a potential wedding venue in Fulham. Maggie and Penny had whittled the list of possibilities down from around twenty to just three, so he was now being brought into the final part of the selection process. He had Laura on hands-free and she’d just told him that the details off the luggage tag belonged to a 10-year-old flight. British Airways couldn’t tell her much, other than the destination was Colombia and the address of the person who booked it, which she’d just texted to him. Jack asked if she’d mind checking it out.
‘When I get back, I’m probably going to request the Jenkins case is officially transferred from Kingston to us but, right now — and don’t tell Ridley — I’ve really got to go and see this wedding venue. Mags and Mum have done everything so far. If I’m a no show, there’ll both leave me!’
For a good ten seconds, Laura said nothing. For some reason, old feelings she once had for Jack were suddenly rekindled at the thought of Maggie actually leaving him. The feelings vanished just as quickly but, for a moment, Laura felt her skin heat and the hairs on her arms stand up, just as they used to each time Jack was close. When she did speak, she agreed to go and visit Adam Border’s old address.
‘Take Anik with you, Laura. Let’s play it safe until we know who we’re dealing with.’
Laura made a wry comment about being safer if she took Sheila from the canteen as backup, then put the phone down.
The venue in Fulham was a large pub with an extensive top floor, which could be hired out in part or in full. Location wise, it was perfectly situated in relation to the Chelsea Register Office. However, the manager, Mrs Kasabian, was really already getting on Jack’s nerves, directing her entire pitch, mostly aimed at guiding them towards the five-course rather than the three-course menu, at Maggie. After half an hour of rehearsed waffle, she finally looked at Jack and said, ‘I haven’t forgotten you, Mr Warr. You’re going to make the most important decision of all... to free-bar or not to free-bar? I know that’s all you grooms care about!’ To stop Jack from walking out, Maggie quickly asked Mrs Kasabian to give them ten minutes to explore on their own.
Maggie led Jack by the hand back through the rooms they could be hiring. Finally, she sat down at one of the dining tables in order to get a feel for the space.
‘I like the place,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t like her, but I like the venue.’ When Maggie asked if he thought it might be a bit small, he sat down opposite her, and laid his hands on her thighs. ‘We only need three seats and a highchair, Mags.’ As he watched the tears well up, he knew that with nine perfect words, he’d convinced her that this was the wedding venue for them.
Laura and Anik had parked one street away from Tetcott Street in Chelsea and were now walking back towards the address connected to the 10-year-old luggage label found on Adam Border’s suitcase.
The beautiful four-storey terraced house was currently owned by Mrs Flora Garner and, with no landline listed, they’d had no option but to attend the property in person. Anik was dragging his feet, whinging about being sent on an out-of-date wild goose chase, whilst Laura, pleasantly immune to his usual moaning, was fantasy house hunting.