A Roman Shadow, page 4
“We were just asking Miss Heaton if she ever designed Roman jewellery,” Jimmy started to explain.
“But I told them I’m strictly art deco,” said Jacqui.
“And all that jazz,” sang Le Vel while shimmying and doing jazz hands, before directing his attention to Jimmy. “Now, Sergeant, what can I tempt you with? A soft centre, something nutty, a cheeky caramel maybe?”
While Le Vel fussed around offering Jimmy various flavours to try, Shadow had a chance to study their host. He guessed he was about forty years old, but he dressed like a much younger man. His shirt was untucked over his designer jeans and expensive trainers that Shadow was more used to seeing adorn his sergeant’s feet. He was wearing a waistcoat and an elaborately knotted silk scarf around his neck. Le Vel wore his hair in a floppy boyish style and the chief inspector strongly suspected its blond tones were chemically enhanced. Grudgingly Shadow had to admit that with his blue eyes, high cheekbones and ready smile he could be called handsome. Judging by the blushes and shy smiles, his workforce and his neighbour certainly seemed to think so.
Shadow’s nose twitched. York had a long history of making chocolate. His own mother had worked in one of the many factories after his father died. When the wind was blowing in the right direction, the sweet rich smell from the factories drifted across the city. Yet, in here there was barely any scent of chocolate at all.
“How’s business, Mr Le Vel?” he asked.
“I mustn’t grumble, Chief Inspector,” Le Vel said with another easy smile.
“Competition must be fierce in a city with so many other chocolatiers.”
“It’s all about the marketing,” replied Le Vel. Shadow raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He had thought if you were selling handmade chocolates it would be all about the taste.
“Do you make the chocolates yourself?”
“They’re all made to my specifications,” he replied smoothly, “but these lovely girls are far better at finishing the decorative details than me. Smaller hands you see.” He briefly paused and lifted the hand of one of his assistants and brushed it with his lips. The girl giggled and Shadow wondered if Le Vel had ever heard of the rules governing sexual harassment in the workplace.
“Paul does really well in the export market. He sells loads to Europe and the Far East,” gushed Jacqui. Shadow looked at Le Vel enquiringly, who raised his hands in mock embarrassment.
“I’ll never need to pay for advertising with Jac’s around will I, darling, but yes I have been very lucky with some of my international customers.”
“You are too modest, Paul! And look at these lovely shoes he bought me last time he went to China,” Jacqui continued, raising her skirt to show off her red shoes.
“I know how you struggle over here with your tiny feet, darling. She has pretty little dancer’s feet, gentlemen.”
Jacqui’s face flushed with pleasure, and she looked self-conscious.
“Well if I do, they make up for my ugly old hands.” She peeled back about an inch of her lace gloves to reveal several vivid red scars. “I was a little careless with the soldering iron when I was doing my training.”
Paul reached across, took her hand and placed a kiss on the scars.
“They are the hands of an artist,” he declared.
“Oh, Paul, you do say the sweetest things,” she simpered.
Shadow was beginning to feel quite queasy and it wasn’t from being surrounded by chocolate.
At that moment Jimmy’s phone rang loudly from inside his pocket. With an apologetic look, he swallowed down his mouthful of caramel and ducked outside to answer it. It was with some relief that Shadow took this as his cue to say goodbye to Jacqui and Le Vel. He couldn’t see either of them being much use in helping him locate the missing coins. As he left the chocolate shop, Lucy Wang was arriving, her arms full of boxes. Shadow held the door as she carefully reversed in.
“Ah luscious Lucy here to save the day,” he heard Le Vel call out. With her back to the shop, Lucy looked Shadow in the eye and stuck her tongue out as if she were being sick. Shadow gave a small smile. It seemed that at least one female was immune to Le Vel’s charms.
“That was the station, Chief,” said Jimmy as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “The receptionist from the Monk Bar Hotel called to say he thinks a member of a tour party staying there has disappeared.”
“Thinks?”
“Well it seems the tourist is a young Chinese woman. That’s why Tom called me. The receptionist was a bit flustered, but he thinks that’s what some of the other members of the tour party were trying to tell him.”
“I suppose we should pay them a visit then,” said Shadow with a sigh. “Between the museum director who doesn’t realise he’s been burgled and a girl that may or may not be missing, we are getting nowhere fast today. Didn’t you think it was strange that Le Vel never asked us why we were at Jacqui’s place before inviting us to his shop? Most people are concerned when they hear who we are. They automatically think we’re the bearers of bad news.”
“Well I guess we are usually, but maybe he didn’t want to be nosy. I just don’t think you liked him very much, Chief. You never stopped scowling all the time you were in there.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Sergeant, I was perfectly polite, but I did think he was a bit over the top, didn’t you?”
“He seemed okay,” replied Jimmy with a shrug, “and his chocolates tasted just as good as the one’s from Swinegate.”
*
The Monk Bar Hotel was situated outside the city walls and less than a two-minute walk away. It was a smart modern hotel popular with touring coach parties due to its large car park and proximity to the city centre. When the two detectives entered the lobby, they immediately saw the reception desk was surrounded by half a dozen very animated Chinese tourists. Shadow manoeuvred his way to the front and introduced himself and Jimmy to the flustered receptionist.
“Oh thank goodness you’re here,” said the red-faced young man. “They are ever so upset, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. I only got a D in GCSE French and that’s not much help at all.”
“No it wouldn’t be,” agreed Shadow. “Don’t they have a tour guide to act as a translator?”
“Yes, but he’s not answering his mobile, sir.”
Shadow turned to Jimmy, only to find the tourists had already surrounded him and were all talking to him at the same time. His sergeant was trying, not very successfully, to calm them down and make himself heard above the noise. After a few moments, he attempted to translate back to Shadow.
“They all arrived on the coach yesterday morning, but nobody has seen the girl since they were all in the Museum Gardens at about 10.30am. That’s over twenty-four hours ago now.”
“Was this girl travelling alone?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Why are they all so angry?” asked Shadow, loud enough to briefly silence the group, who turned round to stare at him.
“They aren’t really, Chief. It’s just the way the Beijing accent sounds sometimes; you know the different tones they use.”
Suddenly the whole group started talking again. An older lady wearing a yellow raincoat and large glasses began poking Jimmy in the chest.
“What now?” asked Shadow in exasperation.
“I asked them about the tour guide. They said he thinks the young woman could simply have gone to visit relatives, but this lady has just said the tour guide is an idiot and called him various rude names. That’s when the others joined in. Apparently, he isn’t living up to their expectations.”
“Well then, I think I’ll leave you to it. If you ever discover if this really is a case of a missing person, I’ll be in the Royal Oak.”
Chapter Three
Down 2.
Gertrude, Imogen, Nancy and Laura are initially not as popular as the girl from Shanghai (4 letters)
Shadow left the chaos of the hotel reception behind and headed back under Monk Bar and down Goodramgate to the Royal Oak. The pub had stood there since the seventeenth century and even at this time of year was festooned with colourful hanging baskets. He carefully walked through the door and down the steps that he had seen trip up more drunks than he cared to remember. At the bar he ordered a pint of Black Sheep and the bacon chops with fried eggs and chips. Then he took a seat on the leather bench that ran along the wall beneath the window.
He took a sip of beer and turned his head. The window looked out on to Goodramgate and was directly opposite the laundry Shadow used. It was run by Maggie, his old school friend. He could see her quite clearly standing behind the counter. It looked like she was regaling her two young assistants, Karen and Ros, with some story or other. They were laughing as she waved her arms around and pulled a series of dramatic expressions. Shadow wished he could lip-read. Then he noticed Paul Le Vel walking towards Maggie’s place carrying a tray of his chocolates aloft in one hand as if he was a waiter at The Savoy. He paused at the window, blowing exaggerated kisses to the three women inside, before pushing the door open.
Unfortunately, at that moment a brewery lorry pulled up outside, blocking his view. He frowned and took another sip of his pint before turning his attention to the information Stephanie had reluctantly provided him with. He removed the papers from his jacket pocket, unfolded them and spread them out on to the table.
*
The floor plan seemed quite straightforward. As he had guessed the museum’s café was located directly beneath the storeroom, staff room and Stephanie’s office. Next, he ran his eye down the staff list, noting that many of the names had the word ‘volunteer’ next to them. Apart from the two security guards and Stephanie herself most of the staff, employed or otherwise, had been there for years. Dr Shepherd had been there almost three years. Beneath the details of the staff, there was also a list of the Board of Trustees. There were five in total. Dunnington’s name was there, as was Stather’s and two other names Shadow recognised. Cornelius Rutherford, one of the most well-respected solicitors in the city and Jonty Woodhead, who owned a firm of accountants. The fifth name was a history professor at the university. Shadow had always found Rutherford to be helpful and decided to call the solicitor when he returned to the office.
At that moment, his lunch arrived. He quickly cleared away the papers and for a little while he forgot all about Roman coins and missing girls. He’d just finished the last mouthful and was leaning back with a satisfied sigh when Jimmy arrived, looking a little flustered.
“Sorry, I’ve been a while, Chief, it was quite difficult to get away from Mrs Chen and all the others.”
“Mrs Chen?”
“The lady wearing the large glasses and yellow coat. She was the one who insisted the hotel rang us.”
“So is the girl missing or not?”
“Yes, at least I think so—” Jimmy turned on his electronic notebook “—but it all seems a bit weird. You see, the rest of the tour party are all from Beijing. They all left China together on the same plane and got on the coach at the airport—Heathrow. They had a few days in London before heading north. At about six o’clock yesterday morning they all left their hotel outside London, but the missing girl only joined them yesterday morning at one of the motorway service stations on the M1. Mrs Chen said she didn’t speak much English, was very quiet and from Shanghai.”
“Is that important?”
“The rest of the tour found it a bit strange. I guess it would be like someone from Glasgow suddenly joining a group of Londoners. Mrs Chen also said she had the face of a pretty young girl, but the hands of an ugly old woman.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Shadow impatiently, but Jimmy only shrugged. “Do we at least have a name?”
“Yes, Ling Li.”
“Well that’s something. Ling Li from Shanghai. You can go on that internet you are so fond of and start searching.”
Jimmy groaned.
“What’s wrong?” asked Shadow. “I thought you’d be pleased. Spending the afternoon in a nice warm office messing about on your computer.”
“It’s just that Ling Li is a really popular name, Chief. Like Sarah Smith would be over here and there must be almost thirty million people in Shanghai.”
Shadow finished the last of his pint and stood up.
“Then we should probably make a move, Sergeant.”
*
When they returned to the station, Shadow’s first call was to Cornelius Rutherford.
“Oh no, who’s died now?” was the solicitor’s greeting when he heard Shadow’s voice.
“Nobody as far as I know,” replied Shadow. “I wanted to speak to you about the Eboracum Museum. I understand you are on the board.”
“Yes, for my sins. Is this about the theft? I’m pleased Dunnington has finally seen sense and called you in. For a moment, I actually think he believed he wouldn’t need to report it and could pretend the fakes are genuine.”
“Really?” asked Shadow incredulously.
“You may have noticed logic isn’t his strong point. We were at school together you know. He was a total duffer! But, well there has always been a Dunnington on the board of the Eboracum. Come to think of it I’m probably only there because a Rutherford was on the first board—another Cornelius. Jonty Woodhead is the same,” he continued referring to the head of York’s largest accountancy firm and a member of another of the city’s oldest families. “Actually, I tried to step down last year, but Tim and Jonty talked me out of it.”
“Why did you want to leave?”
“Well I was acting for Camilla, Tim’s first wife, during their divorce and I thought it might make things a tad awkward.”
“What happened with the divorce?”
“It was amicable enough in the end, I suppose. Camilla is a real stalwart. They’d been married for twenty-odd years and she practically ran the museum. She was a colonel’s daughter and had worked for the National Trust. Organising the place was second nature to her. There were never any problems when Camilla was in charge, but her mother had a stroke a few years ago, so she went home to Suffolk to help take care of her as often as she could. As her mother’s condition didn’t improve, she spent more time there, months sometimes, and the temping agency sent Stephanie to help out and, well, the rest is history as they say.”
“What about Dr Dorothy Shepherd? How would you describe her relationship with Dunnington?”
“A bit sticky. He really wanted Stather as curator, but Stather didn’t want to give up his post at the Historic Foundation. The board didn’t think he could do both roles, so the job was given to Dorothy. Naturally it doesn’t help that she’s a Quaker and Dunnington is ex-army.”
“Dunnington was a soldier?” asked Shadow in surprise. Dunnington didn’t strike him as the sort of man who could fight his way out of a paper bag let alone defend the realm.
“Yes a family tradition. His father was a major. Tim got through Sandhurst by the skin of his teeth but didn’t last much longer. His family didn’t know what else to do with him; therefore he ended up at the museum. Just another family tradition I suppose.”
*
Shadow spent the next hour telephoning various London auction houses. Each coin expert he spoke to with their cut-glass accents and double-barrelled surnames told him the same thing. No Roman coins of the quantity and quality he was describing had been seen on the open market for years and if they were to come up for auction, they would attract a great deal of interest. As he put down the telephone for the fifth time, there was a cheerful rat-a-tat-tat on the door.
“Yes, Jimmy,” called out Shadow. Sure enough the door opened and his sergeant stepped into the office. “Anything?”
“Not much, Chief. Shanghai is seven hours ahead of us, so most offices are closed, but I did finally speak to the tour guide. This is his first tour with the company. He wasn’t expecting Ling to join yesterday morning, but she told him she had missed her flight and had rushed to catch them up. Apparently, she’d hitched her way to the service station in a van. She had a ticket for the tour that looked genuine, so he let her join. I also checked with the night manager at the hotel and Ling definitely didn’t check in yesterday.”
Shadow frowned.
“If she didn’t speak much English, how on earth did she manage to tell a van driver to take her to a service station and, for that matter, how would she know where the coach would stop?”
“I don’t know, Chief,” replied Jimmy, “but anyway, as I wasn’t getting very far in the search for information about Ling Li, I googled Roman coins and some of them are really valuable. A couple of years ago, one found by a metal detectorist in Kent sold at auction for $700,000 to a private collector.”
“Yes, the auction houses told me something similar. I suppose at least we have a definite motive for the theft. All we need now is the time, the culprit and some evidence.” Shadow sighed. Jimmy’s phone started bleeping and he groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mrs Chen. She keeps texting me to see if I have found Ling yet.” His phone bleeped again several times. “Now she’s got the whole tour party involved. They are all sending me photos and videos. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give them my mobile number.”
“Let me see,” said Shadow.
“Ling is the girl in the pink sweatshirt,” said Jimmy turning the screen of his phone towards him. Shadow put his glasses on and squinted. The photo had been taken in Museum Gardens. It showed several of the group in front of the Hospitium. Shadow studied the missing girl’s face, trying to read her expression. Her smile seemed a little nervous. She certainly didn’t look like a carefree tourist enjoying her holiday.
“Mrs Chen said Ling disappeared not long after this photo was taken. What do you think, Chief, could she have been abducted or did she get separated from the group and now she’s lost? Maybe she doesn’t speak English, but if someone came across her and she was upset, then they would probably have contacted us,” Jimmy wondered aloud.
Shadow stood up as his sergeant’s phone pinged and bleeped. The sleety rain was battering his window again as he looked down on the swollen River Ouse. The brown, churning water was flowing rapidly towards Lendal Bridge. Living on Florence, his narrow boat all these years, Shadow was more aware than most of the power of the river.
