Guilty Pleasures, page 13
‘Will you tell Robin I’m on to Cashmere Roll-Neck? Is he all right, by the way? He seems really edgy.’
‘Edgy doesn’t begin to describe it. I’m really worried about him, but he’s so offhand, it’s hard to ask all the sympathetic questions a friend should put. I know he’s overworked, and domestic things seem to be getting on top of him. He’s really worried about the future of St Jude’s – and now X’s death, of course.’
‘Sounds to me as if he’s not been the shoulder to cry on I hoped he’d be.’
‘His poor shoulders are so hunched, it’d be hard to find anywhere to lean. Ah!’ I added with a grin, ‘Griff’s back – I just heard him call.’
‘And what will you tell him about us?’
‘The way he is, he’ll probably tell me.’
SEVENTEEN
Griff, however, barely had time to do more than drop a bunch of exciting-looking bags in the kitchen and sink into his favourite chair with a cup of green tea before the Kent police arrived, in the form of a tough-looking officer I’d met before, Steve – never Chalky – White. Then he’d been in uniform. Now he was in CID, he said with a grin that removed most of the Neanderthal from his features. He was here to talk about X. You could see him put quotation marks round the letter.
‘Trouble is, we’ve no idea who he is, and we hoped you could fill us in a little, Mr Tripp. We gather that you were at least acquainted with him.’
‘I’ve never used his real name, ever. Even to Lina he was always X. Because I promised I wouldn’t. I’m not even sure the name he gave me is his real name, because he didn’t trust many people. He scavenged car-boot sales and skips, and despite his perpetual fug of alcohol he had an eye for a bargain. He bought dirt cheap and sold for not very much more. Lina was shocked at how little I paid him, but that was part of the deal. He told me if I gave him twenty pounds, it would become twenty pounds’ worth of alcohol. He didn’t need to tell me that such an amount could be fatal. He made regular trips here and, I should imagine, to other dealers. I never asked, though, Mr White, because I was sure he wouldn’t tell me. Once he came to find DI Morris of the Met Fine Arts Squad having breakfast here. I should be very surprised if he told him any more about himself. And very recently he came across Lina, I hear – who fed him well and gave him a couple of pounds more than he’d have got out of me.’ He flashed me a loving smile.
‘Did he always bring good quality items, sir?’
‘Sometimes he brought absolute pups. I still paid him. Once he brought an item I sold for thousands. I still gave him no more than a tenner. But he wanted me to know if anything happened to him. If he died, of course,’ he corrected himself angrily. ‘I don’t think he expected it to be in a comfortable bed. He said he always carried a slip of paper telling whoever found him to contact me.’ Griff’s voice was very bleak. ‘Always,’ he added.
Steve’s head jerked back. ‘I don’t think – I’d better check on that, sir.’
‘Please do. It may have significance. You know that someone forced his way into our cottage recently – I’ve only just returned from a touch of convalescence. The intruder gained admittance by claiming he had news of X for me.’
Steve had done his homework. ‘You didn’t say that in your statement, sir.’
‘So I didn’t. Because X wouldn’t have thanked me for bringing him to your attention. But now he’s dead, I can.’
‘You still refer to him as X, sir.’
‘My apologies. Graham Parker. I believe he was in what they now call the military, which is surely an adjective, not a noun. Another Americanism, I fear. The SAS. So he was a tough man. I only dared mention his family once. I believe the expression is “being blanked out”. As for his daily doings, I know nothing. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, Officer. I took the view that as long as he came here for regular amounts of money – and yes, I fed him too, Lina, when he would accept it – I was keeping together what little was left of his self-esteem. In fact, I was always surprised to see him again – constantly afraid that one of your colleagues would bring the sad news of his death, brought by that slip of paper which I deduce has not been found. Or acted on?’ Griff shot him a suddenly sharp look.
Steve took the hint. Producing his mobile, he asked Griff if he could make a call.
‘You’ll find the best coverage over by the door.’
We watched Steve’s face. We knew the answer before he gave it.
‘So what happened to it?’ he wondered aloud, sitting down hard. He produced that grin again, but an ironic version, making him look very sinister. ‘Your visitor might know. And I’ve some news, sir. Normally in a case like this, the PM is low priority. It’s suddenly jumped up the list.’
Griff nodded. ‘Are you ex-army yourself?’
‘I look as if I should have been, you mean? Actually, my degree was in Divinity.’
I tried not to goggle and even harder not to squeak when I piped up, ‘He sold me a snuffbox. Pretty well the twin of the priceless one I talked about on TV. It was a fake,’ I said bluntly. ‘I didn’t say anything so I don’t know if he knew it was. But he was ready to grab it back when I asked him if he’d got it from near Bossingham. Does this mean he knew something or that he just didn’t like being questioned?’ I asked, meaning the question for Griff.
‘More likely just the latter,’ he said.
If I hadn’t been to London, Griff reasoned, London should come to me. The bags he’d had to leave in the kitchen were full of things he hoped would please me. The plunder this time included the latest phone, with every app in the world: I’d have to ask Morris to talk me through using it, since Griff handed it over as if it had dropped from a spaceship. There were prettier undies than I’d ever have bought for myself, unguents to keep me eternally youthful and sweet smelling, a palette of eye make-up, and so many titbits from Harrods Food Hall we might never have to cook again. Actually, these were really for Griff, but I accepted them as part of the whole coney . . . corny . . . the whole overflowing horn thing they had on statues with flowers and fruit tumbling out. I’d have to look it up. There was even another bear from Aidan, another limited-edition button-eared Steiff. They really had started to attach themselves to me, like the beginning of an expensive collection, but I relegated them to my bookshelves so that Tim, who cost comparatively little but who was worth more than rubies, wouldn’t feel threatened.
Cornucopia!
Griff’s face had healed nicely, and he tried desperately to bubble with enthusiasm about his trip.
‘There’s no need,’ I said, pouring him a more generous pre-supper drink than usual. ‘I hardly knew X, but I feel sort of sore, here.’ I pressed my heart. ‘Did you really tell Steve White everything about him?’
‘Everything I knew. Which was nothing. Family? Friends? There must be people out there wondering what happened to dear old Graham, or to that strange Mr Parker. And now they may find out the most horrible way.’
While I put out a selection of the Harrods’ delights, Griff checked the messages I’d taken for him and his personal, as opposed to our business, emails. The phone rang. I was ready to dive for it, but of course he was in the office already, so I was jumping up and down by the time Griff returned.
‘Josie,’ he said. ‘Apparently, your double is alive and kicking in St Leonard’s. She’s seen her twice on the bus. But, of course, poor Josie isn’t up to tailing anyone, not unobtrusively at least, poor darling.’ He looked at me. ‘Do I gather that dear Josie wasn’t the person you hoped was phoning?’
‘It’s the news I didn’t want. I’ve a nasty feeling it’s not going to turn out well, this double.’
He hugged me, but then held me so he could look at my face. ‘Could she be a half-sister? Would this worry you? You’ve pretty well got your father house-trained at last. Are you afraid this newcomer will upset the tenor of your existence?’
I let him see that I was trying hard to work things out. ‘I think my father and I are gradually managing a working relationship, not really father and daughter for all he wants me to call him Pa. Yes!’ He’d know my smile wasn’t altogether wholehearted. ‘Quite a breakthrough. And in the past, when he thought other people might have some claim on him, he went out of his way – for him! – to reassure me that they’d have to work their passage, same as I’d done. So that’s not really a problem. It’s just the fact that this other Lina’s obviously really upset someone else very badly. The guy at the Cathedral,’ I reminded him. ‘I met him again in M and S and he recurled—’
‘Recoiled, loved one.’
‘He recoiled as if he’d come across a viper among the olive oil bottles.’
‘As one would. So what do you propose to do?’
‘Lie low for a bit. With witnesses, preferably! Oh, Griff, I’ve spent so much time with Robin, who’s going through some sort of personal crisis, and with Morris, whose got a bit of a crisis of his own, I’m so behind in my work, and we’ve got Matford looming and—’
‘Morris? A crisis? Not that I want you to break confidences, loved one.’
‘The cuts and his job, for one thing. And there’s a problem with Penny.’
‘Ah.’ To my surprise he hugged me again.
I had a sudden panic. Would he smell Morris’s aftershave on my hair? And what would he say – or worse, not say – if he did?
‘We could skip Matford? It’s only one day.’
‘I’ve got a repair for Harvey I told him I’d return to him when we were down. Oh, Griff, that nice man Trev had a tracking device planted on his van – two, actually, same as Robin did – when he brought the vase down. Everything’s so bloody complicated – hiding in my workroom doing nothing but make things better seems such a lovely idea.’
‘One that can easily be put into operation, I trust. But your work needs a steady hand, dear child. With all that’s been afflicting you, are you sure you can manage it?’
I think my jaw jutted a bit. ‘I’ve never let anyone down yet.’
With Griff pottering around the cottage and taking over the Internet part of our business again, I settled down into a steady routine of work. Weekday and weekend blended into one when I shut the workroom door.
At least, that was the theory.
Griff set himself the task of dealing with Robin: he prepared a pile of meals for his freezer and, against my advice, set off in our van to deliver them. He also made me take time out to return the hire car. Talk about bravado. I just hoped the villain who was so keen on getting his hands on the box had seen the TV programme and knew I didn’t have it any more.
Steve dropped by again, but he needed to speak to Griff, not me, so I only had an edited version of the interviews, which, Griff told me, only consisted of news that there was nothing definite from the PM, but further tests were needed and would take time.
‘By the way, I said we’d pay for his funeral, as and when,’ he added sadly.
Morris, deep into the Monet plot, texted me from time to time and sent a couple of longer emails. It seemed he had half his house back, but that he and Penny lived in different parts of it (was it some mansion?). He spent as much time with Leda as he could, for which Penny seemed grateful. I don’t know whether this was meant to cheer me or not; I don’t know whether it did or not.
EIGHTEEN
No one seeing Matford would imagine what a haven of safety it seemed to me. I even greeted the smell like an old friend.
I’ve never been sure what the smell was. A lot of industrial-strength disinfectant for starters. That isn’t surprising, since Matford isn’t an upmarket girls’ school supplementing the fees to maintain a Victorian pile or a purpose-built hall like those in the NEC. Matford lurks in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Exeter and is really a cattle market. If you have any doubts, look behind the stalls and their displays: you’ll see large signs directing you to the Dairy Cattle Sale Ring and Sheep Pennage and giving you advice on how to keep flies and midges from your stock. There’s a firm of charted accountants, presumably specializing in farmers’ money, and, something Griff always points out, no matter how many times I’ve seen them, the premises of Townsend, Chartered Surveyors. I always manage a giggle for him when he offers to cross out the ‘s’ to make the surname like mine.
It wasn’t so much a giggle as an ironic snort that we both gave when we saw where our stand had been located this time. Right outside the offices of Devon County Council Trading Standards Service.
‘Just in case we try to palm off a dud and get caught out,’ Griff said.
As if.
Once we had set up, adjusting the lighting as carefully as if we were in the salon of a stately home, I set out for my usual prowl. Often dealers came across items that didn’t sit well with their usual stock and would give fellow dealers a discount on them. Griff had a partial Clarice Cliff tea set he really didn’t like and was well out of our core period, but even as I headed off, I could see a Cliff specialist heading his way. On a mostly treen stand, I was offered a shagreen spectacle case that was ideal for one of our regulars back in Kent. What I really hoped was that I would be summoned to something by my divvy instinct, as I often was – though preferably nothing as controversial as the snuffbox.
Not a single inviting vibe. I was just about to drift back when I saw a familiar face. What was Titus Oates doing so far from home? There was no point in making a beeline for him: that wasn’t how you approached Titus. But he caught my eye and gave the tiniest of nods.
I was just passing the Prime Cattle sign when he drifted over to me.
‘A lot of murky stuff going on,’ he said. ‘Griff OK now?’
‘Over there. Shame about X.’
His face tightened, no doubt about it. And Titus never, ever allowed himself to show emotion. ‘Told you to watch your back, didn’t I?’ He added, ‘Never drank himself to death before, did he?’
I stared. So he thought the death was suspicious – I think.
Another tiny nod. ‘Your old man’s very busy. Wouldn’t do to drop by without due warning. Specially with that cop of yours in tow.’
‘I texted Pa the other day. He said it wasn’t a good time. And I’ve been busy since. Well, this for one thing.’ Why did I always end up talking like him?
‘Pa? Hmm. Might welcome your thoughts on something. Not now.’ He was gone.
What an honour! The great Titus wanting my advice! It wasn’t usually like that. What on earth was he puzzled by? I did another turn of the area, in the opposite direction from the one he’d taken, but still had no vibes. Not good ones, at least.
‘Are you well, my love?’ Griff greeted me, still stowing cash in his wallet.
‘Just the smell making me queasy, probably.’
‘It’s enough to turn one vegetarian, isn’t it? Ah! Here comes Joe Public. And in good numbers too.’
When I saw it, I knew what Titus had wanted me to check. A snuffbox. Not just any snuffbox – I knew next to nothing about the things in general, after all. Another copy of the precious original. I didn’t even reach out to touch it. I knew the stallholder by sight; I knew nothing bad of him. But in the middle of an interesting – and dead expensive, given the fair’s location – collection of silver and pewter was this fake.
Titus caught my eye across the hall. This time I shook my head. He turned away. Trying to keep my face as expressionless as Titus’, I headed back to our stall. What should I do? Griff was flirting with what sounded like an old flame, a man who looked so seedy and second-hand that I could only presume Griff felt he needed to keep in practice. I did the obvious thing. I took the money for a pretty pair of Swansea pearlware plates from a waiting and talkative customer and, mobile – the old one – in hand, went outside.
‘Morris – I’ve found another one.’
‘Shit. What sort of price?’ He whistled when I told him. ‘Going on the assumption it’s kosher, then?’
‘Not high enough for the real deal, surely? But too high even for what Griff sometimes calls an homage. Are you still there?’
‘Just thinking. I’m due for a conference call with Interpol in three minutes. So I can’t help.’
‘Bit of a step from London to Exeter anyway.’
‘Not necessarily. It depends who’s down there.’ He gave a lovely rude laugh. Then he was quiet. ‘Sorry, I’m still thinking. And I’m not sure that you’re the one to do this, because of your reputation as a divvie. I need someone to go and buy it. And pay full whack. And get every piece of documentation going. Provenance on the receipt, that sort of thing. But not you. I wonder if I know someone in Devon CID well enough . . . Shit, I’ll have to call you back on this. Maybe an hour – maybe two . . .’
‘I think I’ve solved the problem,’ I said. ‘Someone’s turned up, and he’s just the guy to help.’ Sadly, I cut the call.
Two someones, actually. Harvey, who got a formal air kiss, and Trev, who got a proper hug. ‘No, don’t go in yet,’ I said. ‘This is what one of you has got to do . . .’
Harvey’s face grew more serious by the second. ‘And if I won’t?’
‘The vase gets it,’ I said.
‘Not the Harry Davies!’ He sounded genuinely shocked, as if he believed me.
I played along. ‘The Harry Davies I’ve spent fifteen hours repairing and regilding. That one.’
Knackered and feeling dirty, although we probably weren’t, since our caravan had all mod cons, we had to put on our best bibs and tuckers, whatever they were, to dine out with Harvey and, most disconcertingly, his wife, whom I’d never met. I’d have preferred Trev’s company, particularly in view of what he’d said about her.
We met near the restaurant he’d suggested, one specializing in seafood down in the Quayside area. As you’d expect on a Saturday evening, the whole scene was buzzing; I was almost disappointed when he led us to a small, quiet place, with only a dozen or so well-spaced tables. I had to admit, however, it was better for Griff’s hearing. Even though I’d persuaded him to admit there was a problem and he now sported a pair of hearing aids no one dared notice or mention, he still found loud trattorias trying. And the carpets and table linen were definitely his sort of thing. And, presumably, Harvey’s.
