The Angel Downstairs, page 18
‘I will. What did this man do, the one before Christmas?’ prompted Hannah.
‘Him? Nothing. He saw me watching at the window and left.’
‘But he was definitely a stranger?’
‘I only saw him for a moment. I couldn’t tell you anything about him.’
She began to look hunted and Hannah let it drop. She drank some tea, replaced the cup and waited a couple of minutes before speaking again, trying to sound casual.
‘I thought I saw someone coming here last Thursday when I was leaving. I’d been visiting Gabriel if you remember? There was a man outside and he was behaving oddly too. Did you see anyone?’
Violette frowned. ‘No. Was that late?’
‘Maybe half ten, eleven o’clock.’
‘I was probably watching the television. I don’t sit and watch for people,’ she added defensively. ‘I just sometimes notice.’ Violette eyed her up. ‘Someone came to cause trouble, didn’t they? Mark said.’ She paused again then fixed Hannah with a defiant gaze. ‘But I don’t get involved in other people’s business. I don’t know anything about it.’
She stood up suddenly and was now murmuring to a bird that had landed in the olive tree.
Hannah finished her tea and left. If Violette had seen someone, she clearly wasn’t prepared to say.
*
Eric had slept little the night before. Long after Nathan and Hannah had gone to bed, he had stayed up, fretting over his finances, poring over the paperwork he held for them, trying to figure out how he could raise money for Gustave.
He’d tried to be sensible over the years. He knew what it was like to be poor, to live hand to mouth and, although when he’d first started to earn good money it had been tempting to spend it wildly, he had always made sure to keep a little back. As time went on, he had sought out financial advice and had bought his first property – ‘there’s always a good return on property’, his adviser had said – and, when more money was available, he had put money into shares and bonds too. But the financial crises of recent years had wiped a lot of money off his accounts and his income always fluctuated anyway. From what he could see, the sums didn’t look good.
As soon as Nathan and Hannah had gone out that morning, Eric had gone back up to the apartment and phoned his financial adviser to get more accurate and up-to-date information. The man he’d used for years, plodding but reliable, had retired and had been replaced by a young guy with a breezy, irritatingly cocky manner.
‘I need to raise some money quickly,’ Eric started by saying. ‘I need to know how much I can get access to.’
There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath.
‘It’s never good to take money out without notice, Monsieur Dechansay.’
‘I know that and I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important,’ he responded impatiently. ‘It’s not your advice I’m after here; I just need to know the figures.’
‘Well...’ There was a long pause while the man looked into it. This chap was heavily into computers. Eric had trusted the previous man more with his paper files and folders. ‘Let me see,’ the guy muttered, ‘some of your money can’t be released until the end of the investment term.’
‘Can’t we do anything about that?’ Eric said sharply.
‘I’m afraid not. And you’ll be paying a penalty to release a sizeable amount of the rest. It’s the price you pay for higher interest rates, Monsieur.’ After another pause he quoted a figure. ‘That would be about the best you could do at short notice,’ he said.
‘I don’t think that’ll be enough. Could I raise a mortgage on the house in Antibes?’
‘A mortgage? Monsieur Dechansay, that would be very expensive, given your age. And that’s assuming anyone would do it. Lenders have become very wary of late. I’d have to look into it but it would take a while to organise. Your financial situation would be scrutinised and there’d have to be a valuation on the property. These people don’t move quickly.’
‘I don’t have time to do all that.’
The call ended and Eric felt hedged in. Time was not on his side. Gustave, he knew only too well, was not a patient man.
*
Hannah had been back in the apartment half an hour when Nathan returned, carrying two bags crammed with food.
‘Do we really need all this?’ he demanded as he dumped the bags on the worktop in the kitchen.
‘With three of us to feed and you eating every meal like it might be your last? Yes, we do.’ She started to empty one of the bags, pulling out tomatoes, green salad and then a packet of chocolate chip cookies. ‘And I see you added to my list too.’
He shrugged, pulling bread, butter, ham and cheese out of the other bag. ‘Sometimes you need stuff to graze on. There are custard creams in there somewhere too. And crisps, three different flavours.’
‘Fine. Did you learn anything from the shopkeepers?’
‘Yes and no. The woman who runs the tabac said she’d seen two men hanging around over the last few days but never at the same time. They’d both been in to buy cigarettes.’
‘Taking it in turns then. Did she describe them?’
‘One in his thirties, she guessed; the other maybe a bit younger. One was broad-shouldered, heavy, with short stubby hair and a tattoo on the back of his hand. Exactly. The man who tried to grab you. The other was slighter and more quietly spoken. She hasn’t seen either of them in the last couple of days. They’re not from round here, she said.’
‘They aren’t here so much because they’ve got Natalie now. Did she get suspicious about why you were asking?’
‘I told her I was staying locally and someone had said there were a lot of pickpockets about. I wondered if she’d heard the same.’
‘You knew how to say pickpocket?’ said Hannah, incredulous.
‘Of course: voleur à la tire. I brought my old pocket dictionary with me.’ He pulled it out of his pocket and waved it at her before emptying the last of the shopping from his bag onto the counter. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Talking to Violette. She claims she didn’t see or hear anything on Friday night but I think she might have. Either way, she’s not saying. She’s either scared or doesn’t want to get involved. She did see someone in the courtyard before Christmas but said she couldn’t describe him. Mark often chats with her apparently. Florence less so but she’s got a boyfriend she often meets after work who apparently lights up her life.’ She paused. ‘And Florence only came to work here after that other girl was killed.’
‘So she might be a plant and the boyfriend might be one of the guys hanging around, you think? It’s possible. What do we know about her?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Mark might know something. I’ll try and speak to him later.’
‘Suppose he’s a plant?’
‘Mark?’ Nathan scoffed. ‘He’s a serious artist. I talked to him when we were clearing the studio. Anyway, he’s English.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ She shook her head and began putting the food away.
*
‘So I guess there’s been some development then?’ Mark looked at Nathan expectantly.
‘Development? I’m sorry, what do you mean?’
Florence had left early, apparently pleading a dentist’s appointment, and Eric was at his work table at the other end of the studio, working on his commission. Unsurprisingly he appeared to be struggling to concentrate and kept staring into mid-air.
‘I mean,’ said Mark, eyebrows raised, but dropping his voice, ‘that there’s something going on. You and Hannah are back here. I thought Hannah had left. I’m not a fool, Nathan. Something’s going on. Thieves don’t usually break into places like this. What’s here for them? And so much vandalism. I’m guessing Eric has some unhappy friends. He’s upset somebody. And now Hannah’s back and you’re here too. What’s it all about?’
Nathan grinned. ‘Nothing sinister. Work’s quiet so we decided to extend our holiday and Eric’s let us stay over.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Why? Would you expect Eric to upset someone?’
Mark pulled a face, glancing across at his employer. ‘No. He’s a stickler for his work but he’s not a bad sort. Pays on time. Expects you to work but he’s fair if you do. Good teacher too.’
‘And you’re doing a watercolour? Is that your preferred medium?’
‘Eric encouraged me. He said it’s a good way to get ideas down quickly, to work out the colour balance and areas that need detail before moving on and developing a bigger picture.’
‘I see.’ The sound of piano music drifted up to them through the windows from the courtyard. ‘I imagine that music might be distracting sometimes.’
Mark shrugged. ‘It doesn’t bother me, to be honest. You get used to it.’
‘Do you know Gabriel?’
‘Just to exchange the time of day with. Why?’
‘I just wondered. He seems to live a removed kind of life. I don’t think I’d like it.’
‘I suppose that’s musicians for you – they live in their own world. I’ve no idea what he gets up to. Sorry I need to concentrate here.’
Mark had been mixing colours in one of the reservoirs of a large compartmentalised ceramic palette. Now he loaded a brush with water and, using broad strokes, began to wet the stretched paper on his board, starting at the top and slowly covering the sky area of his drawing, carefully avoiding a couple of building shapes loosely sketched in on the horizon.
Nathan watched for a moment then wandered off to glance over Florence’s work-table. She had been preparing a canvas with gesso for Eric and it had been left to dry. There was little that seemed personal to her lying around on the table, nothing that offered any insight into the woman. There was a sketch pad – an essential accoutrement for any artist – but the drawings in it were little more than doodles. There appeared to be no particular planning or development of her ideas in it. It looked completely haphazard, like something a bored schoolchild might do in the margins of an exercise book.
He returned to Mark who had finished the wash and was now perched on his stool, studying the preparatory drawing he’d made, waiting for it to soak in.
‘Doesn’t Florence do much art work of her own?’ Nathan enquired.
Mark shook his head. ‘Not really. You see Eric needs assistants to do the more mundane jobs and leave him free to paint. But assistants – that is most studio assistants – have aspirations of their own. They work for a basic wage but also get taught by the accomplished artist. I guess you know this since you’re an art restorer? Anyway, I’ve been here longer and I’m more advanced. I’ve learnt a lot. Florence is the newcomer. By the time I’m ready to move on, maybe start my own studio, she’ll take over as senior assistant and he’ll take on someone new. Except...’ He hesitated. ‘...well, I’m not sure Florence is in it for the long haul.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just an impression. She’s not that committed. I’m not sure why she’s here. She spends more of her time mooning over some chap she’s keen on.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘I don’t know. She doesn’t like to talk about him. Her father wouldn’t approve, she says.’ Mark leaned down to look at the damp paper from the side to see if the water still looked glossy on the surface or if it had sunk in. ‘Nearly.’ He straightened up. ‘You sound suspicious. Do you think her boyfriend might be involved in some way with this vandalism and stuff?’
‘I’ve no idea. What do you think?’
‘It had crossed my mind. He sounds a bit of a jerk and never has any money. Sorry, I think I need to crack on and get the colour on.’
He dipped his brush in the mixed colours, a soft but vibrant blue, and began to wash it on the damp paper starting at the top. It sank in and feathered pleasingly and Nathan left him to it.
He glanced at Florence’s table again as he headed for the stairs. Could small, defensive Florence really be caught up with a brutish gang of kidnappers? Perhaps if she was completely smitten with one of them. Maybe they should try following her when she met this boyfriend of hers? But it would be hard to do without being seen and that could be disastrous.
Frankly, Nathan found the scenario unlikely. If someone was in with the kidnappers, it was more likely to be Gabriel – he was sly and smooth and calculating. It would be good to know more about that man.
Chapter 14
How long was Eric going to have to wait for Gustave to ‘be in touch’ again? Time was dragging painfully. He dreaded the next call but badly wanted to get it over with too, just so he could plan, or negotiate, do something. Anything.
Hannah and Nathan cooked a meal for them all on the Tuesday evening – a surprisingly good beef casserole with roast potatoes and green beans – and Eric opened a bottle of wine and he and Nathan discussed varnishes at length, their clarity and their longevity, as if it were the only thing that preoccupied them. In fact they all talked about anything and everything except the kidnapping. When the first bottle of wine was finished, Eric opened a second; he needed it.
He'd intended to discuss the situation with them, to explain how tricky his finances were and how difficult it would be to pay a big ransom, but he struggled to articulate it. He had come up with a plan, an outrageous idea really, and he didn’t think it would work and was terrified of what that might mean.
In his head, he kept going back in time to a dark, hungry night and a nerve-stretching creep towards the silhouette of a large, elegant house. It was an image which he’d carried with him for decades, but he’d always managed to put it away from him, tidily boxed and locked away in a folder labelled Don’t go there. Now the image had broken out and seemed to lurk incessantly at the corners of his mind. Even the wine wasn’t helping and all three of them were like cats walking on hot coals. When the phone rang just before eleven, Hannah physically jumped.
Eric had kept the handset beside him all evening. He grabbed it but his mouth was suddenly like sandpaper and he ran a dry tongue ineffectually over his lips before answering.
‘Allô, oui?’
‘So Eric, after...’
‘I haven’t got it.’
‘You don’t know what I want yet.’
Eric launched himself to his feet and began to pace about. ‘It doesn’t matter. It would take me weeks to get together any significant money.’ His voice rose. ‘Months maybe, do you hear? You can’t keep my daughter shut up for that length of time.’
‘I can do what I want, Eric. I’m the one calling the shots, remember. And I want eight hundred thousand francs now and it’ll keep going up if you keep stalling.’
Eric stopped pacing abruptly. ‘I want to speak to Natalie. How do I know you’ve got her? Let me speak to her.’
He heard the phone being put down and odd noises from further away. It was a couple of minutes later when the phone was picked up again.
‘Papa? Is that you?’
‘Natalie chérie. Are you all right? Have they hurt you?’
‘No, I’m OK. It’s horrible here though Papa. They...’
‘Right,’ Gustave said abruptly into the receiver. ‘Now you know we have her and she’s fine. So it’s time to pay up. I want eight hundred thousand in small denominations.’
‘Look, I told you that I didn’t take the stuff and it’s true. It’s true, Gustave. It’s still there for all I know. In fact it’s bound to be. I hid it well, then ran. When the news broke about the break-in, nothing was said about finding the loot, just that a load of treasures had been stolen. But I can tell you where I hid it and you can get it and sell it. You’ll make far more money than you can get from me, especially selling at today’s prices. I’ve looked at every way I can to raise money and I just can’t do it. It’s the truth. But I’ll tell you where the stuff is. It’s so long ago, everyone will have forgotten about it now so it’d be easy to sell.’
‘It’d have to be. Because if we get caught, you’re going down too Eric. And you know what for.’
Eric didn’t reply. Gustave had gone quiet and all he could hear were a couple of muffled voices talking hurriedly in the background. He glanced at his two companions. Hannah was translating what she’d heard him say to Nathan.
Suddenly Gustave was talking in his ear again.
‘There’s no way we’re going to follow some wild goose chase, Eric. You’re probably leading us into a trap. I can’t believe the stuff will still be there after all this time, but hey, if that really is what you did with it, I’m prepared to consider it. But you can go and find it yourself and when you’ve got it, we’ll arrange a drop. You go and collect it, then we’ll have something to talk about.’
‘But that’ll take time. It’s been so long. Can’t you release Natalie? I’ll find it, I promise Gustave, and you can have it all.’
‘Natalie stays with me. I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you, Eric, and you’ve got nothing to bargain with. I’ll give you till Friday. You either get the money together or you get the loot. And when you think of double-crossing me or going to the police, just remember the body of that girl in the street.’
‘Don’t hurt Natalie. Please. If you touch her I’ll...’
He heard the phone go dead and stood, staring into space.
‘What?’ he heard Hannah say. ‘What did you hide, Papa?’
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t a good time to explain. It’s nothing. I... Look, it’s getting late and I need time to think. I’m going to bed. I’ll sleep on it. I think you should get some rest too.’
‘What?’ Hannah exploded. ‘You can’t just leave it at that.’
But he put the phone back on its base unit, ignoring her growing indignation and walked away and down the stairs to his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.
