They talked until late in the evening, resuming the conversation the next morning after Pollard had made a half-hearted attempt at dealing with his backlog. Their deliberations were cut short by the unexpected arrival of Professor Chilmark at midday, explaining that he had managed to transfer to another airline with an earlier flight. He gave the impression of decorous elation as he put a small travelling case on Pollard’s desk and began to open it.
‘Wonderful what a friend at court can do for you,’ he remarked, taking out the Gilmore painting and propping it up with some books. He eyed it critically. ‘Not a bad effort, is it? The old josser had a bit of talent. But the thing wouldn’t fool anyone with even minimal specialised talent for more than a couple of minutes. The canvas is out of period to start with, and you’d get far more stretching in a genuine early-eighteenth-century painting... You’ve got a lab and some chaps lined up for proper testing, I expect?’
Pollard had, and after lunch the technicians took over. His presence was not required or even particularly welcomed, but he wandered into the laboratory during the afternoon and watched the proceedings for a time. He felt envious of the investigations’ strictly limited field of enquiry and the unchallengeable character of their results. No unpredictable human factors here to reckon with.
The outcome of the tests, a fully attested if foregone conclusion, was available in time for a meeting with the Assistant Commissioner late in the evening. Professor Chilmark was invited to attend, and his account of his dealings with the cathedral authorities at Portrova, backed by the support of his highly-placed friend in the Ministry of Fine Arts, was extremely diverting. In addition to bringing back the substituted painting, he had also been able to get police confirmation of stays in North Italian hotels by Malcolm Gilmore and Hugo Rossiter over the critical period.
‘You’d better join the CID,’ the Assistant Commissioner remarked. ‘You seem to have a natural grasp of investigation. Will the Portrova people shut up as they’re getting the Lecci back?’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Professor Chilmark assured him. ‘With art thefts from churches running at their present level, they’re counting themselves lucky.’
‘Unfortunately,’ the Assistant Commissioner said, turning to Pollard, ‘our job’s clearing up the homicide, not the art theft, and the available evidence is far less conclusive. What do you propose to do now, Pollard?’
‘Stick to the original theme with your permission, sir.’
‘Don’t be so bloody cryptic. What do you mean?’
‘A confrontation in the form of a further substitution, sir. Something along these lines...’
The only development of interest over the weekend was a call from David Harrow. He reported that during his absence at the committee meeting in London on Friday, a man had rung Fairlynch Manor saying that he was speaking for Gilmore Constructions, and asking if the missing set of plans and estimates for the tea room had been found. Kit Peck had taken the call and replied that he did not know, but would pass on the message. There had been no further call.
‘I don’t see what Gilmore’s getting at,’ Toye said. ‘Why’s he het up about it?’
‘I think he’s quite unnecessarily jittery about that folder on two counts,’ Pollard said thoughtfully. ‘When Peck saw him off on the top terrace he — Peck — would have been holding the folder by our reckoning. He was well-known to be a careful bloke who’d put things away in their right place, particularly important papers connected with his job. What Gilmore thinks happened, I don’t know. Then we questioned him pretty closely about dropping Peck after the party. He was quite explicit, saying they talked for a couple of minutes about the work his firm was doing, and then Peck got out and waved him off when he’d turned his car. Any suggestion that Peck went into the house and upstairs out of the way is the last thing he’d want us to cotton on to under the circumstances.’
‘You’ve got something there,’ Toye said meditatively.
By common consent they took Sunday off, Pollard taking Jane and the twins for another strenuous but satisfactory day on his brother’s farm. Once again, after a snack supper and a look through the Sunday papers, he found himself getting up to switch on the television set for the late news. He had an odd sense of history repeating itself, and felt absurdly relieved that the usual reports of violence were all international in character.
Monday moved forward inexorably. He drove down to Wellchester with Toye in time for a lengthy conference with Superintendent Maynard and Inspector Rendell. Later he visited a local magistrate, returning with a warrant for the arrest of Hugo Rossiter on a charge of murdering Francis Peck, and another for the arrest of Malcolm Gilmore as an accessory to the crime. He had also obtained a search warrant for Mill Cottage and its outbuildings.
‘Rossiter will plead guilty to manslaughter and get the murder charge dropped, wouldn’t you expect?’ Toye asked.
‘Pretty well a certainty, I should think. He obviously never meant to kill Peck... What price we can’t shock an admission out of either Rossiter or Gilmore tomorrow?’
Toye was reassuring. At the hotel they met Professor Chilmark who had just arrived. Pollard found himself welcoming the prospect of a third party’ company for the rest of the evening. Time passed, more swiftly and easily then he had anticipated. He woke on the following morning confident of holding a potentially winning hand. Everything would depend on how it was played.
Discreet observation had been kept on Hugo Rossiter and Malcolm Gilmore throughout the weekend. The latter had paid a lengthy visit to Mill Cottage on Sunday, but neither had shown any sign of leaving home. Except when away Hugo Rossiter was accustomed to spend Tuesdays at his art shop in Wellchester, and the invaluable Sergeant Bland had ascertained in conversation with his girlfriend that Malcolm Gilmore had no outside engagements on this Tuesday morning. By previous arrangement Toye called each of the two suspects soon after nine o’clock, Pollard meanwhile following the conversation on an extension. They were told that it had been decided that the five stolen pictures could now be returned to their owners. Superintendent Pollard would be at the police station to hand them over at ten-thirty. Malcolm Gilmore was asked to collect his ‘Flight into Egypt’ and his wife’s ‘Inspiration’, and raised no difficulty, even sounding relieved, Pollard thought. Hugo Rossiter was told that his presence was necessary as an organiser of ‘Pictures for Pleasure’. His sarcastic comments on red tape were met by Toye’s courteous and unruffled reference to necessary formalities.
‘Now they’ll ring each other,’ Pollard said as he put down the receiver. ‘I hope to God Maynard’s chaps have got them trailed all right, that’s all.’ He went off for a final check of his preparations.
After what seemed an interminable wait it was ten twenty-five. Watching from a window with Toye, Pollard saw Malcolm Gilmore drive into the car park with Hugo Rossiter in the passenger seat. The two men sat in conversation for a couple of minutes before getting out.
‘Right, then,’ he said tersely. ‘Over the top.’
Toye went towards the main entrance of the police station, and engaged in conversation with the duty sergeant. Pollard slipped into a room next to the one they were using as an office. He listened to Gilmore and Rossiter being escorted there by Toye.
‘If you’d kindly step in here, gentlemen,’ Toye was saying, impeccably correct, ‘I’ll fetch Mr Gilmore’s two pictures. Superintendent Pollard will be here in a few moments with the necessary forms for signature.’
Malcolm Gilmore responded with a remarkably raw comment about waste of time. Toye emerged, raising his eyebrows as he took the paintings from Pollard, and returned to the next room to hand them over. He came out again, and rejoined Pollard outside the door which he had left just ajar. They listened tensely.
There was a brief exchange of comments followed by an explosive exclamation from Hugo Rossiter.
‘Christ! They’ve rumbled it!’
‘What the hell do you mean?’ Malcolm Gilmore’s voice cracked in s
taccato incredulity.
‘It’s not the Lecci, I tell you. It must be yours.’
‘You know bloody well it can’t possibly be mine. If it’s not the Lecci, it’s yours, that’s what it is! So that’s been your dirty game — substituting your copy for the Lecci. I see it all now, why you were so keen all along, you bastard. You’re not getting away with it, though. Either you hand over the Lecci when we’re out of here or I’ll turn Queen’s Evidence. At least I’m not a bloody murderer...’
A crash and a shout brought Pollard and Toye into the room which suddenly filled with police. Blood was running down Malcolm Gilmore’s face, and a painting in a broken frame lay on the floor. Toye and a constable quietly stationed themselves behind Hugo Rossiter.
‘Why don’t you arrest him?’ Malcolm Gilmore snarled. ‘Can’t you see he’s assaulted me?’ He tried to staunch the flow of blood with his handkerchief.
In complete silence Pollard picked up the ‘Flight into Egypt’.
‘Ask Professor Chilmark to come in, please,’ he said to a constable at the door.
He watched Hugo Rossiter carry out a swift mental calculation, and Malcolm Gilmore became suddenly immobilised, blood-stained handkerchief in hand.
‘Good morning, Professor,’ he said calmly as the small but impressive figure walked into the room. ‘Would you be kind enough to look at this painting and tell me if you recognise it?’
Professor Chilmark took the ‘Flight into Egypt’ from him and scrutinised it carefully.
‘I am prepared to state on oath,’ he replied, ‘that this is a painting which I brought back to England last Friday with the permission of the cathedral authorities of Portrova in North Italy. It is a late-nineteenth-century copy of an original work by the Venetian artist Lecci painted in the early-eighteenth century, for which it had been substituted.’
‘We know the actual date of the substitution,’ Pollard said almost conversationally. ‘It was June the seventeenth 1977, and was accompanied by an assault on an English woman tourist who happened to be in the cathedral at the time. Yes, officer?’
A Wellchester sergeant handed him an oil painting identical in size with the one held by Professor Chilmark.
‘Acting on your instructions, sir, and with a warrant, we searched the studio of Mr Hugo Rossiter at Mill Cottage, Spireford, and found this picture hidden in a cupboard.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ Pollard said. ‘We now have a further link in this complicated chain of events. This second copy of Lecci’s “Flight into Egypt” was prepared to be —’
‘I know nothing whatever of this nonsensical business,’ Malcolm Gilmore burst out. ‘I don’t possess the technical skill to carry out an art forgery. If there was a substitution...’
‘There was a witness to the substitution,’ Pollard replied. ‘Ask Mrs Julian Strode to come in, please.’
Pale but composed, Julian Strode walked in. She wore a sleeveless silk frock, and a cardigan was draped over her shoulders. She carried a scarf and a handbag. Malcolm Gilmore made an involuntary backward movement.
‘Mrs Strode,’ Pollard said, ‘when you were attacked and tied up in Portrova cathedral in June 1977, was one man involved, or two?’
‘Two,’ she replied unhesitatingly.
‘That won’t stand up in court,’ Malcolm Gilmore shouted. ‘She couldn’t possibly have seen with her cardigan over her head!’
There was an electrified silence, broken by a short laugh from Hugo Rossiter.
‘Kaput!’ he remarked sardonically, and saluted Pollard.
*****
Want to discover more with Pollard & Toye? Download NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CASE, Book Twelve in the Pollard & Toye series.
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ALSO IN THE POLLARD & TOYE INVESTIGATIONS SERIES
DEATH OF AN OLD GIRL
THE AFFACOMBE AFFAIR
ALIBI FOR A CORPSE
DEATH ON DOOMSDAY
CYANIDE WITH COMPLIMENTS
NO VACATION FROM MURDER
BURIED IN THE PAST
STEP IN THE DARK
UNHAPPY RETURNS
SUDDENLY WHILE GARDENING
NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CASE
TROUBLED WATERS
THE WHEEL TURNS
LIGHT THROUGH GLASS
WHO GOES HOME?
THE GLADE MANOR MURDERS
Published by Sapere Books.
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Copyright © Elizabeth Lemarchand, 1980
The Estate of Elizabeth Lemarchand has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.
eBook ISBN: 9781913028046
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