Trentbridge Tales Box Set

by Lee Wood

  Chapter Forty

  Eden called James to update him. “Hi, James. DS Archer decided she would like to do some background checks off her own bat and came up with something regarding one of the antique dealers that might be relevant. DCI is keeping a close eye on me so I’ll have to concentrate on some of the other cases that are clogging up my in-tray. I’ll send the info that Tracy came up with and leave it with you.”

  “Thanks Eden. I’m just about to go and visit the lady who Peter Winston-Moore bought the Picasso from. I thought it might be a good idea to work from the beginning and re-trace everything step by step. Winston-Moore obviously upset a lot of people over the years. So I would like to try and get some more background on the way he operated.”

  “Okay James. I can’t imagine she’s got anything relevant but I’ll leave you to it. Let me know what she has to say.”

  James knew the area well. He had lived just a couple of streets away with his family before they were killed in the hit and run. Visiting the area brought back mixed emotions. He found a parking space right outside of number sixty-four and walked up the path noting the poor condition of the outside of the property.

  He tapped on the glass panel of the door as he’d rung the bell and it didn’t appear to be working.

  “Hello, Mrs Brown. I'm James Sheldon. I phoned you earlier about having a brief chat.”

  “Yes, dear. Please come in.”

  As he followed June Brown, she led him to the kitchen. “I’d normally take you through to the lounge but I'm in a bit of a mess at the moment, dear. We had a small get together with friends last night and I haven’t had a chance to clear it up yet. It's probably best we sit in here. Can I get you a nice cup of tea or coffee?”

  “A cup of tea would go down a treat. Thank you.”

  He watched as June put the kettle on and then turned to the cupboard next to the sink and pulled out a mug. James noticed she also reached into the next cupboard across and took out a tea bag. Her fingers seemed stiff and difficult to move. He guessed Mrs Brown suffered from some form of arthritis.

  The kettle boiled and she poured the water into the mug. The table already had a carton of milk and a cup with small sachets of sugar and sweeteners. “Please help yourself to milk and sugar, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Brown.”

  “Oh please, call me June.”

  “Okay, June. As I mentioned on the telephone I just want to ask you about the man who purchased the paintings from you. I know it was some time ago but anything you can remember might help us.”

  “Yes, I remember. It wasn't a good time. We needed money for a family emergency so I sold just about everything I had: my late husband’s record collection, his tools, the paintings. We even sold the car just to raise some money. I wasn't sure where to sell the paintings then I got a leaflet through the door saying this London man would pay the best prices. Knowing how expensive that place is I knew he would give a better price than anyone local so I called him up and he came round. He was a nice man. Very, what's the word, refined? That's it, refined. He stayed and we chatted and he paid me in cash there and then. My late husband had said one of the paintings was valuable and the man gave me £4,000 for it. He said the other paintings were not as collectable and gave me £120 for them. After that I never saw him again. Is there a problem, dear?”

  “No, Mrs Brown. I’m just trying to find the history of the painting.”

  “I couldn't really say, dear. Larry, that’s my late husband, was given the painting before we got married. Even before we started courting. He mentioned it was when he went to the South of France with some of his friends. He saved a boy from drowning and his father gave Larry the painting as a thank you. He even wrote a message on the back but it was all in French. Not sure what it said. Nothing important I expect just ‘thank you’.

  “Larry always said we should keep it for a family emergency. He seemed to think it was valuable but then he died in a car accident you see. Without him, my daughter and I struggled to get by. Then she got married and moved out and had Kim. But Dee and her husband David split up. Then of course Kim got ill. We needed to find money for her treatment but we couldn't raise enough so instead we treated her to a holiday at Euro Disney. She loved it. You should have seen her little face, bless her. It was a picture. Then she got very ill and that was that.”

  “Can I ask you what happened? If it's too painful just say so.”

  “No, no, dear. My granddaughter had a rare illness. She was only ten. There was nothing we could do. We couldn't afford the treatment that might have given her a chance. Then she passed away last year. A day I'll never forget. The twenty-seventh of March. She was such a little angel. My daughter was in pieces, well, we both were. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm getting emotional on you.” June took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “Still, you can't dwell on the past can you, dear. What's done is done. I've still got my daughter and we get by. It’s difficult but we survive. I told the man who bought the paintings all about her illness and the problems. He listened and was very nice but of course he couldn't do anything. Then he said he was originally going to offer £3,500 for the painting but after I told him what was going on, he said he would increase it to £4,000. What a decent man. I wish there were more people like him. Would you like another tea, dear?”

  “No thank you, June. In fact, I must make a move. I've got another appointment and chatting to you has been so lovely I might be a little late. But it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

  “Yes, dear, and it was lovely to meet you. You're welcome to call again but I'm really not sure if I've been any help. Next time you might meet my daughter.”

  “That would be nice. Perhaps next time. Thank you for the tea, June.”

  As he walked towards the front door, James peeked into the front room. Mrs Brown was right. It looked a mess. Like the aftermath of a party. Mrs Brown was old and he could see she moved rather slowly.

  James gave her a kiss on the cheek as he left her standing at the front door waving as he walked back to his car.

  Such a nice young man, Mrs Brown thought as she wandered back into the kitchen.

  As James walked to his car he checked his phone and saw a message with an attachment.

  After downloading and reading what it said he sent Eden a text message.

  “Hi, Eden, I just got the info Tracy sent. Considering the way Winston-Moore was killed I think it calls for another visit to a certain antiques dealer. After that there's one final thing I want to check out and then I think I may have some news for you.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  James dialled a number on his mobile. “Hello. It’s James Sheldon. I came and saw you the other day. Some new information has come to light and I wondered if you would be kind enough to spare me a few minutes. I’ll be in London in around three hours. Would it be possible to meet? I wouldn’t ask but it is extremely important. Thank you. Bye.”

  Three hours later, James found a parking space right in front of the antiques shop at number seven. As he walked through the front door the antique dealer he had come to see walked over.

  “Nice motor. I thought you told me you were a former police officer. Must be one hell of a pension.”

  At that point, the two men shook hands.

  “Hello, Mr Longhurst. Actually after I left the police I was homeless for a while but then I won a bit of cash on the Lotto. On my old salary I wouldn’t even have been able to afford to fill the fuel tank.”

  Robin Longhurst laughed. “You would need to be a Lotto winner to afford one of those.

  “Yes, indeed. And thanks again for seeing me at short notice. Out of courtesy I wanted to have a word with you to go over something that has come to light, before the police get involved.”

  Robin nodded. “I’ll certainly help you if I can.”

  “The police have been looking into Mr Winston-Moore’s financial affairs and on his bank statements there are regular monthly payments you made to
him every month. Now I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation but I do still have to investigate all lines of inquiry. So I wonder if you can tell me what these payments were for.”

  “As I’ve already told the police, I often purchased stock from him. So they must be for the items I bought.”

  ”If you were buying stock from Mr Winston-Moore as you say, can you explain why the amounts you paid were exactly the same every month?”

  “Some of them I couldn’t afford to pay him in full so he said I could pay him monthly. A sort of loan re-payment scheme.”

  “Mr Longhurst, I would remind you this is a murder enquiry. So far the police aren’t looking into this aspect any deeper and if we can work this out between the two of us and nothing illegal has occurred then I’ll do my best to keep it that way. But if I feel you are leading me on then I do have to report it to the police and I’m sure you don’t want them turning up at your shop, do you? We both know Mr Winston-Moore wasn’t the sort of person to help anyone out with offering monthly payments and loans. Now. Shall we start again? Why were you paying Mr Winston-Moore every month?”

  “Alright. If you want the truth he was a nasty piece of work and he was blackmailing me. It started three years ago, before he found the Picasso and made millions I thought it would stop after that but it didn’t. I pleaded with him and said he didn’t need the money anymore. But he just laughed and said it would pay for the petrol for his Bentley. But I didn’t have anything to do with his murder. You must believe me.”

  “What was he blackmailing you about?”

  “I’d been attending an evening auction near Chiswick and witnessed someone being stabbed. So I went to help. Winston-Moore was at the auction and left at the same time as me. He saw what happened but just stood back and didn’t try to help or anything. The knife was lying next to the guy as I tried to stop the bleeding. I inadvertently picked it up not thinking my fingerprints would then be on it. Peter took it off me, I assumed to give to the police, but he didn’t. He said he would tell the police I’d had an argument with the guy and stabbed him. The man died in hospital. He said the knife had the victim’s blood and my fingerprints on it and if I didn’t pay him he would send it to the police.

  “So I paid him every month. I figured what if I was found guilty. And besides, it was cheaper than a trial and the cost of defending myself. That’s what he was like. So I’m not sorry he’s dead but I didn’t kill him. Look. I know what it’s like to be accused of something you haven’t done so if it wasn’t Norman who killed him then I hope you find whoever it was. But I swear I had nothing to do with the stabbing.”

  James sat back and folded his arms. “I tell you what I’ll do, Mr Longhurst. I’ll speak to one of the detectives involved in the case and explain the situation to them and see what they have to say. I can assure you none of my former colleagues want to involve anyone who is innocent. So if you are telling the truth you have nothing to fear. You’ve given me the date and location of the incident at the auction. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have some news.”

  James left Robin’s shop. He could see the man was clearly upset but he needed to check out the story.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  When he won the £168 million on Lotto the one indulgence James had allowed himself was to buy a brand new Ferrari 488GTB. The trip down to London had given him a chance to get the car out of the garage. It was the first time he had been out in it for more than three months.

  He was on the last stretch of motorway about ten miles from home when his mobile rang. He used the hands-free to answer.

  “Hi, James. It’s Eden. You’re not going to believe this but I just received a call from Kevin O’Connor. He wants to talk about what he calls ‘the hotel matter’. When I explained about your involvement he said he remembered you and he wants to meet and have a chat. What do you think? Would you meet him?”

  “Don’t see why not. If he’s got something to say, it should be worth listening. Do you want to arrange it and get back to me? I should be back in Trentbridge in around ten minutes.

  While you’re on the phone I need you to check something out for me. It regards the antique dealer Robin Longhurst.”

  He gave Eden the date and location and the details he had been given by Robin.

  “I know a detective sergeant at Chiswick. I’ll have a word with him and check out the details and get back to you later.”

  He had been home for just over an hour and the buzzer on the microwave indicated his coq au vin for one was ready when his mobile rang.

  “Hi, Eden.”

  “Hi, James. I’ve had a productive time. The stabbing Robin Longhurst mentioned. He’s out of the frame on that one. They caught the perp. He’s been inside for the past two years serving a life sentence. They found CCTV.

  From what he told me, it shows the stabbing and the killer running off. It also shows Longhurst trying to help the victim as he described. From what they told me, on the quiet it looks like it was a cock-up on their part. Apparently, when they found the guy responsibly someone tried to get in touch with Mr Longhurst to let him know but it appears he was on holiday at the time and then nobody got back to him.

  So it seems he was never informed he was no longer a suspect in the case. He said from what he recalls they got in touch with Winston-Moore who said he would tell his friend about it. I assume he was referring to Robin Longhurst. I’ve just spoken with Mr Longhurst and told him. He said Winston-Moore had never passed on the message but then why would he if he was getting paid every month.

  Also, I’ve spoken to Kevin O’Connor. If you’re free he’ll meet you in the bar of the Albion. He said he would be there until ten tonight if you can make it.”

  “Not a problem. I’m just about to eat and then I’d planned to do some paperwork but that can wait. Tell him I’ll be there in an hour or so. No indication of what he wants to talk about?”

  “You know him. I don’t think you’d get him to talk unless he really wanted to.”

  “I’ll let you know what he has to say.”

  An hour and a half later James walked into the Albion hotel and through to the bar. It looked quieter than the last few days. All the curiosity seekers interested in the murder had disappeared. He noticed Kevin O’Connor.

  “Hello, Kevin. Long-time no see. How’s Sadie?”

  “Hello, Mr Sheldon. She’s good. You certainly look better than the last time I saw you. You were sitting in a doorway on Sidney Street begging for loose change. Then I heard your luck changed.”

  “I wouldn’t call it luck. I’d gladly return every penny for a few days of having my family back.”

  “You know me, Mr Sheldon. Not much upsets me but if anyone ever caused harm to my family I’d hunt them down to the ends of the earth. So I can understand where you’re coming from. Family is everything.”

  After Kevin came back with the drinks, the two men walked over to the table in the corner that had just been vacated by three ladies who looked like they were heading off on a stag night.

  “I know you’re not the filth anymore and I have respect for Mr Gold. He’s firm but fair. So I want to tell the pair of you something. You can believe me or not but it’s the god’s honest truth.”

  “I’m listening, Kevin.”

  “I have your word this is all off the record?”

  “Yes, Kevin. I’m not wired or recording this and I’m no longer a police officer so anything you say is off the record.”

  “Okay. I’ll admit I was in the Greek restaurant and overheard the art dealer boasting about the painting he conned out of the old dear and I’ll admit I thought about, shall we say, relieving him of it. But on the night I’d planned to nab it something went wrong and the master key a certain member of staff was supposed to get for me was missing from the reception desk drawer when they went there. So my plans were scuppered at the last minute. I thought about going back on the Friday night but someone else got to him first.”

  “Someone
working here owe you a favour?”

  “Let’s just say one of the kitchen staff likes a flutter and got in over their head.”

  “Can I ask why you’re offering this information? After all, it’s no secret we’re hardly on the same side.”

  “I’ve dealt with a lot of coppers over the years. Most are bastards and some are as crooked as me. But Mr Gold has always been fair and word is he’s as straight as an arrow. A man of his word. I respect that and besides, I might need a favour one day and if I help him out now he’ll remember it.”

  “One thing. Why are you involved in this? As you say, you’re no longer a copper.”

  “Because I own this hotel.”

  O’Connor let out a long whistle. “You’re kidding me. You own this entire hotel? It’s worth millions. If you won so much why didn’t you just retire and buy an island or something. Why would you spend so much on a hotel?”

  When I was homeless I stayed round the back. A few of the staff looked after me. When I won the Lotto I heard they were selling the place to convert into apartments so I bought the place to keep everyone in a job. But it makes money and I don’t have to get involved in the day to day running.”

  “Crikey. I thought you had won a few hundred grand. How much did you win then?

  “I won £168 million.”

  “Fucking hell. If I had won that much I might even have been tempted to go straight.”

  “No disrespect, Kevin, but I very much doubt that. You enjoy the game of cat and mouse too much.”

  “Ha ha. You might be right James.”

  “Anyway, Kevin. Thank you for the information. I’ll let Eden know how helpful you’ve been but I can’t promise he will acknowledge he owes you a favour for the future. It’s my round. What would you like to drink?”