by Mark Daydy
A bishop once asked Lucy if she’d ever sought refreshment. She told him she didn’t need it. And that’s how it felt right now. She had put Libby and the cup behind her, and Ned would go wherever he went. She was only looking forward.
Returning to the quiet reception desk, she glanced at the wall clock. It was a few minutes to one. What would she do this fine Wednesday lunchtime? The weather was exceptionally pleasant, so it would probably be a sandwich on a bench in the grounds. She wouldn’t be alone. It was a popular choice among staff.
The phone rang. She glanced at the clock again. It was still a few minutes to one.
“Hello, St Katherine’s College. How may I help.”
“Can I speak to Lucy Holt?”
“Lucy Holt speaking. Who’s this?”
“It’s Terry Norton in Chichester. We spoke the other day.”
Lucy’s heart sank.
“How can I help?”
“Well, it’s me who can help you. Assuming you’re able to pay a hundred.”
Fake earrings came to mind. “I’m not interested.”
“It’s information. You remember Frankie confirmed some names for you. Well, he’s found the whereabouts of one you might want to take a closer look at. Namely, Billy Brown.”
“What? No, I…”
“Seventy quid. I can’t say fairer.”
Lucy hated him. She hated Sussex too. But…
“Did you try Nick?”
“Yes, but he’s not interested in paying for information. He said to try you.”
Lucy hesitated. This wasn’t part of her plans for the week or the rest of her life.
“My cousin Jane might be able to help.”
“Don’t give me the runaround. Do you want to know where to find Billy or not?”
Lucy usually had a liking for straightforward questions where a simple yes or no answer would be sufficient.
Not now though.
*
The following morning, Lucy stepped off the train onto the platform. A small number of others did likewise. That was the thing with a journey away from London to the college in Hatfield, Hertfordshire. Few were engaged in morning journeys away from the big city. It was the same here in Sussex. Few had journeyed with her from Waterloo to Chichester.
She looked up at the platform clock.
It was 10:30.
She was absolutely fed up with being made to look a fool. She would get to the bottom of this annoying chalice mystery if it killed her. To that end, she had arranged to pick up a hire car from a local firm. She wouldn’t pick it up yet though – not until she’d seen Terry, who was a ten-minute walk away.
She seethed all the way there, dragging an unwilling wheelie travel bag behind her.
“Hello, stranger,” said Terry as she entered his shop.
“Billy’s address,” said Lucy.
“But first, you’ll be making a purchase?”
“Don’t you already owe me a wristwatch and a pendant necklace?”
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Ah, now you mention it…”
He rummaged in a drawer behind him and produced a wristwatch and a necklace.
“Billy’s address,” Lucy insisted.
“You’ve haven’t bought anything yet.”
“What?”
“I mean you haven’t bought anything recently.”
“Good grief.”
“How about a nice sapphire ring, 1920s, worth a hundred. It’s yours for seventy.”
Lucy put down a couple of tens and a pair of emerald earrings.
“What’s this?” Terry queried.
“Twenty in cash plus a pair of silver and emerald earrings worth fifty.”
“Cor… you sure you’re not in the game?”
“Billy’s address.”
Terry huffed but handed her the ring, watch, necklace, and a slip of paper with the details. Lucy checked it and left. She was in such a mood that it was only when she was halfway to the hire car place that she realized she’d forgotten to ask for her five percent Loyalty Club discount.
*
Lucy pulled the hired Nissan into a space by a hedge. She was opposite the entrance to a lovely little cul-de-sac in the village of Leygate. The first house on the right was detached and would be worth a good price.
A moment later, she rang the bell. She would be tough and to the point. No more crap from anyone.
A downstairs curtain twitched. A moment later, an elderly man answered the door.
“Hello?”
Lucy accepted that he came over as sweet.
“Hello, I’m looking for Billy Brown.”
“Yes?”
“My name is Lucy Holt and I’m hoping to help my aunt Libby. She’s the widow of a man called Eddie Cole, who I think you knew.”
“Eddie Cole? Can’t say I recall an Eddie Cole.”
“This would have been a few years ago. Someone gave him a silver communion chalice as payment for his services.”
“A chalice? You mean a cup?”
“Yes. This one has a base, a paten, that you can use as a lid. Did you ever give something like that to Eddie?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? It turned out to be a fake.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying this Eddie chap has a fake antique?”
“Had – he passed away a few years back. He always assumed it was genuine though. Then, last week, my aunt had it valued.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“Are you sure you don’t recall Eddie? There’s a photo of you and him outside your new premises in Chichester.”
Lucy held up her phone to show him the photo.
“That was years ago – and I met a lot of people. I left there quite a while back.”
“But you do recall him.”
“Maybe. As in possibly, vaguely.”
“Did he work for you?”
“No, never.”
“Might he have helped you in some way and you paid him with a silver cup?”
“No, he never worked for me or with me, so I never paid him – either in cash or with a silver cup. If I recall rightly, he was a bit of a gambler.”
Lucy thought of James.
“Mind you,” said Billy, “in the old days we all liked a flutter on the horses just up the road from here. Glorious Goodwood… I first went there in the early sixties. Those were the days. I used to pull a few strokes in Brighton too, flogging gear to the tourists. I must have been in my twenties…”
Lucy smiled. Maybe Billy didn’t get to talk about the old days much. At the same time, she was wondering how she might continue her investigation. Eleanor had always been a suspicious character. She probably knew far more than she ever let on. Or was this just desperation at having come back to Sussex only to find another dead end?
*
Eleanor was surprised to see Lucy back in Sussex. Surprised and a little put out.
“What is going on, Lucy? You’re acting irrationally.”
“I’ve come up with a surprising discovery. Eddie might have been a gambler.”
“Well, you would know all about that.”
Ouch.
“Eddie was a maverick,” Eleanor continued, “but he came from a good family.”
Take a chance. You are a temporary fearless investigator.
“I went to see Eddie’s friend Billy Brown.”
This won’t work.
Eleanor said nothing.
“Did you ever hear of a man called Billy Brown working with Eddie?”
You have zero chance.
“Eleanor? Do you think Libby might know something about Billy?”
Eleanor suddenly became animated. “Please don’t trouble Libby with any of this,” she said. “The Billy you’re referring to was a common crook.”
Wow.
“Can you tell me anything more than that?”
“No.”
Lucy wondered what to do next. Would she go
back and see Billy on the basis that she had established he wasn’t a sweet old man but a retired villain?
Her phone rang.
“Sorry Eleanor, can I get this?” She stepped away and answered. “Hello?”
“Nick Taylor gave me the name of Lucy Holt.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Dominic Hall, furniture restorer. One of my sidelines is old horses. I might have something on H. S. for you.”
“Wow, really?”
“This was about twenty years back, so it’s a bit vague… but there was a woman enquiring about horses with the maker’s initials. I can’t be certain, but it might have been H. S.”
“Can you describe her?”
“I’d say she was medium build, about sixty.”
“So, eighty-ish now.”
“If she’s still around, yes. I don’t recall her name, but her passion struck me.”
“Can you remember where she was from?”
“I’m fairly certain it was Arundel.”
*
It was lunchtime and Lucy was in a shop in Arundel talking posters with the lady behind the counter.
“It’s going to cost.”
She sounded like Terry.
“How much?”
“Call it ten pounds.”
Now she didn’t sound like Terry at all.
“That’s great, thanks.”
“Or you could have the better-quality plastic coverings for fifteen.”
“Hmmm…” She picked up a local guidebook. “How about this as well?”
“Call it twenty for the lot.”
“Great,” said Lucy. “Let’s do it.”
Ten minutes later, she was fixing the first of her posters to a nearby lamppost.
Wooden Rocking Horse
If you were looking for a rocking horse some years ago bearing the initials H. S. – please pop into the stationer’s shop and leave your details.
She had thought to use her own phone number, but the lady in the shop suggested it might lead to unpleasant calls from bored troublemakers. For another ten pounds, Lucy was happy to use their message-taking service.
*
Just after three p.m., Lucy pulled up outside Libby’s. Having left home at six-thirty that morning, she was exhausted. The cheery yellow flowers on the clematis brightened her mood though – as did the tea and chocolate sponge cake a somewhat surprised Libby provided.
“Are you sure you’re not becoming obsessed, Lucy?”
“It’s a concentrated burst.”
“A concentrated burst of obsession?”
“A concentrated burst of investigation. I absolutely must be back at work on Monday.”
“Well, good luck. The whole thing seems impenetrable.”
“Eleanor thinks this Billy Brown character was a crook.”
“So, what will you do next?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What would they do on TV?”
“I really don’t think that’s relevant.”
“It’s all we have to guide us, isn’t it?”
“We can think outside the box.”
“Which box?”
“Libby, I’m determined to help you.”
“The whole thing was just a bit of bad luck. I’m not sure digging into the past like this will achieve anything useful.”
“Could I use your sofa?”
“You’re already sitting on it.”
“Just to close my eyes for an hour.”
“You’re overdoing it, dear.”
But Lucy was already leaning heavily to one side, eyes closing, mouth opening. The last she heard was Libby saying, “you don’t see that with TV detectives.”
Lucy’s phone rang.
She opened her eyes.
“You’ve only had thirty seconds,” said Libby.
Lucy answered the call.
“Hi, it’s Terry Norton. Fast Frankie has some info – if you’re interested.”
Lucy suppressed a yawn.
“Where do I find him?”
“You talk to me. I’ll pass on the info.”
“How do I know he has anything worth saying?”
“I can give you a bit on trust. Billy Brown’s success was built on fake antiques and dodgy valuation reports.”
Wow…
“How did he get fake reports? Coercion? Matchsticks under the fingernails?”
“No, the old valuer had gambling debts.”
Lucy understood gambling debts. James once sold her new laptop to pay off a poker loss.
“I’m not sure where this is getting us?” she said.
“Eddie assumed the chalice was real. He was greedy. Did you know he brought the entire family down?”
“What? How?”
“Invest in Frankie and he’ll tell you everything. Only fifty quid.”
22. A Bit of a Shock
The need to travel from Camley to Chichester offered Lucy an opportunity to get Jane back on board. With that in mind, she withdrew more cash from her bank account and phoned her cousin with an update. Jane was surprised that Lucy was back in Sussex and seemed hesitant.
“Will you come with me?” Lucy asked a second time.
“Okay, but you might not want to see me.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I had dinner with Nick on Tuesday.”
“Oh?”
“We went back to my place for coffee and he stayed over.”
Lucy suddenly felt isolated.
“Um… okay…”
There was a short silence before Jane spoke.
“Do you still want me to come with you?”
Another silence ensued before Lucy replied.
“Yes.”
Lucy was shattered by the Nick-Jane news but decided to be stoic. It was no one’s fault. She would get to the bottom of Libby’s fake chalice mystery and return to London.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucy pulled up outside Jane’s place in Littlehampton. Jane was already at the door. A moment later, she was clicking her seatbelt into place.
“I never knew you were coming back. Neither did Nick.”
“Honestly, it’s fine.”
“I might have dinner with him again.”
“Oh. Is Nick okay with that? Sorry, that sounds crass.”
“Lucy, you and Nick would have been great together. I hope you don’t think bad of me.”
“No, of course not.”
But she did. Very much so.
*
The road to Chichester was quiet, which matched the atmosphere in the car.
“I should have called or texted or something,” said Jane.
“You had no reason to.”
“I thought it would be another year or two before we saw each other again. Why didn’t you say?”
“Nobody’s to blame. All I’d like now is that we drop the subject and get back to where we were.”
“Right. Agreed.”
Half an hour, the cousins entered Terry Norton’s emporium.
“Ladies… how lovely to see you.” He eyed Jane. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
“You never will. Now what’s this info you have. I don’t like being dragged all the way across the county.”
Terry appealed to Lucy. “A friend of yours?”
“My cousin Jane. So what can you tell us?”
“Ah yes… Eddie… It was a scheme that boosted social standing while bringing in good money. It was perfect, really. Kind of.”
With the end of the Eddie mystery hopefully in sight, Lucy handed over fifty pounds. In return, she received a brooch and a receipt.
Jane looked far from happy.
“If this is a load of balls…”
“Basically, I can tell you it was a financial disaster. Eddie invested badly and lost everyone’s money. For another fifty, I can give you the whole thing.”
“Just tell us the damned story,” Jane demanded.
“Sorry, those are my terms.”
Out of nowhere and quite unexpectedly, Lucy felt her inner Incredible Hulk awakening. She picked up a flowery vase and a small brass carriage clock from a display table.
“I’m very tired, Terry. Tell us what we’ve paid for or find out if these items can defy gravity.”
“Okay, calm down, ladies. I was going to tell you everything. I was just seeing if there was a supplementary earning opportunity, that’s all.”
“There isn’t,” said Jane, “so get on with it.”
“Okay, okay.”
Terry tucked the fifty under a brass barometer sitting on a dark wood sideboard. Lucy put the items under threat safely back.
“So… Eddie… According to Frankie, back in the day, he was doing everything to rub shoulders with the great and the good. Frankie thought he was a sleazy, crawly-arse, but his sister-in-law Eleanor encouraged him. She had a real obsession about meeting dignitaries. She sounds a bit deranged, if you ask me.”
“Eleanor’s my mum,” said Jane.
“Ah…”
“But you’re not wrong.”
“Right, so… one day Eddie was approached by this posh bloke who knew people in the City… Frankie can’t recall his name…”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Jane. “What happened?”
“He invited Eddie to become a Lloyd’s Name.”
“Oh no,” groaned Jane.
“It rings a bell,” said Lucy. “I’m guessing it didn’t end well.”
Terry licked his lips. He was enjoying himself.
“This is where you get your money’s worth, ladies. This was a guaranteed, sure-fire way for specially invited posh people, top actors, sports legends and famous celebrities to earn the easiest money you’ve ever dreamt of. You didn't even have to pay in. You just collected. Brilliant, eh?”
“Remind me of the catch,” said Jane.
“Catch? There was no catch. Lloyd’s was an insurer on the world stage, and you could be part of it. All you had to do was guarantee any losses made in the highly unlikely and almost impossible event of a record-breaking claim.”
