by Suzy Shearer
“Come and have a drink with me.”
“No thank you. You and I have nothing to share.”
“No, we don’t, although you could share some of your lovely pounds with your ex.”
“Get lost, Peter,” she said wearily.
How on earth she’d been stupid enough to get married to him was beyond her imagining.
“Come on, Isabella. I’m in a pickle. Just give a few grand,” he said, his voice whiny.
Angrily she replied, “You’ve got to be joking! You’ll get nothing more from me, Peter.”
“You always were mean,” he growled.
“This is tedious. Good-bye, Peter.”
Isabella went to push past him but he grabbed her arm—hard.
“That’s no way to act with your ex-husband. Come on. How about giving me a few thousand.”
She shivered suddenly as he cruelly dug his fingers in. She glared into his face then dropped her eyes purposefully to his hand on her arm.
With all the fury she could manage she hissed, “Let go of me, Peter. Remember what happened last time.”
He dropped her arm but the look he gave was malicious. He glared at her viciously and menacingly pointed a finger in her face
“Yes. You had me arrested. There’s no way I will ever forget. I lost all my money paying the fucking fine, not to mention all those months of community service.”
Somehow she managed not to flinch as she moved past him and walked quickly away. As she turned the corner she glanced back. Peter stared at her retreating figure with a look on his face that gave Isabella the creeps. Isabella hurried on to Modern Models to meet up with Erica, they were going to try on the altered wedding dress and a bridesmaid dress that had been chosen last month. She was spending the night in Erica’s apartment rather than drive home late at night. She felt on edge as she walked into the office.
“Issie, hi. What’s up? You look awful.”
Isabella dropped into a chair and looked at her friend.
“Peter. I’ve just bumped into Peter.”
“Hope you ignored him.”
Isabella told her the conversation they’d had and how he’d grabbed her arm.
“I’m sure I’ll have bruises there tomorrow, he really dug his fingers in—on purpose. He sounded really angry when I said I wouldn’t give him any money.”
“Maybe you should mention it to the police.”
“And say what? He didn’t actually threaten me in words, it was just the way he said them.”
“I guess so. Look, forget about him, let’s go try on our dresses.”
As they walked along the street to the bridal showroom Erica said, “Hey, guess what? You’re going to love this.”
“Okay, I give in, what?”
“Derek Fulton’s ex-wife has written a book—an exposé. She talks about the in-crowd in the art world around here at that time.”
“Wow, I hope I’m not mentioned.”
“You never ran with the in-crowd, Issie. You always kept apart from the crazy doings and stayed professional. Anyway, she rats out on Derek.”
“What do you mean, ‘rats out’?”
“Told how he blamed everyone else because he was so lousy in bed, how he chased all those young girls for bragging rights. She left him a few years after you did, as you know. Well, she says he got gonorrhoea and didn’t bother telling any of his partners. Spread it around.”
“You’re joking! Wow, thank goodness I left him when I did.”
“That’s not all. Now he’s a drunkard and losing his marbles. Nobody takes any notice of him and he’s been virtually shunned. Bet that explains that outburst at you at the auction for Britt. He wasn’t even invited, just turned up near the end of the auction for the free grog.”
“I guess it does.”
Inside Isabella was cringing but at least now she realised nobody would care about the things he said. That ghost had now been laid to rest.
She and Erica spent the next few hours in the bridal shop. Erica was there for her final fitting of her slim-lined mermaid style dress. Isabella thought she’d never seen her friend look more beautiful. A taffeta, strapless gown, it had asymmetrical ruched panels on the bodice and waist with an embellished detail on the sweetheart neckline. As well, there was a matching jacket. She and Isabella had also settled on a very dark green dress for Isabella. It had an off-the-shoulder neckline with sleeves to the elbow. The long skirt was crêpe with an over skirt of chiffon made from the same dark green. It looked lovely on her with her auburn hair. The wedding was to take place in four weeks.
When Isabella got home the next morning she spent some time chatting with her parents before Gabriel turned up. He took them all to lunch at the pub and in the afternoon she and Gabriel relaxed in front of the television. Before they settled down Isabella changed while Gabriel made them both a coffee. When they sat together he noticed the bruise on her arm.
“Issie, when did I do that?”
“You didn’t. It’s courtesy of my ex-husband.”
Gabriel sat up quickly, anger on his face.
“Shit, Issie. What the hell happened?”
Isabella explained what had occurred. Gabriel wanted to ring the police but as Isabella had told Erica he didn’t actually threaten her, it was more the look on his face. Reluctantly Gabriel agreed but she could see he wasn’t happy at all.
Over the next few weeks Isabella forgot all about the meeting with Peter. She and Gabriel had decided that she would move into his home. Her parents had agreed to move into her main house once she left.
The upcoming wedding between Erica and Ian was foremost in her mind. On top of that she had worked on a design for the studio they were building at Gabriel’s for her. At the moment the outbuildings attached to his studio were being converted for Isabella’s use. When they’d been guttered it was discovered they would have to actually rebuild a lot of the framework so the job would take longer than first anticipated. Once the conversions were finished they would move all her equipment over but that was still many weeks away.
She’d finally finished the full-sized clay model of the bull. It would still need smoothing but the main work was now finished. She’d just get rid of any tiny marks or imperfections and let it dry completely. Then it would be fired before she cut it into a few pieces before moulding.
Getting up after deciding to get an early start on things, Isabella dressed in her work clothes and went downstairs. Gabriel was working on a new commission so they’d arranged that today would be for both to get some serious work done. Isabella made a coffee and headed down to the studio. The door was partly open. She knew she’d locked it yesterday. Walking quietly, she reached the door and peered inside.
She spilt her coffee as she raced back into the house. Isabella grabbed the phone. She called the police then Gabriel, hoping he’d hear the phone.
Please let him be in the house still and not in the studio!
“Gabe!” she screamed down the phone.
“Issie. What’s wrong?”
Isabella couldn’t contain her tears.
“Issie. Issie, please, what’s happened?”
She heard the fright in his voice as she took a huge gulp of air.
“Someone…someone broke into my studio,” stammering, she managed to tell Gabriel.
“What? Fuck. I’m coming over. Ring the police.”
“I have, they’re on their way,” she answered tearfully.
“Good. I’ll be there soon.”
Isabella hung up and went back to the studio doorway. Inside was a shattered mess. She knew not to enter but it was hard to just stand there and look in from the outside. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she turned away then sat down on a chair under one of the trees outside the building. She was so glad her parents were on a short holiday visiting some of their old friends.
Five minutes later the police arrived. Two men walked toward her. One held out his hand to shake hers.
“My name is Sergeant
Wales. Can you tell us what’s happened please, Miss?”
“I decided to do some work early and just made a coffee. I walked down to the studio and could see the door was partly opened. I knew I’d locked it yesterday afternoon. I…I looked in.”
The police and Isabella had walked to the doorway. The other officer gave a whistle.
“Mm, it’s a mess. Look, I’d rather we don’t go inside until I get someone here to check for fingerprints. Do you keep anything valuable in there?”
“I’m a sculptor. Valuable? Heck, some of the casting moulds are priceless. If they’ve been taken someone could make a fortune. I usually destroy the limited edition moulds once they’ve reached their edition number but there are two limited edition ones still here and there are others that could be used.”
“Right.”
The other officer went back to the car, presumably to call for someone to take fingerprints. A few minutes later Gabriel drove in and rushed to her. Isabella threw herself into his arms. He spoke to the police officer over her head.
“Can we go inside?”
“Not yet. We’re hoping there are fingerprints or some other evidence we can use to identify whoever broke in.”
“Everything’s smashed, Gabe. I think they smashed Ferdinand.”
“What?”
He looked around Isabella and the officer, peering into the wrecked studio.
“Oh no!”
Isabella burst into tears again.
“While we wait can you give me details, please? Name, what should be in there that would be considered valuable and what sort of price.”
They moved back under the tree and sat. Isabella told him her name and listed what should be in the rooms of the studio.
“As for value, there are tools like welders, grinders, and such. There’s a huge kiln. But you’d need a truck to move it but if it’s damaged it will need repairing. There are the cast moulds.” She sighed. “If you knew what they were and how to use them they could be worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.”
“Do you have insurance?”
“Yes.”
Another car pulled up and the specialist unit poured into the studio.
“Why don’t you both go inside? This will take a while. When we get the ‘all clear’ I’ll want you to go through and see what’s missing or damaged.”
“Come on, Issie. I’ll make you a tea.”
Isabella allowed Gabriel to lead her into the house. Shock had set in and she had no idea what she was doing. He sat down on the couch in the family room and pulled her onto his lap. She turned into his chest and sobbed. Isabella had no idea how long she cried but all she knew was Gabriel held her safe. When she’d stopped crying he sat her on the couch and stood.
“I’ll make you a cuppa.”
There was no denying how much she loved him. Her heart raced each time she saw him. These past eight months had been as if her life had re-awakened. She was enervated and even Erica had commented how relaxed and happy she was. Life was wonderful.
Now this.
She and Gabriel sat drinking their tea. He talked about nothing in particular, trying to keep her mind off what may have happened in the studio. They talked about his latest painting, a new commission, he’d narrowed down the pose and he was pleased with the way it was progressing. A few hours passed when an officer knocked on the door. They both jumped to their feet and went out.
“Sergeant Wales would like you to come into the building now.”
They followed the man to the door of the studio where the Sergeant waited.
“Now, Miss Coburn, if you could check everything. We need to know exactly what’s been taken.”
“Okay.”
She grabbed Gabriel’s hand tightly as they entered. It was impossible to hold back her moans of dismay. Lumps of clay had been thrown all over the place. All the photographs and the sketches Gabriel had done of Ferdinand that Isabella had pinned to the large board were now in thousands of pieces and strewn all over the place. The small clay model of the bull that she’d fired was shattered in a thousand pieces on the floor.
“What about the actual model, Issie? Oh, and check the moulds, too.”
She went into the welding room and gave a huge sigh of relief—the moulds were still there and untouched. She turned to the kiln and it looked fine. Hesitantly opening the door, she thankfully cried out aloud. The huge bull was intact, as was the bronze behind it that she’d made of the small bull as a present for Gabriel.
Walking back into the main studio where Gabriel was examining the torn paper on the floor, she looked around, puzzled.
“I don’t think anything’s been taken. I mean, things have been ruined but I don’t see anything missing. And except for one piece nothing important has been damaged,” Isabella said wonderingly.
“You sure, Miss Coburn?”
“I think so. All my tools are still here. The casting moulds are all intact and accounted for. I don’t understand.” She was really confused.
“Could have been kids playing silly buggers.”
Gabriel put an arm across her shoulders and she leaned into him. An officer in overalls came over.
“I’ve taken photographs of everything. Whoever did this had gloves on, so no fingerprints.” He looked at Isabella. “Does your car drop oil?”
“No.”
“Okay. There’s fresh oil just outside the door and when they’ve driven out they’ve gone through it. I’ve photographed the tire tread.”
Sergeant Wales thanked the man and turned back to Isabella and Gabriel.
“Well, maybe we rule out kids. Anyone with a grudge?”
Isabella shook her head.
“No. I can’t think of anyone who’d do this.”
Gabriel looked down at Isabella.
“What about your ex?”
“Peter?”
She cocked her head thinking. Would he be that stupid?
“My ex-husband is the only person I can think of but I … well to be honest I can’t see him doing this and I don’t think he even knows where I live.”
“We’ll check him out. Can you give me his full name and address?”
“His name is Peter Watson but I have no idea where he lives.”
“Okay we can find out.”
The officers began packing away their cameras and the sergeant told Isabella they would keep her posted if they had any leads. He gave her the incident number then they left. Isabella stood looking at the ruins.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get this cleaned up.”
Confused, she said, “Why would anyone do this? It doesn’t make sense.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Who knows? Some people just do horrible things for fun.”
“I can’t imagine Peter coming out here and doing this.”
“Well the police will see if he has an alibi.” He gave her a cuddle then kissed the top of her head. “I’ll ring Ian, he’s got a cousin who’s a locksmith. Maybe he can come out today and put new locks on the door for you.”
“Thank you.”
Isabella walked through the studio while Gabriel went outside to phone. She picked up a large garbage bin and began tossing clay into it. When Gabriel came back inside he told her Ian would get his cousin to come over today then he began picking up the debris.
“I wonder why I didn’t hear a car come in through the night.”
“Maybe it happened while we were at the restaurant for dinner, Issie. We didn’t get home till late, anyway you were pretty tired.”
“I guess so.”
Twenty minutes later Ian and Erica turned up.
Isabella whispered to Gabriel, “Don’t mention Peter, I don’t want Erica to worry because of her wedding. She’s got enough on her plate at the moment.”
He nodded his agreement. Erica and Ian had been having a late lunch together at Ian’s Leicester office when Gabriel had rung Ian. About half an hour after they arrived Ian’s cousin George arrived and fitted new locks to the doors plus s
ome security bolts on the windows. It took the four of them all afternoon but they finally had the place reasonably clean.
From that day onward Isabella made sure the studio was firmly locked when she wasn’t inside. She also ensured anything she was working on was kept in the large kiln for safety. It was annoying moving things back and forth but at least she knew things were safe. Thank goodness the walk-in kiln was one of the largest on the market.
During the next few weeks she got a few anonymous letters hinting at damaging the studio again. She turned them over to Sergeant Wales. He had previously informed her that Peter had an alibi and also did not own a car so the police were looking for someone else.
Unfortunately there were two more break-ins, each time things were strewn around the studio and benches overturned. They both happened when she was spending the day at Gabriel’s and when her parents weren’t at home. Fortunately nothing important had been damaged but it was taking a toll on Isabella emotionally. Still, she needed to put it aside and continue working. She was determined to not let whoever was targeting her stop her.
Each day when she got up she would check the studio fearfully before starting work. Isabella had gotten into the habit of locking whatever she could in cupboards or the kiln, anything to stop the unwarranted damage. Three break-ins had made her anxious. She’d been a nervous wreck while the model of the bull was being fired and refused to leave the house until it was finished. It had meant that nothing else could be put into the kiln whenever she wasn’t home or had finished working for the day until the kiln cooled.
Erica had found Isabella a young man who fitted Isabella’s idea of a matador. She arranged for him to come to the studio which the bull was being fired in the kiln. Ian’s cousin had fitted a lock on the kiln door but until the firing was complete and the kiln cooled nothing could be stored inside.
The young model was thin but had previously been a dancer. His muscles were well defined and when Isabella had him drape himself over a form she was delighted that he matched the idea in her head.
She’d taken dozens of photographs and measurements before doing a small rough clay model. Now it was time to start on the real thing. Now that the male figure for the bull’s back had been started Isabella felt very worried. At the moment it was only a rough blob but she was terrified the vandal would break in and damage whatever she’d left out
