False Picture

by Veronica Heley

‘Mrs Abbot, is that you?’ Oliver, trying to control excitement. ‘I don’t know what to do. She’s throwing all her husband’s things out of the window into the garden at the back and as fast as I can pick them up, she’s throwing more …’ A crash at the other end. ‘That was a television set, would you believe?’

  Bea groaned. What more trouble could this day hold? ‘You want me to come round?’

  ‘Yes, but … the thing is, she wants to give me his car, and it’s a Peugeot that she gave him for his last birthday, and I keep saying I can’t take it, and she says that she wants to give it to me because I’m a nice boy, nicer than Philip, and if I won’t accept it, she says she’ll take it down to the Embankment and drive it into the Thames! I don’t know that that’s possible – to drive it into the river, I mean – but I do believe she’ll crash it or something. What do I do?’

  Bea tried to think. Had Velma the right to dispose of her husband’s belongings? Perhaps Sandy had made a will, and if so, then maybe everything – or a lot of things – might now belong to Philip. If he could be found. ‘Oliver, can’t you reason with her? No, silly of me. Of course you can’t reason with a woman whose temporarily off her rocker. If it were just Philip’s things she wants to destroy …?’

  ‘At the moment it’s her husband’s stuff. Clothes, shoes, DVDs, you name it, and it’s raining down into the garden. I’ve had to take refuge in the kitchen doorway.’

  Bea tried to think clearly. ‘Suppose you retrieve as much as you can, and stow it in the Peugeot. Then we can remove the car with its contents and garage it somewhere till she’s calmed down. Yes, that would be best. But you mustn’t try to drive it.’ She held on to the phone but looked up at Piers. ‘Piers, did you get the gist of that? Do you think you could rescue the car for us? Oliver’s not passed his test yet and we don’t want him getting picked up for driving and taking away – or worse.’

  Piers nodded. ‘I’ll get round there straight away.’ He disappeared.

  Maggie arrived in the doorway. ‘Ta-da! Supper is served!’

  Bea held up her hand to silence Maggie while she returned to the mobile.

  ‘Oliver, Piers is on his way. He’ll take the car and put it somewhere safe. Don’t try to stop Velma throwing things out because she’ll only turn on you. Make her a cup of sugary tea, see if you can get her to drink it and to eat some biscuits. Carbohydrates help with the shock. She’ll wear herself out soon. I’ll come down to help you when I’ve got things sorted at this end, right?’ She put the phone down with a tired sigh.

  Maggie went into her mother-hen mode. ‘Oh, you poor thing. You must be worn out. You must eat something or you’ll be no good to man or beast.’

  ‘True,’ said Bea, trying to smile. ‘Eat first, and then I’ll go and see what I can do to help Velma. You can look after Charlotte, can’t you?’

  Charlotte came into the room, munching a huge slice of pizza. Pizza? thought Bea. Weren’t we having a Chinese?

  Charlotte pounced on the duvet which had covered Bea while she napped. ‘At last! Honestly! How could you!’

  Bea had had enough. ‘Charlotte, has it never occurred to you that you’d get on better in this world if you thanked people for helping you, instead of criticizing them every time you open your mouth?’

  Charlotte bridled, stuffing another mouthful of pizza in. She spluttered through it, causing flakes of pizza to fall on to the ivory carpet together with a string of melted cheese. ‘You have to take me as you find me.’ She cleared her mouth partially and continued, ‘I’m no hypocrite, pretending to be charitable to a poor girl who hasn’t got anyone to stand up for her, and then making her life a misery!’

  ‘You are a very rude and ungrateful little girl,’ said Bea, who’d had more than enough of Charlotte. ‘And while you’re a guest under my roof, you abide by my rules. You will say please and thank you when appropriate, and you will refrain from borrowing my clothes. Is that clear?’

  Charlotte opened her mouth and wailed. Tears spurted.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said Maggie, but she was half laughing as she steered Charlotte out of the room. ‘Come along, Charlotte. Mrs Abbot’s quite right, you know. You really should mind your Ps and Qs more. What I think is that we’re all so tired now, we’re not exactly at our best, right?’ Her voice faded away as she led Charlotte into the kitchen.

  Bea began to laugh and caught herself crying.

  This would never do. Oliver needed her, and so did Velma. Poor Velma! Bea found a tissue, mopped up, blew her nose, and told herself she’d be much better for getting some food inside her. She followed the girls out to the kitchen.

  Later Tuesday evening

  Rafael stood in Charlotte’s room at the flat and felt his headache intensify.

  There was evidence that the girls had returned from Bruges and repacked to leave in a hurry, leaving clothes half in and half out of the wardrobe, on the bed and spilling from a chest of drawers. Or was this how they’d left it when they went off yesterday?

  Rafael hated it when things didn’t go according to plan.

  Calm down, he told himself. The girls left the hotel in Bruges this morning. Perhaps the car has broken down, or they’ve had an accident on the way.

  He rang the garage. Had the hire car been returned yet? It had? All was well, then.

  Or not. For if they’d got back safely, where were they now? A thought: he went into the girls’ bathroom. There was no sign of their toilet bags. Wherever they were, they intended to stay away tonight. This was more than slightly worrying. Suppose they’d talked to someone at the hotel who’d advised them to go to the police or …

  Ridiculous. They couldn’t risk that, or they’d be had up for smuggling.

  There was one way to find out. He had no opinion of Charlotte’s discretion, and had warned Liam never to let her suspect that he, Rafael, might be involved in anything illegal. He didn’t want her to think anything was wrong now, either.

  Suppose he pretended Liam had been on the phone to him, said he was leaving the country? Suppose he, Rafael, made himself available as a shoulder to cry on, she’d be so grateful that she’d tell him anything he wished to know, wouldn’t she?

  He pulled out his little book and found her mobile phone number.

  Seventeen

  Tuesday mid-evening

  Bea got as far as the kitchen door only to see Charlotte sobbing noisily at the table, while Maggie patted her on the back. Bea hesitated, and Maggie looked up.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Abbot, you do look tired. How about I bring you something on a tray in the other room, and you can eat there in peace and quiet?’ Maggie being tactful? Or did Bea really look as much of a wreck as she felt?

  In late years she and Hamilton had usually eaten in the kitchen even when they had guests, but there was a perfectly good dining table in the living room. It would be a treat to sit down there and be served food, even if it were only pizza. In fact, it was Chinese, because Maggie had ordered both. As she set the dishes in front of Bea, Maggie explained that there was more than enough over for Oliver and Piers when they returned. ‘And now I’ll get back to Charlotte, poor thing.’

  Bea had an uneasy feeling that she ought not to be sitting down to eat while so much was happening but she had hardly eaten anything all day, and knew she’d cope better when she’d got some food inside her. She pulled a library book towards her and found her place. Something soothing by Ann Tyler; enough pathos to help you identify with her characters, and enough humour and hope to reassure the reader that life was worth living.

  She still felt jaded after she’d eaten but could get on with life again. The landline rang as she took her tray out to the kitchen. There was no sign of Charlotte, but Maggie had taken the call. ‘Mr Piers says he’s loaded up his car and the Peugeot with the stuff that Mrs Weston’s thrown out, and he’d like to know where you want it. Is he to bring the car here?’

  ‘I suppose it had better be garaged somewhere. What about the place that your hire car cam
e from? Can you give Piers the address? I could meet him there and give him a lift back to Velma’s.’

  Maggie relayed this, and nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll tell her.’ She nodded some more as Piers talked. When she came off the phone she said, ‘Piers says OK, he’ll meet you at the hire car place. He says Oliver’s in with Mrs Weston, who’s stopped throwing stuff around and is working through mountains of paperwork, stuffing it into plastic bin bags. The men are not sure what important papers she might be getting rid of, so Oliver’s offered to take them away and shred them for her. She’s agreed.’

  ‘Oliver’s worth his weight,’ said Bea, looking round for her handbag. ‘I’d better get going, then. Where’s Charlotte? Washing her hair again?’

  Maggie half laughed, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry for her, you know? Well, most of the time I’m sorry for her. The rest of the time I could kill her. I explained that Mrs Weston needed you with her now her husband’s died, but Charlotte’s so self-centred she can’t take anyone else’s troubles on board. She’s had a phone call from a friend, someone who works in the library with her, who’s offered to take her out for a drink, so she got changed and went to meet him. I didn’t give her a key – I didn’t think you’d want her to have one – but I said I’d be around to let her in when she returned. She shouldn’t be that late.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Bea. ‘I’m thinking Mrs Weston might like me to stay with her for a while, but if she does I’ll have to drop back to pick up for some overnight things. Can you manage here? Yes, of course you can. Maggie, I really am delighted to have you back.’

  Maggie twisted her body, embarrassed. ‘Well, I’m pleased to be back, too. That Zander thing, it was horrid, you know? I did fancy him, of course I did, but when I saw him in hospital, I went off him. Isn’t that awful?’

  ‘My dear.’ Bea put her arm round Maggie’s shoulders. ‘It happens. How many times do we fancy a man when we meet him at a party and the next time we see him, kerplunk! We realize he’s not exactly the Prince Charming we’d thought him.’

  ‘That’s it. It was such a wonderful party and I haven’t had many of those, not like that with everyone welcoming me, and Zander was so handsome. I suppose I got a bit above myself, as my mother would say. Now I’ve come down to earth with a bump. Only, I keep worrying what he’s going to do, with all his belongings gone and … do you think Charlotte will allow him back?’

  Bea rubbed her forehead. Was her headache coming back full strength? ‘Let’s deal with that when he’s ready to leave hospital.’ She collected her handbag and located her car keys. Where had she said she’d go first? Ah, the garage. Piers might even be there by now.

  Piers was. Fortunately the garage people had space for the Peugeot, at a price. Bea paid, grimly wondering how much out of pocket she was going to be in this affair. Without Velma to bankroll them, her expenses were going to have to come out of any reward the insurance people might come up with. If Mr Goldstone was as good as his word.

  Piers got into the passenger seat of her car, and she drove off.

  He was yawning. ‘Rescuing damsels in distress makes one feel quite good about oneself. Trying to rescue a damsel who doesn’t want to be rescued is something else. I’ve an appointment at eight that I’d rather like to keep, but I must get home and change first.’

  ‘Has your car been loaded up with some of Sandy’s stuff as well?’

  He slid down in the seat, closing his eyes. ‘Don’t remind me. I told young hopeful that I refused to accept anything I couldn’t sell in a charity shop. He was trying to load some skis and a bag of cricket impedimenta into the boot at the time. He gave me a slit-eyed look and said he was doing his best, but he did take the hint and removed the sporting gear. I fear he’s formed a low opinion of my capacity for brotherly love.’

  ‘Thank you, Piers. You’ve been wonderful.’

  ‘I wish you could say that as if you meant it.’

  ‘I do mean it. Maggie’s saved some Chinese for supper for you, if you want it.’

  ‘Dinner date. Tell her I’ll drop by for some of her own cooking some other time. She’s a good kid, if noisy.’

  ‘It seems to me that anyone under thirty-five makes too much noise.’

  ‘Us oldies,’ said Piers, yawning again, but unfolding himself as they drew up behind his car outside the Weston house. ‘I’ll just collect my keys from Oliver and be off. You know where to find me.’

  At that moment Oliver came out of the house, carrying two large black bin bags. Two more were in the porch. On seeing Bea, he brought them down to stow in the boot of her car. ‘That’s all the paperwork for the time being. I’ve stowed a lot of stuff in a garden shed. She caught me at it said she’d set light to it later on, but I told her it would be difficult to get a fire in the back garden under control because the houses are so close together you couldn’t get the fire engines anywhere near it.’

  Piers, chuckling, got into his car and drove off.

  Bea put her arm through Oliver’s. ‘Thank you, Oliver. You’ve been so clever. Maggie’s keeping some supper for you.’

  ‘I’ll go back if there’s nothing else I can do, but if you want me to stay, I will. Mrs Weston’s like a hamster on speed. Surely her battery will run down soon.’

  ‘Did you get her to eat or drink?’

  He shook his head. ‘Made a pot of tea, found the biscuits. She wouldn’t look at them.’

  They walked up the path to the door, and Oliver let them in. ‘I’ve been using the spare set of keys that was in the little cupboard, the one with the alarm pad in it. You’d better have them now. I’ve deactivated the alarm for the time being, because we’ve been in and out all the time. Something occurred to me … can you spare a minute before I go?’

  ‘I’ll just check on her and get back to you.’

  Bea could hear someone talking on the phone as she went down the hall. Velma was in the study, a large room with a bay window which was both library and study. She was sitting in a circle of light thrown by a desk lamp, at an old-fashioned desk. On seeing Bea, she clapped her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone long enough to say, ‘Cancelling his credit cards.’

  Bea nodded, and left her to it. She found Oliver in the kitchen, switching on more lights. Oliver was looking thoughtful. ‘It may be important or it may not. I’ve been thinking about the amount of stuff that was removed from Charlotte’s flat. Look how much time and effort it’s taken to cart away Sandy’s stuff from here. Two car loads full, plus all the sports gear that I’ve put in the shed. Now I suppose Zander and Liam didn’t have as much as Mr Weston, but … how did it all get spirited away from the flat?’

  Bea tried to concentrate, and failed. She shrugged.

  ‘Look,’ said Oliver, seizing a ‘To Do’ slate off the wall, and taking it to the table. ‘Let’s make it simple. Did Philip have a car to take away his stuff in? No. Philip was skint, didn’t own a car. Did Liam or Zander have cars? No, apparently not. Liam hired the car which took the girls over to Belgium. Lots of people who live in Kensington manage without cars because public transport is good, cars are expensive to run and there’s nowhere to park.

  ‘Now we know Zander’s been in hospital since early Monday. He didn’t clear his own room; presumably Liam was doing it on Sunday night and Monday morning, which made him late for getting on to the train. Liam’s room was also emptied by the time the Green Girls went in to clean on Tuesday morning. So … where did Liam put everything? You saw the two rooms before they were cleared, didn’t you? How much was there to get rid of?’

  She thought back. ‘People who live in rented flats usually accumulate more than they bring in at the start. Liam had a couple of big suitcases in his wardrobe, and that’s all. I imagine his belongings might well have gone into the two cases, possibly with a couple of big plastic bin bags as well. That’s taking into account that he discarded a lot of things which were picked up later by the Green Girls. I don’t know if he’d have managed his telly as well. It wasn’t very big, a po
rtable, newish, and it’s gone.’ She thought about it. ‘Yes, it would have been quite a lot to cart away, but if he’d dumped the telly somewhere, he could have got it all into one taxi.’

  ‘What about Zander?’

  ‘He had much more in his room. For luggage all he had was a suitcase and a sports bag. When I saw his room early on Monday, someone had started to pack up his clothes but hadn’t by any means got it all in. In addition, there was a flat-screen TV, a sound system, laptop, a camera and a stack of books. Also a briefcase. You’d need three or maybe four large cardboard boxes to pack all that in. Maybe more.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Now this evening I’ve been going up and down the stairs and to and from the garden like a demented yoyo. How many trips would Liam have had to make to get rid of everything? Possibly two trips for himself – if we discount the telly. For Zander … seven, eight? Probably more. Each time he’d have to haul the stuff out of the flat to the lift, take it down to the ground floor, and then haul it out again into the lobby. And then what did he do with it? Put it into a couple of taxis and take it … where?

  Bea tried to think. ‘A self-storage place?’

  ‘It would have taken him hours. First he had to pack, and then take all those trips up and down in the lift, take two taxis, arrange to store the stuff and pay for it … and then get to St Pancras to catch the train. Did he have time to do all that before he got on to a Eurostar train in the early afternoon?’

  ‘No, he didn’t. That flat-screen TV, for instance. It’s far too big to cart around easily. We must ask Randolph if he saw Liam carting stuff away in a taxi or two.’

  Oliver was eager to explain. ‘There’s another possibility. Look, we know that there is accommodation for five people living in Charlotte’s flat, and five people in the flat above. Charlotte even told us that somebody from the flats might be linked to the crimes we’re investigating, which is something we need to tell the police about tomorrow.’

  ‘Or the flat next door.’

  ‘True. But I’m looking particularly at the top flat, because when we add up how many people are living there, we find a vacancy. Remember Charlotte said that two tenants in the flat above got married and moved out, but are still paying rent for one of their rooms because they left a lot of their stuff in store until they can get the builders out of their new place. Right? So there should be one room vacant in the flat directly above Charlotte. It has a lot of the married couple’s stuff in it, but perhaps there was also room for Zander’s plus, perhaps, Liam’s telly.’