Lucasta & Hector
Page 1
About the author
Hugh Canham has had two fulfilling careers: his first was as a solicitor with a central London law firm, where he became Managing Partner and briefly Chairman, during a period of great expansion when the firm had offices in Hong Kong, Los Angeles and Singapore. In the 1980s he switched his attentions to running a small farm in East Sussex and an antiques shop and gallery in Cranbrook in Kent with his wife. Hugh is the author of The New Leaf, published by Book Guild Publishing in 2014, and also several short stories. He now lives in London.
By the same author
The New Leaf, Book Guild Publishing 2014
LUCASTA
AND
HECTOR
Hugh Canham
Book Guild Publishing
Sussex, England
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by
The Book Guild Ltd
The Werks
45 Church Road
Hove, BN3 2BE
Copyright © Hugh Canham 2015
An earlier version of chapter 1 of Lucasta and Hector was published as a short story in Quadrant magazine in 2003.
The right of Hugh Canham to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
Typesetting in Baskerville by Ellipsis Digital Ltd, Glasgow
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
A catalogue record for this book is available from The British Library.
ISBN 978 1 910298 53 4
ePub ISBN - 978 1 910508 44 2
Mobi ISBN - 978 1 910508 45 9
Contents
1October 1969
2December 1969
3January 1970
4February 1970
5April 1970
6April 1970 Continued
7April 1970 Continued
8September/October 1970
1
October 1969
‘Hello, I’m Lucasta – I’ve come to sort out your books.’
The man in the heavy pinstriped suit looked puzzled. He peered through his thick glasses at the woman standing on his doorstep and then looked past her at the plane trees in the square as though the sight of their yellowing leaves might help him.
‘You know, your father’s books.’
‘Ah! Of course! That sort of books. I thought you might be something to do with my accountants. Mind on the wrong track, you see. Come in, come in.’
He waved Lucasta past him into the splendid hall of the building. About 1780, Lucasta judged.
‘This way, through the back. The books are in the library. Bit of a mess, I think you may find.’
The library must have originally been the room for entertaining in the house. Lucasta immediately imagined a line of ladies and gentlemen in eighteenth-century costume dancing a gavotte or whatever it was they did then. But this was only a passing fantasy. The reality was that the room, which was very large, had been lined out with mahogany bookshelves on three sides to house an extensive law library that seemed, at first glance, to contain old law reports, modern law reports, Hansard volumes, encyclopaedias and textbooks, but it was all in considerable disarray, with many of the books lying open in untidy piles on the library table in the centre of the room as though someone had been searching for the answer to some obscure legal point, never found the answer and given up in despair.
At the end of the room she could see a carved mantelpiece and above it a large oil painting of a bewigged gentleman, presumably a judge, who seemed to be glaring at the mess on the library table. Underneath the portrait, completely obscuring the fireplace, were yet more mountains of books, piled high and falling about. These mountains continued in decreasing height for several yards until they became mere foothills as they reached the library table. And along the sides of the room were further piles of books, through which a pathway had been left to gain access to the bookshelves and the table.
‘Goodness!’ said Lucasta.
‘Yes,’ replied Hector, raising his eyebrows slightly. ‘As you know, I should like you please to sort them out thoroughly. The law books should be put in order on the shelves, and the rest should be stacked subject by subject and probably sold. As Duncan no doubt told you, I’m hoping that there might be valuable stuff in this lot, particularly among the art books.’
‘I’ll make a start then,’ said Lucasta. ‘I’m glad I brought an overall – the books look rather dusty.’
‘Quite so. Er, if you want anything I shall be in my office, off the hallway on the right.’
Lucasta put on her overall and then her glasses, and, taking a cursory look at the books, regretted she had taken the job. It had been Duncan, her fiancé, who had suggested it.
‘I have to go to Hong Kong on business for two months, darling,’ he had said one day out of the blue. ‘I feel you may be bored while I’m away, so I wondered if you would like to take this temporary job I’ve heard about. It’s for this friend of mine – I think you may have met him once at a party, a fishing pal of mine called Hector. He’s just inherited his father’s law practice somewhere off St. James’s. It used to be a wonderful practice, wills and trusts for the gentry. Hector qualified as a solicitor with his father years ago, but then went off and joined a big firm in Lincoln’s Inn. Never had to work very hard; I think he was just a salaried partner – spent a lot of his time fishing and shooting and looking at old churches. Anyway, his father had gone a bit ga-ga towards the end, it seems, and left everything in a bit of a mess, including his law library and a large collection of books – a lot of books on art, apparently. Hector asked me if I knew anyone who could help. Of course, I thought you would be ideal, what with your experience as a librarian and your art history degree. You’ll be quite safe with Hector – he’s more interested in himself than in sex.’
Duncan had beamed and chortled and puffed out his cigar smoke contentedly, and Lucasta thought that he could be a bit annoying at times. However, the next morning she had phoned Hector and arranged to take the job.
Lucasta was 28. People referred to her as ‘a nice-looking girl’. She was small and thin with dark brown straight hair. She also had beautiful legs and a very large bosom which she was rather self-conscious about.
She started looking through the pile of books nearest to her. On the top and very dusty was a 1958 Chancery law report; next to it was what appeared to be a first edition of a novel by Kingsley Amis, then a copy of The Nude by Kenneth Clark, and finally two volumes of Bénézit – the dictionary of painters. There did not appear to be a paperback among them, as far as she could see. What a jumble! But she felt she simply couldn’t start sorting the books without dusting them as she went along, and for that she’d need a large supply of dusters.
She walked down the hall and knocked tentatively on Hector’s office door. Like the whole building, it was rather grand and intimidating. On hearing him call out ‘Come in’, she opened the door to find Hector seated behind a very large antique desk, reading The Times. A small fire was burning in the grate. There was a smell of tobacco.
‘Ah, you’ve found something valuable already?’
‘No, it’s something much more prosaic. I’m going to need some dusters – the books are filthy.’
But as his hand reached for an antiquated-looking intercom, his phone rang.
‘Hector Elroy speaking . . . Yes, Your Grace . . . Yes, my father died three months ago and I have taken over his practice . . . An art theft? Of course, I will do anything to help. We have never met, but I knew the late Duke very well when I was young. I used to fish with him over a few days in the spring and again in the autumn . . . Of course, I can see you in half an hour.’
What a very large man Hector is, thought Lucasta, as he rose from behind his desk. He was obviously excited by his phone conversation and had forgotten all about the dusters.
‘That,’ he said, ‘was the Duchess of Mercia. Wonderful that some of the old clients are still coming to the practice. My father had, as you will have gathered from the state of the books, let things go to the dogs. In fact, if it hadn’t been for old Jolly keeping the trust accounts and things ticking over, I wonder what would have happened. As it is, I’m surprised the old man wasn’t reported to the Law Society. I have inherited from him the lease of this wonderful house – which is where I now live – together with a run-down legal practice, not much money and an awful mess.’
Lucasta stood there not knowing quite what to say.
‘However,’ Hector continued, ‘there’s no time to lose. An art theft! An art theft! I know very little about art, but Duncan said you had a degree in art history. I think we should make you the practice’s art expert, if you’re in agreement. But why, I wonder, has the Duchess not gone to the police?’
Twenty minutes later the Duchess was shown into Hector’s office by Jolly. Lucasta, feeling she had better go along with Hector’s suggestion, had changed out of her overalls, washed her hands and – somewhat reluctantly, because Hector had asked her to ‘smarten herself up a bit’ – applied some lipstick and eye makeup. She sat in an armchair that Hector had positioned for her at the side of his desk.
The Duchess was probably not more than 50. She was dressed in a very elegant tweed suit and a short fur coat and appeared very nervous.
‘Mr Elroy, I’m so pleased you could see me at such short notice,’ she began, then, looking slightly flushed, said, ‘Excuse me, I feel so warm in London after Scotland; do you mind?’ At which she removed her fur coat and dropped it negligently on the floor. She then lit a cigarette and drew on it heavily. ‘I am very, very worried, Mr Elroy. I don’t know what to do.’
Hector adopted a Sherlock Holmes posture behind his desk, placed his hands together and said, ‘Please just tell me what happened from the beginning. You told me it concerned an art theft, which is why I have asked my art expert, Lucasta Smith, to be present. You may speak quite freely in front of her and rely on her absolute discretion.’
The Duchess bowed her head graciously towards Lucasta and recounted the events leading to the theft.
‘The grounds of our estate are, as you know, wild rather than formal, and decorated here and there with some fine statues dating from the nineteenth century. I have always loved contemporary art and constantly told the Duke we should have something more modern. Well, I was delighted when he bought me for our silver wedding a Henry Moore. Here is a photograph of it. It’s a mother and child and very fine. I had it placed on a plinth on our top lawn not far from the house, within view of our bedroom window. The Duke left its siting entirely to me as it was a present, but he did stipulate that it was essential that it be securely fixed to the ground, the statue to the plinth and the plinth to the earth with spikes set in concrete, like all the other statues have been, otherwise the insurance he was arranging would be invalid.
‘Our wedding anniversary was just after Easter and since then I have failed to have the fixing work done. On Sunday morning – that was yesterday, wasn’t it? – I was horrified when I got up to find the statue missing from its plinth. Fortunately, the Duke is away until Wednesday night, but I am really terrified what he will say when he finds the statue gone. It undoubtedly cost a great deal and I’m afraid the Duke has a terrible temper. Things he refers to as “inefficiency” – he used to be in the Army, you know – particularly enrage him. I have not gone to the police about the theft because if they know, undoubtedly the Duke will have to know. I came down from Scotland on the night sleeper so as to see you as early in the morning as I could because your father was the only person I could think of who would have helped in a discreet way, so I hope you will do the same. Possibly you could arrange for a private detective or something? I’m prepared to offer a substantial reward if the statue can be recovered and in place again by the time the Duke returns. You see, I’m sure the only people who could have taken the statue were the members of a fishing party who fished our river last week. These fishing parties always stay at the inn in the village but have to drive through our grounds near to the house to get to the river. Here is a list of the names and addresses of last week’s party – they all have to sign the fishing book in the lodge for our ghillie who helps them fish. Four of the six names are very familiar to me – they come every year – but two are completely new. The ghillie said they were Germans and a bit odd – two men, possibly brothers. The man who leads the party has been coming for some years. He’s a bluff sort of man called Grimes who keeps a pub in Norfolk, and these two gave the pub as their address. It is only a surmise on my part, but I can’t imagine anyone local wanting a Henry Moore statue, and anyway they would have to bring a large vehicle into the grounds to take it away. The fishing party had Land Rovers, one with a German number plate. The statue would easily fit in the back of a Land Rover, although it is about three and a half feet high and very heavy.’
The Duchess stopped to light another cigarette. Hector pursed his lips as he looked at the list he’d been given.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I happen to know this pub in Norfolk – it’s by a river, a backwater of the Norfolk Broads. We could of course employ a private enquiry agent, but frankly I don’t know a good one. May I suggest that I go down to Norfolk this afternoon and see what I can find out, as time is of the essence? I can pose as a fishing enthusiast. That shouldn’t be difficult, as I actually am one.’
He permitted himself as much of a short laugh as he thought was appropriate to the seriousness of the occasion.
‘Mr Elroy, I am so grateful. I do hope that Miss Smith will go with you. I do so trust a woman’s intuition in these things.’
‘Of course she will, if you wish! But Your Grace, just one question. Is there any possibility that Mr Grimes or any of the others known to you could have stolen the statue?’
‘They have been coming for many years, Mr Elroy. I have no grounds to think them dishonest. I am sure it must be these Germans.’
‘And you said that nobody else had an opportunity to steal it?’
‘As I have said, one would need a large and sturdy vehicle. It must have been stolen sometime on Saturday evening. It was there, I know, on Saturday afternoon. We have a gatekeeper, and I enquired of him, but he says no other vehicles apart from those belonging to the fishing party passed in or out on Saturday.’
‘But he could have missed something or be lying.’
‘Both things are possible, but unlikely.’
‘Very well. All the evidence points to the Germans. We shall be on our way to Norfolk immediately after luncheon.’
Lucasta had been despatched off home by her new employer to get a quick lunch and pack a bag, and she was not really surprised when a little later he arrived to pick her up in a Rolls-Royce.
He had changed from his pinstripes into a checked tweed suit and drove in silence for most of the way to Norfolk as he said he wanted to think out what they should do and how they should do it. During the three-hour drive Lucasta therefore had the opportunity to study Hector in closer detail. His clothes looked a little crumpled over his large frame, but his shirt and tie were neat and clean. His hair was jet black and brushed straight b
ack. His complexion was dark and it looked as though he was the sort of man who ideally should shave twice a day. She couldn’t help but compare him with Duncan, who was short and small and hardly taller than she was, but always jovial, whereas Hector seemed very solemn and rather pompous.
When they were nearly at their destination he announced that he had a plan, and would like to discuss it with her. It was as follows:
They were to stay if possible at the pub kept by Mr Grimes. They must assume that he and the other members of the fishing party apart from the Germans were innocent of the theft and not implicated in any way. They were to find out the whereabouts of the two Germans. If they were still at the pub, she and Hector were to assume that the statue was still on the premises until proven otherwise. If the Germans had gone, they were to follow them, assuming Grimes knew where they had gone to.
Lucasta had to admit that she couldn’t think of any better way to proceed.
They booked into the pub. A German-registered Land Rover was in the car park, but it did not appear to be weighed down with a heavy load. Nor did the English-registered one. Hector quickly elicited from Mr Grimes that the German owners of the Land Rover were indeed the brothers who came to the pub from time to time for the fishing. Grimes happened to have two vacancies on his week’s salmon fishing party in Scotland and had asked them if they would care to join it. They were still staying at the pub as, on their way back from Scotland, they had started to fall ill with flu and had been in their room ever since. The doctor had been to see them.
From this information, Hector wildly surmised that the Germans were not brothers at all, but a pair of homosexual art dealers, and he was sure the statue must be hidden somewhere in or around the hotel. As it was very heavy and they were ill when they arrived, they must have concealed it somewhere rather than carried it up two flights of very steep and narrow stairs to their room, which was next to Hector’s. Hector was very excited about all of this, but Lucasta found it difficult not to feel depressed. Being dragged off in this bizarre expedition was not what she had been expecting when she had taken the job to sort out some books. Hector annoyed her by asking her repeatedly if she had any ‘intuitive feelings’, as the Duchess had suggested she might because she was a woman. Well, she hadn’t! She couldn’t see much of the river as it was getting dark when they arrived, but it looked very grey and slow moving. The view out of her window was of marshes from which a mist was rising. The bedroom itself was not too bad, but the place was definitely a pub and not an inn and the downstairs smelt of stale beer and cigarette smoke.