Lucasta & Hector

by Hugh Canham

  ‘Now, now, Molly. Don’t get so angry. I can explain everything,’ said Melvin, backing away.

  ‘You bloody well can’t, and you won’t.’ At which Molly picked up the jug that had held the cider and hurled it at Melvin’s head. It missed, crashing against the Aga and falling to the floor in several pieces. ‘You said when you married me that you’d never sleep with another of your models. You said I was the perfect model and you’d never want a better, didn’t you? I know what you’ve been doing with that Aggie girl with the red hair. That’s why I burnt your paintings of her. You fool! Fancy calling in a detective!’

  Lucasta quietly slipped out of the kitchen and into the hall, where she immediately met Hector.

  ‘What on earth is happening?’ he said to the sound of further china breakages.

  ‘His wife is throwing things at him and has just confessed to burning the pictures because she was jealous of Aggie. I think our job is done. Goodness, I feel woozy!’ replied Lucasta.

  ‘Yes, so do I. Melvin told me to look round the house if I wanted to. Frankly, I went outside to get some fresh air.’

  ‘Well, it sounds as if she’s trying to kill him.’

  ‘Had we better try to intervene?’

  ‘No, let’s get out!’

  By the time they had checked out of the hotel, ordered a taxi and boarded the train heading for London they both felt a good deal better.

  ‘Remind me not to drink home-made cider again,’ said Hector, rubbing his face. ‘That’s enough alcohol to last me till Christmas. Such a simple solution to Melvin’s problem. Strange he couldn’t see it for himself, but I suppose the combination of the pot and the home-made cider numbs the thought processes. But you say his paintings were very good!’

  ‘Most good artists seem to be half-drunk most of the time!’

  ‘Ah, well!’ sighed Hector.

  And they then discussed for the second or third time the question of who really had stolen the Duchess’s statue and what whoever had stolen it intended to do with it. But they came to no conclusions about it all.

  Then Hector said, ‘I’m so sorry about the violence again this time, Lucasta. Quite unexpected. Duncan will be very cross with me for getting you into these scrapes. I suppose he’ll be home for Christmas?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him recently.’

  ‘Oh dear. Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. He phoned once shortly after he went away, but we were cut off after a minute or so and I haven’t heard from him since. I expect he’ll write. He said he’d been moving around. If he doesn’t come back I’ll just have to go home on my own for Christmas. It’s always terribly holy. Dad’s a clergyman, you see!’

  Lucasta did not tell Hector what Melvin had said to her that had first caused Molly’s fury. But she did raise the question again of going back to Norfolk to try and retrieve their things from Grimes’ pub.

  ‘Definitely not, Lucasta. Quieta non movere.’

  ‘But I left a very nice skirt and jumper there!’

  ‘Never mind. Buy some new ones with your share of the reward.’

  Thinking she must look up what Quieta non movere meant, she took the Tube back to her flat in Kensington, hoping there would be a letter from Duncan awaiting her. But there was nothing. She firmly decided she would not phone Duncan’s London office. She’d met Duncan’s best friend there several times and she was sure he would have contacted her if Duncan had met with an accident or anything like that. No, she would try to blank Duncan from her mind and go and spend Christmas as cheerfully as possible with her parents in their gloomy Victorian Gothic vicarage near Oxford.

  ‘Hello darling, Veronica’s here. So sorry Duncan’s still away. We should have liked him to join us for Christmas, you know,’ said her mother by way of greeting. ‘Your father’s very pleased with himself because, as I told you, he’s been made a canon of the cathedral and you will notice he now wears his new cassock with the purple piping all the time, except when he goes to bed.’

  Lucasta’s father was an Anglo-Catholic and on Christmas Eve Lucasta and her sister had to sit through a very lengthy Midnight Mass with a small orchestra, as well as another long, solemn Mass on Christmas morning. Canon Smith had been so busy since Lucasta had arrived on the afternoon of Christmas Eve that he only got round to speaking to her at the Christmas lunch table.

  ‘Pity your young man couldn’t join us. What’s his name again?’

  ‘Duncan, Dad. You met him – remember?’

  ‘Ah, yes. Tubby little fellow!’

  ‘That’s him!’

  But Lucasta’s sister Veronica was much more forthright.

  ‘Didn’t Duncan phone you before Christmas? I thought he was supposed to be back by now.’

  ‘Yes, he was. And no, he didn’t phone.’

  ‘Mmm. If you ask me, he’s found a little almond-eyed beauty to spend Christmas with in Hong Kong!’

  Lucasta felt a strange lurch in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘And how are things with you?’ she asked.

  ‘Wonderful. I’ve seduced my PhD supervisor. He’s about sixty but very virile. I’m also having an affair with a first-year undergraduate called Paul. He’s lovely. Got long hair and flared trousers. Very naïve and sweet.’

  ‘Do you really like that sort of thing?’

  ‘Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t do it. You ought to break out a bit, Lu. What’s this friend of Duncan’s that you’re working for like, by the way?’

  ‘Well, Duncan, as you know, is hardly trendy. No long hair or flared trousers for him. But Hector looks as though he’s stepped out of the 1950s, or even ‘40s! He’s a middle-aged bachelor solicitor; smokes cigars and goes to his club a great deal. But he’s all right when you get to know him a bit. No groping, thank goodness.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s queer!’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so!’

  Lucasta decided not to mention the art-theft investigations with Hector to either her parents or her sister. At Christmas and from the distance of her father’s gloomy vicarage they seemed somehow unreal.

  She left the vicarage as soon as she could on the day after Boxing Day and went back to St James’s Square on the 28th. She met Hector in the hall as she went in.

  ‘I hope your Christmas was not as bad as you expected!’ he said by way of greeting. ‘But would you please come into my office. I want to show you something that came in the post this morning.’

  Once they were in his office he handed her a bill which was headed ‘Hector Elroy, Art Theft Investigator’. It was addressed to Melvin Delany, Esq., who had sent it back. Across it he had scrawled in charcoal, ‘I’m not paying any of this. Thanks to your interference my wife is divorcing me and I shan’t have any money.’

  ‘Interference! There’s gratitude for you!’ said Hector. ‘However, let’s forget about that one and move on. I’m hopeful that we shall have some successful investigations in the new year, which is nearly upon us. Indeed, a new decade is approaching. I shan’t be here for the New Year celebrations as I have to go tomorrow to visit my old mother in the country. I propose that we have a bottle of my father’s best champagne together this evening after work. How about it?’

  ‘Hector, I’m sorry,’ said Lucasta. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided not to help you any more with your art theft investigations. I’m going to stick to what you employed me to do – sort out your father’s books.’

  ‘But why on earth, Lucasta? I’m sorry if we have encountered a bit of violence, but it will probably never happen again.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m not prepared to discuss it. I’ve made up my mind and that’s that!’

  After Lucasta had gone, Hector sat gloomily at his desk reading The Times, occasionally shaking his head and whistling through his teeth.

  ‘Odd of Lucasta to react like that,’ he said to himself. ‘Premenstrual tension I expect. She’ll probably come round!’

  3

  January 1970r />
  ‘How would you like a trip to New York?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘All free. First class too!’

  ‘I suppose to investigate some theft or other?’

  ‘Absolutely right! This American film star, name of Gloria something-or-other – never heard of her myself – phoned. She’s lost a small painting of a cherub. Very upset about it. Wants us to go and investigate.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, come on please, Lucasta, I may need your help.’

  ‘After our last so-called investigation, as I have told you, I have resolved only to do what I was employed to do – sort out your father’s books.’

  Hector’s face, which had been beaming at the thought of a trip to New York with Lucasta, fell.

  ‘I see. Very well then. I shall have to go on my own. But would you do one small thing for me, please? If anyone telephones Jolly wanting my art-investigating services as opposed to my legal ones, may I ask him to put them on to you? All you have to do is to tell them I’m away on a case in New York. Take the particulars and say we’ll deal with it as soon as I get back.’

  ‘We’ll?’

  ‘Oh, all right. I’ll deal with it!’

  And Hector, still clearly excited by the prospect of New York, left Lucasta to the books in the library. It was coffee-time, she decided, so sat down and poured herself a cup from the flask she brought with her every day. It was black, sweet and strong. She fumbled in her handbag and found the Christmas card she’d received from Duncan in Hong Kong that morning. It was a lurid red colour with an embossed gold pagoda in the middle.

  Hope this reaches you in time.

  All my love and a very Happy Christmas.

  Well, it was a nice thought, even if it was a bit late. She peered at the postmark on the envelope, but there seemed to be no real clue as to when it had been posted.

  Five days later, Lucasta was sitting having her morning coffee again thinking about Duncan, and particularly the letter she had received from him that morning, when the telephone on the wall of the library rang and Jolly announced that Mr Hector wished to speak to her and that he was calling from America.

  ‘Look, Lucasta, I’ve got a problem and you must help me. I traced the stolen picture easily and I’m having a “real great time”, as they would put it here, but the picture got damaged and it looks as if there’s another painting underneath. Gloria wants me to get an expert to look at it and see what the underpainting is. I haven’t a clue who to go to. I thought you might know. . .’

  Lucasta sighed. She seemed to be sighing a great deal these days. ‘Mm, what date would you give to the cherub picture?’

  ‘It looks – er – old, maybe seventeenth century. Not too sure.’

  ‘Didn’t this Gloria tell you who it was by?’

  ‘Well, no signature you see. But a nice little picture.’

  ‘I see.’ Lucasta sighed again. ‘So, if you are right with your dating, the underpicture will not be later than the 1600s. There is one man in New York I’ve heard of, but I don’t know him. Shall I give you his name? You’ll have to look up his address.’

  ‘New York? But we’ve moved on to LA. Gloria wanted to discuss a film script with a producer. You don’t know anyone in LA, I suppose?’

  ‘You do get around, don’t you! No, I don’t know anyone in LA!’

  ‘Pity. Gloria would like a very quick opinion. She’s very excited about it you see.’

  ‘Well I don’t know anyone in LA. I do know a man in London though.’

  ‘Can I sell him to Gloria as the real expert?’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’

  So Lucasta gave his name and address.

  ‘Excellent!’ said Hector. ‘I’ll let you know what she says. I suppose I could bring the picture back with me – it’s only very small.’

  ‘You might. I think there may be difficulties at the airport, though, if they find it in your luggage.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see. Anyhow, I may not be back for a few days. Jolly says there’s nothing urgent and I assume you’ve had no enquiries. I’m rather enjoying myself as a matter of fact. I’m promised a tour of a film studio tomorrow.’

  Lucasta sighed again. ‘Well, have a good time. I’ll still be here when you get back I expect.’

  Lucasta put the phone back on its rest and went and sat down. She had that morning discovered three large cupboards at the end of the library which she’d not been able to reach before because of the books stacked on the floor in front of them. Each of the cupboards was piled high with yet more books. And these books seemed to be the most valuable. Some of them were very old and she would have to do some research before she sold them. And then in her handbag was the letter from Duncan. She knew the contents by heart.

  Dearest Lucasta, I’m sorry to have to write you this letter. One of the girls working with me on the project is Wang Li. She’s a very lovely person and I’m sure you’d like her if you met her. In the run-up to Christmas and over the holiday we have become ‘very close’ as they say. In the circumstances, if you want to call off our engagement I shall fully understand. I wanted to be honest with you. Duncan. I still love you.

  Lucasta always took her engagement ring off while sorting the books. Now she took the small box in which she kept it out of the zip-up compartment in her handbag and looked at the ring. It was a single large diamond and she remembered how pleased she’d been when Duncan had given it to her. But as she looked at it in its little velvet-lined box, a strange feeling of suffocation came over her. She really couldn’t stay in the library any longer. She took off her plastic hat and put her big overcoat over her boiler suit and ran down the stairs and out into the square. The gardens in the middle were for once unlocked. Although it was freezing cold, she went into them and sat on a bench and breathed in the cold air deeply. She gradually felt better. Then she realised that she was still holding the box with the ring in it.

  ‘Bah!’ she said. ‘Let him rot in Hong Kong!’ And she hurled the box into the litter bin beside the seat. She felt even better after doing that and five minutes later was walking purposefully back up Hector’s front steps. A man strangely dressed in an old green duffle coat and wearing a battered brown trilby hat was standing in the hall.

  ‘Ah,’ he said as Lucasta came through the door. ‘I rang the bell but nobody seemed to be about. . . Good Lord, it’s Lucasta, isn’t it?’

  Then he took off his hat to reveal his prematurely bald head with long whiffs of red hair over his ears and down his neck.

  ‘Derek! I haven’t seen you for ages, but you’re just as scruffy as ever. How’s the art dealing going?’

  ‘Very slow at the moment. As far as I’m concerned there’s been a recession on ever since I started dealing three years ago! But how are you? Waspish and lovely as ever, I see. And what are you doing here?’

  ‘I have a temporary job.’

  ‘Painting murals?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Derek. If you really must know, sorting out some books. And what are you doing here?’

  ‘Hoping to see a chap called Hector Elroy.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Oh, just a problem I have.’

  ‘About a picture?’

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘Where did you get his name from?’

  ‘I saw an advert.’

  ‘It’s unbelievable!’ said Lucasta.

  ‘Why is it unbelievable?’

  ‘Ah well, never mind,’ said Lucasta, sighing. ‘Anyhow, you can’t see Hector at the moment as he’s in New York and Los Angeles hunting for missing pictures.’

  ‘I gather he’s a solicitor, too. How on earth does he find time for it all?’

  ‘Oh, he’s a very brilliant man!’ replied Lucasta without any hint of irony in her voice. ‘But I have been known to help him a bit – sometimes.’

  ‘Well look, could you maybe come over to my flat so I can give you more details about the problem?’

  ‘Um, well, I suppose s
o, yes, seeing as we’re old friends and provided it’s not too far away.’

  Silently Lucasta thought that at least it would be a break from the dusty books and would take her mind off Duncan’s letter.

  ‘My flat’s in Pimlico and my car’s parked out there in the square.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll just tell Hector’s clerk where I’m going.’

  It was only after Lucasta had divested herself of her boiler suit, had had a quick wash and had put on her skirt and jumper, and after Derek had mentioned that the picture in question was probably worth a lot of money, that it dawned on her that she had been foolish in throwing away her engagement ring. Duncan had told her that she ought to insure it as it had cost quite a bit. Of course she hadn’t and it had probably cost hundreds and it belonged to her – so she ought to have hung on to it, she now realised. They were seated in Derek’s dilapidated sports car by the time she came to the decision that she must retrieve her ring from the litter bin.

  ‘Derek, wait here – or better still, come and help me. I know that it sounds silly, but I’ve thrown my engagement ring into a litter bin in the gardens and I think I was stupid. Because, like your picture, it’s probably worth a lot of money!’

  ‘I’ll help of course! Oh Lord – here comes a traffic warden and I’m running out of time. I’ll have to talk to him. You go on. Which side of the gardens?’

  ‘The litter bin by the seat in the corner over there.’

  But as Lucasta entered the gardens, her heart started pounding. She could see a workman emptying the litter bins into a litter barrow. She raced to the bin by the seat. Empty! She ran over to the workman and his barrow.

  ‘Excuse me, but I put something in that bin over there which I shouldn’t have done. Could you please look in your barrow and try and find it?’

  ‘Sorry luv, against regulations.’

  ‘But it’s a ring. Rather valuable.’

  ‘Well you’ll never find a ring in this lot. Twenty-five bins in here already!’

  ‘But please, I must!’

  ‘Never find it, luv.’

  ‘But it’s in a box.’

  ‘Big box?’