by Alp Mortal
Hannah as Valerie set to and tuned the Nightingale where it sat on the stage. As it approached lunch, the stagehands made their way to grab a bite and Hannah effected the swap - not without a great deal of effort and a thimble full of sweat but she did it, and had hers in position. And just as she hoped, the electrical cable was pretty much hidden and there was an adjacent floor-mounted socket. She played the piece to ensure nothing had gotten damaged in the transfer. All was well, and the sound, compared to the original, which she had just tuned and played, was probably ninety percent there or thereabouts.
She moved the Nightingale in the trolley to a dark corner of the backstage area and threw a tarpaulin over it, and then she left.
In the afternoon, she packed and had her two smart cases ready by the door. In the late afternoon and early evening, she got ready for the gala and then went, as arranged, to Dominic’s house, so that they could all travel together. Charles had even bought her a corsage. Once at the venue, she and Dominic practiced the all-important piece.
“Why are we playing yours and not Mrs. Colton’s?” he asked.
“I think she sold it,” said Hannah, “Don’t mention anything; she isn’t very well.”
Dominic, believing he was on the inside track for a change, just winked.
There was a gathering of the great and the good beforehand, ostensibly so that everyone who believed they were somebody could be seen to make their donation, and then everyone took their seats and the evening commenced.
Hannah and Dominic made their entrance onto the stage and they bowed before taking their positions for the eagerly anticipated duet. Francine and Charles beamed and clapped enthusiastically whilst Loretta just lapped it up; David was nowhere to be seen. They performed the duet and one supposes because of the occasion and maybe due to the long hours of practising, the piece was received very well. Being as it was Hannah’s first original composition, she really dove into it, and Dominic responded and didn’t falter once. They received a standing ovation and Hannah played a further piece, solo, as an encore; one of Loretta’s favorites.
In the interval, both musicians were in demand and eventually Loretta made it to Hannah’s side.
“My dear, that was splendid; young Dominic really has come on under your tutelage. I’m almost positive we will tour once I get back from my vision quest.”
“When are you leaving, Loretta?”
“Tomorrow; we’re gathering at sunset.”
“I shan’t see you again,” Hannah said with a few tears.
“Oh, don’t worry; we’ll meet again … Have fun and don’t stop playing!”
“Take care, Loretta; I’m sure everything will work out.”
“I know it will.”
The evening drew to a close and Francine and Charles invited Hannah back to the house;
“That’s very kind but I have a date, finally!”
“Is he here?” asked Francine, buzzing with anticipation.
“No; he was working this evening; we’re meeting for a late supper.”
“But if you’re leaving, Valerie, what will come of it?”
“He wants to travel, and we’ll meet in Europe.”
“How romantic!”
Everyone left, and not long afterwards, Hannah was able to effect the switch back, leaving the true Nightingale on the stage to be picked up in the morning by the removal firm; to whom Hannah, as Loretta, had spoken, changing the delivery address from the house to the shop with specific orders that it should be delivered at noon. As far as Loretta was concerned, it was being delivered to the house and her housekeeper would be there to receive it. Hannah took the synthesizer home.
The following morning, she dressed as Loretta and went to the shop to make the rendezvous with the delivery of the harpsichord. The owner was a little bewildered to say the least.
“You’re selling it, Mrs. Colton?”
“It reminds me too much of David.”
“I have a buyer willing to pay one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“I’ll take it if I can have payment today.”
“As it happens, you can.”
“Excellent!”
Hannah, as Loretta, took the bond and left the Nightingale in the shop but she needed someone other than the shop owner to see her there so that there was at least one independent witness to the sale; Francine came in at the appointed time.
“Loretta!”
“Darling! Can’t stop, my “vision” awaits me and it doesn’t feature the Nightingale, so I’ve sold it.”
“Loretta, surely not!”
“The money will fund the tour - must run, darling. Why are you here?”
“The owner called to say that they had a thimble I might be interested in.”
“Goodbye, darling, see you in a month.”
Hannah left and grabbed a cab as soon as she could, leaving Francine in a bit of a whirl and when she approached the owner to see the thimble, he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
Hannah made it to the flat and changed quickly, and then went to Francine’s house to stay the evening because they all left the following day.
Francine got back and told Hannah what had happened at the antique shop.
“She looked so fresh, and I swear years have dropped off of her.”
“She’s becoming a new woman,” said Hannah.
Hannah stayed the evening and in the morning, they went to the airport. She and Dominic, with two of his friends and one of the dads, left for Houston while Charles and Francine went to Mexico. After the launch, she put Dominic on his flight to Mexico as arranged and then flew back to San Francisco. Dressed as Loretta, she went round to Francine’s house and let herself in, found the key for the display case in the jewellery box and swapped over the thimbles.
As she left, she made sure that at least one of the neighbors saw her, to whom she waved. Back at the apartment, she waited for the removal firm to pick up her empty, restored harpsichord casing and take it to Loretta’s, where the housekeeper took it in and parked it in the small lounge. Hannah then took the synthesizer to one of the better secondhand stores and sold it.
Back at the apartment, she changed back into Hannah and left, taking a cab to the airport from where she flew to New York and thence to London, taking up residence in a small mews house in Chelsea, all under the name of Virginia Musgrave.
Epilogue
Nothing, Stateside, happened for about three weeks and the first thing that happened was when Francine went to clean her treasured collection of thimbles for the first time since getting back from Mexico. The shock took a week to get over, and of course, she informed the police, who did their routine enquiries, during which, they happened to speak to the neighbor who had seen Hannah, dressed as Loretta, leave the property that day.
“I’ll speak to her,” she said to the detective, “She’s not been well.”
Francine didn’t know how to broach the subject, so didn’t and for a considerable time thereafter, the subject of thimbles was taboo!
When Loretta got back she couldn’t wait to get the harpsichord out of the travel trolley; momentarily troubled because she didn’t remember having a case for it but decided it was a good idea anyway. When the travel trolley was opened, she stood admiring her beloved Nightingale. The butler-type took the harpsichord out of the case and sat it down for her. She lifted the lid and once the fact that the case was minus its innards registered, she actually fainted. The police did visit the antique shop and were told, with some measure of satisfaction by the owner, that Loretta herself had sold it to him; a fact that could be verified by Mrs. Francine Eagleton. A fact which was verified, and after that, Loretta went straight back to the Mojave Desert.
Fitzwilliam’s confirmed that the case which stood in Loretta’s parlor had been restored by them, for Frau Anna Bohm; and there the trail led nowhere for there was no record of her anywhere and no one by that name had left on a flight in the period since.
Dominic added
two and two together, being a bright lad, but seeing as he’d witnessed the launch of the Columbia and got to build his beloved computer, he reckoned that they were a fair trade for keeping his mouth tight shut; nor did he have to tour with Loretta and that guaranteed his silence.
Crime Six - Rivals
Chapter One – The Quarrel
Hannah sat and meditated; she blamed it on the slight guilt trip she was having for pushing Loretta a little too far over the edge with the masquerade in San Francisco. Then again, Loretta could always blame David and his antics if a scapegoat was required. Posing as Loretta to sell the harpsichord and avoid the dangerous handover had worked beautifully, and in fact, no ‘crime’ had been committed; the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars made a handsome addition to her pension fund. The identities of Valerie Bishop and Anna Bohm had also remained intact. She had the thimble, and stealing that from Francine was a bonus; it had been opportunistic and wholly personal. She had no intention of selling the thimble; quite the opposite, she was sure that the thimble must be part of a ‘necessaire de couture’, and fully intended to find the other pieces along with the case. But that was an aside to the main act which she now contemplated.
As soon as she’d arrived in London, she had contacted Boehme, and he’d been absolutely delighted to hear from her; less so when she had asked him for a referral. The secrets that she still held onto, which kept him in her vice-like grip, persuaded him to let her have a name.
“Forbes Darlington; he is a collector; nothing stands in his way when he decides that he wants something … and he wants the ‘Medici Quartet’…”
“Does he? Well; I shall get it for him.”
“Please be careful; he isn’t dangerous like Manuel but dangerous nevertheless, and he has a very long reach.”
“Have no fear; and after this, perhaps we should meet and I’ll give you back the evidence I stole from your receptionist’s desk that day.”
“The pleasure of seeing you would be enough, mademoiselle.”
“Until then …”
“A serious collector after the fabled ‘Medici Quartet’; but how much does he want it?” Hannah mused.
The ‘Medici Quartet’ was a painting of, needless to say, four musicians. It had been painted for Elizabeth the First, who had gifted it to a noble family whose remnants still resided in Kent, in the Tudor manor house on the outskirts of Chilham - blood so blue, you could dip your quill in it.
The painting was priceless due to its provenance and age, and during the summer, the family opened its doors and welcomed the hordes in, demanding a princely sum to see the painting and various other heirlooms.
“A smash and grab over the cucumber sandwiches and Earl Grey? No; something more subtle …”
Step one was to contact the collector - Forbes Darlington - to see just how much he wanted it. Hannah donned the cloak of disguise; in this case, Virginia Musgrave, an art historian, and a gallery owner. She’d rented a tidy little shop on the Kings Road and planned to open a gallery. Why go to the bother of breaking into people’s houses and stealing their art when they were willing to bring it to you?
Spending one hundred thousand pounds very judiciously on Elizabethan art, having tracked Forbes’ recent purchases, Hannah had detected a shift in his collecting habits towards music related subjects. She’d outbid him on one particular lot, and it formed the centerpiece of the exhibition that she put on for the opening of the gallery. On the day of the opening, a well-dressed man came in, and she knew he must be Forbes’ agent.
“The ‘Quarrel’…” was all he said.
“An excellent example of his work; recently sold at auction for twice the reserve. I believe Forbes Darlington was interested …”
“I believe so … I have a client who is very interested in acquiring it.”
“It is not for sale-”
“Oh!”
“The owner very graciously donated it for the purposes of the exhibition …”
“Are you sure they could not be persuaded to reconsider?”
“Of course, that’s possible, but it is merely a week since the sale, so hardly likely - I could ask. After the exhibition, it is traveling to Kent to be included in the annual Fotherington Show; the subject being sympathetic to the ‘Quartet’, and it is believed that ‘The Quarrel’ was painted as a kind of homage to the great piece. It will be the first time they have been seen together …”
“Yes; the connection is well documented. Sadly my client is unable to attend the show this year.”
“That is a pity.”
“If you would ask the owner to reconsider, my client is extremely keen to acquire the piece.”
“I will ask, but I doubt anything will change until after the show and it is possible that the painting will remain there as part of the permanent display.”
“Please ask.”
“I will. Is there anything else your client is interested in? ‘The Maplin’ for example?”
“He has ‘The King’s Men’, so not likely.”
This was the slip that Hannah had been waiting for.
“So your client is Forbes Darlington …”
The man coloured and fumbled for an escape route, which Hannah provided.
“I own ‘The Quarrel’, and if Forbes is that interested then he need only call in himself and I would be prepared to discuss terms.”
“He doesn’t usually deal directly.”
“I always do … and if he is going to miss the show at Fotherington then perhaps that will provide the added incentive.”
“I’ll be in touch Ms.?”
“Virginia Musgrave …”
He left and Hannah felt very pleased with her performance.
Chapter Two – Forbes Darlington
Hannah estimated that it would be about a week before Forbes would be in touch. She opened the gallery each day and waited patiently. Ten days after the first visit, his agent re-appeared at three o’clock in the afternoon.
“Ms. Musgrave.”
“Alistair.”
“Forbes will deal direct but he insists that you visit him at his home.”
“When?”
“This Saturday, he has invited you to dine, should you be free.”
“I would be delighted to accept the invitation, and I shall bring ‘The Quarrel’ with me; what time?”
“Seven o’clock; his driver can collect you.”
“Call it independence or just capriciousness, but I will make my own way there. Please pass on my thanks to Forbes.”
“Good day, Ms. Musgrave.”
“Goodbye, Alistair.”
“Bingo!” Hannah allowed herself a rare moment of self-congratulation. “Forbes is not only an avaricious collector but a recluse, tucked up in his pile in Tadworth, sending forth minions like Alistair to get their hands grubby on his behalf. A personal invitation to dine with him; he is obviously serious and maybe more than a little curious about me …”
At the appointed time, Hannah arrived at the gates of the house in Tadworth - ‘Rosebriars’ - and within thirty seconds, the gates opened automatically. She drove up to the house over the pristine gravel. She had rented a Jaguar XK150 drop head coupe. A business had opened in Chelsea renting out exotic sports cars; the car looked the part and it had been relatively inexpensive. Alistair came out to greet her.
“Ms. Musgrave …”
“Please call me Virginia …”
“Virginia … Forbes is so pleased you could make it. Did you bring the painting?”
“Of course …”
Hannah retrieved the painting from the boot of the car, and they went into what Hannah could only describe as The Victoria and Albert Museum, but all of the artwork was Elizabethan and some of it was much earlier.
“I never knew Forbes had such a thing for the Golden Era,” Hannah said as they passed through the hall into the main salon.
“He sees it as his duty to preserve the art of the period for future generations …”
&
nbsp; “Does he still have the Hapsworth miniature?”
“I most certainly do!” came the shrill reply from behind them, and both turned to see Forbes standing at the foot of the stairs; a ‘Kenneth Williams’ character dressed for dinner, sporting a dickie bow. “Ms. Musgrave; the pleasure is all mine …” he added and stepped forward except that he did not hold out his hand for hers.
“Please call me Virginia; as promised I brought ‘The Quarrel’-”
“Later; sherry?”
“Thank you …”
Alistair hovered while a butler served the drinks.
“Alistair; be a good chap and fetch the miniature for Virginia to see.” Turning to Hannah, he said, “I haven’t shown the Hapsworth miniature to anyone for more than twenty years.”
“I’m honoured that you should choose me.”
“You brought the painting … I do hope we can agree on terms.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” said Hannah just as Alistair brought in the miniature for her to see. It was kept in a Morrocco leather case which Alistair set down on the table. Forbes retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked it, lifting the lid to reveal the miniature of Elizabeth the First that had been painted in her coronation year and in which she was dressed in the royal regalia.
“No one knows who painted it. It turned up when Henry sold Hapsworth to pay his father’s death duties; I stepped in to avoid seeing it go East … that was thirty years ago now.”
Hannah was leaning over the box and peering at the portrait of the young queen. Even in a painting of that size, the eyes appeared to gaze back at her.
“Mesmerizing,” she breathed, “Thank you; this is a rare treat and one I won’t forget for a very long time.”
Shortly after that, the box was locked up and Alistair took it away.
“It’ll probably be another twenty years before it sees the light of day again … So; shall we eat?”
“Yes,” smiled Hannah, feeling uncommonly relaxed.
They entered the dining room. The table was set just for two, Alistair didn’t return.
“Why did you outbid me for ‘The Quarrel’?”
“To see how much you wanted it.”
“I want it very much.”
“It’s going to the Fotherington Show next week.”
“Name your price and leave it here tonight.”
“I have a better offer for you.”
“Young lady; there can be no better offer.”
