Old Cases New Colours (A Dudley Green Investigation) (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 9)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘And it’s going to be FAB when it’s finished.’

  Ena laughed again. ‘You’re getting very modern in your old age, Artie, but yes, I think it is going to be FAB.’

  ‘Where does this door lead?’ Artie pulled on it, it was locked.

  ‘The back yard.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘I don’t have a key. Follow me and I’ll show you.’ Ena led the way to the sitting room, opened the window and looked out. ‘We don’t have a garden, but there’s an ornate staircase behind the kitchen door that leads to a sizable yard at the back of the building. The stairs are steep and narrow, but Henry and I can dozy-doe down them in the summer with a glass of wine. We can have lunch alfresco as the continentals do. We can’t sit out now. The couple who lived here used it as a dumping ground for everything they didn’t want to take with them when they left, but the builders said they’ll clear it and clean the paving slabs, so next summer…’

  ‘Maybe even sooner. They’re getting on really well with the renovations.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘You know the latest trend in city dwelling is flowers in big pots.’

  Ena laughed. ‘Can you see Henry sitting in a deckchair surrounded by pots with flowers in them?’

  ‘Yes, actually, I can. Though it might be a bit noisy.’

  ‘Not on Sundays. There’s nowhere open. Apart from the odd coffee bar, everywhere else is shut. There’ll be a few buses, but no cars,’

  ‘When the yard’s been cleared, I’ll come shopping with you for pots and plants.’

  ‘That’s a date. But now, we’re going to have a drink at The Lamb.’

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ‘Selwyn Horton’s only crime,’ Ena said to an attentive Inspector Powell, ‘if you can call it a crime at all, was leaving the gallery and going home because someone was in his house threatening to hurt his daughter and her baby.’

  ‘Ena, he didn’t call the Police about the break-in.’

  ‘Because when he came round after he’d been hit on the head, he checked the art against the list he’d been given and nothing had been stolen.’

  ‘Paintings could have been stolen and replaced by forgeries.’

  ‘I know that and you know that, but he didn’t know that. Security guards don’t know enough about paintings to tell which are genuine and which are forgeries. You said yourself the forgeries were good. They were so good that some owners who’d had their paintings stolen didn’t notice they’d been replaced by forgeries.’

  The inspector didn’t reply immediately. When he did, he said, ‘You obviously think Selwyn Horton is straight.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘He should still have informed us that there had been a break-in.’

  ‘I know, and he knows he should have too. And, if the same thing were to happen again, he would inform the Police, but he panicked. All he could think about was the safety of his family. He was also worried that he’d lose his job, which he would have done if Giselle Aubrey knew he’d left the gallery.’ Ena looked at the inspector. ‘You can trust him. I’m sure he’ll help us if we ask.’

  Ena thought she had explained Selwyn Horton’s predicament well enough to get the DI onside. ‘There’s just one thing. Artie has offered to keep watch on Horton’s house to make sure the bloke who threatened Horton’s daughter doesn’t come back. But I think Horton would be happier working with us if he knew someone from the force was in the house with his daughter while he was at work. I thought maybe a WPC would be better than a male officer.’

  The inspector nodded thoughtfully but said nothing.

  ‘Anyway, have a look at these.’ She pushed the paper wallet containing the photographs that Artie took of Mantel and Horton across the inspector’s desk. ‘Before you look at them, you’ll see Mantel give Horton this.’ She took the money from her bag and put it on top of the photographs. ‘Horton didn’t want it then and he doesn’t want it now.’

  The inspector opened the envelope that Ena had put the money in. ‘How much is in here?’

  ‘I didn’t count it. But there’s enough to make Mantel thinks he’s bought Horton.’ The inspector looked up at her. ‘And before you ask, no, he hasn’t. I saw Mantel foist the money on him.’

  ‘Horton could have refused it.’

  ‘He did, twice. He walked away from Mantel, and Mantel followed him. He took the money because Mantel told him that he had no control over what his bosses would do to Horton’s family if he couldn’t tell them that Horton would help him.’

  ‘There’s no end to what Mantel will do and say to get what he wants.’

  ‘I expect he’s as scared of his paymasters as Horton is.’ The inspector picked up the photographs and slowly looked through them. He held one up, picked up the next and did the same. ‘That’s Victor in the background. He’s in this photograph too. Mantel needs to watch his step. If Victor knows what he’s up to, Mantel’s bosses will be the least of his worries.’ He put down the photographs. ‘What time will Horton be here?’

  Ena looked at her watch. ‘Anytime now. I said I’d meet him outside. I’d better go down in case he’s early. I don’t want him to think we don’t believe him.’ At the door, Ena looked back, the inspector had picked up the telephone. ‘You do believe him, don’t you?’

  ‘Assure him that a WPC will be with his daughter and granddaughter while he’s at the gallery.’

  As she closed Inspector Powell’s office door, Ena heard him ask WPC Jarvis to come to his office. She exhaled with relief, ran down the stairs and out through the street door.

  ‘Selwyn?’ she called. He was on the other side of the road walking briskly. Ena called him again and this time he turned round and looked at her. She waved and ran across the road to join him. She had no intention of asking him if he was leaving, but said, ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Then, before he had time to reply, ‘DI Powell is going to arrange for a woman Police constable to stay with your family while you’re working at the gallery.’

  Horton took a deep breath and sounding relieved, whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll take you up to his office.’ Ena could sense there was something wrong. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

  ‘No, not at all…’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘Does the DI know I went home the night of the break-in at the gallery?’

  ‘Yes, and he knows why you went home. Any decent father would.’ Ena could see Selwyn needed more persuading. ‘I’ve given him my account of how Mantel coerced you and is now blackmailing you and he has seen the photographs that Artie took. You’ve nothing to worry about. Inspector Powell knows the predicament you’re in and he’s grateful that you’re going to help us with the investigation. Come on, I’ll take you to his office.’

  From the corridor outside the DI’s office, Ena could hear voices. She gave Selwyn an encouraging smile. WPC Jarvis opened the door and asked them to go in. Inspector Powell welcomed Selwyn by shaking his hand – and Ena could tell by the way Selwyn’s shoulders relaxed, that he felt better about being there. Ena, an onlooker now, stood at the back of the room by the door while the inspector assured Selwyn that WPC Jarvis would ensure that his family would be safe.

  ‘Ena has brought me up to date with what has been happening at the gallery, as well as Mantel’s threats to you. Can you add anything that you think might help our enquiry?’

  Selwyn cleared his throat. ‘Last night Mantel let himself into the gallery after Miss Aubrey had left. I was in the office putting the new itinerary in order. As paintings come in, Miss Aubrey adds them to a list, the jewellery too. I find it easier to start at the front of the gallery with room one, list one, and work my way to the back of the building,’ he explained. ‘I was about to leave the office to start checking when I saw Mantel putting a suitcase and a leather suit-carrier in the storeroom. I didn’t want him to know I’d seen him so I went back to the desk and pretended I was still putting the lists in order. When he did
n’t appear, I went out into the corridor. He was nowhere to be seen. I gave the storeroom door a tug but it was locked. Mantel didn’t come past the office or I’d have seen him, so I guessed he’d gone out the back. I switched the light off and poked my head out of the back door. I was looking along the alley behind the gallery when I heard the front door bell ring. I shut the back door sharpish, put the light back on and ran to the front door. When I opened it, Mantel was standing there. He pushed past me saying he’d left his key at home. He asked me if Giselle was in the office. I told him no, Miss Aubrey had left for the day, which he knew anyway. He said, “Good, I need to make some calls.” Then he winked at me and said, “You haven’t seen me tonight, old buddy, okay?” I nodded that I understood, turned into room one, and he set off along the corridor to the office.

  ‘I started checking the paintings against my list and when I’d done, I went to room two. But instead of going in, I slipped along the corridor to Miss Aubrey’s office and listened at the door. I could hear Mantel talking on the telephone. Whoever he was talking to didn’t appear to understand him. He kept repeating “Saturday, Saturday night.” Then he shouted, “This weekend!” When he put the phone down, I heard him say, “God damn frogs!” I expected him to come charging out of the office in a rage, so I moved away from the door and went back to room two. When I’d finished in there, I had to pass the office to room three. I glanced in and saw Mantel putting something in Miss Aubrey’s desk. She uses the top drawer for important documents and Mantel uses the second drawer.’

  ‘Did you see what he put in the drawer?’

  Horton’s brow furrowed in thought. ‘It was a fairly big oblong envelope, thick like the ones the photography shop gives you when you’ve had a film developed, but bigger. There was writing on it.’ He brought his hands from behind his back and let his arms hang down by his side. ‘Red!’ he said suddenly. ‘The writing on the envelope was red and the envelope was white. I can’t tell you what is said, I only glimpsed the envelope when Mantel dropped it in the drawer. When he left, I went to the office and gave the drawer a tug, but as I thought, it was locked.’

  ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. We don’t have much time. The word ‘frogs’ sounds as if he’s going to France, tomorrow.’ The inspector rubbed his chin. ‘Which airport is he flying from? Is he flying at all? If he took the ferry, would he be in France by Saturday night?’

  ‘He’ll fly, surely?’ Ena said.

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Ena. But from where and to where is anyone’s guess. That envelope will probably contain an airline ticket, his passport, and money. He’ll need some Francs.’ Inspector Powell looked at Horton. ‘If we knew the name of the airline, we could check the times of the flights to France. At least then we’d have some idea which airport he’s flying out from and at what time.’ The DI got to his feet, walked around his desk and sat on the corner of it, keeping one foot on the floor. ‘How easy would it be for you to get into Mantel’s desk drawer tonight and look at what’s in that envelope?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s a keyring hanging up in the office that has a key to every room, but I don’t know if there are keys to open the drawers in Miss Aubrey’s desk.’

  The inspector stood up, took a key from his desk drawer and went to the safe in the corner of the room. Unlocking it, he took out a leather holder no bigger than a coin purse and gave it to Horton.

  Ena felt her cheeks blushing red with embarrassment. She knew exactly what the inspector had given Selwyn – lockpicks. Her sister Claire had used them to break into Shaun O’Shaughnessy’s house in Brighton the year before. She looked away.

  ‘You won’t know the size of the lockpick needed to get into Mantel’s drawer, so take them all. One of them will fit.’ Selwyn nodded and put the case of lockpicks in his inside jacket pocket. ‘Good. The quicker you get the job done, the safer it will be for everyone.’

  ‘As long as I don’t get caught with the lockpicks on me. I don’t want to be done for breaking and entering,’ Selwyn said, laughing nervously.

  ‘Nor me,’ Inspector Powell added. ‘Asking someone to pick a lock is not in the Police Procedure Handbook.’ Both men laughed.

  Ena had been worried about Selwyn when she saw him walking away from the Police station. She wasn’t now and exhaled with relief. The inspector and the ex-policeman seemed to be at ease in each other’s company. If not at ease, they understood one another. Ena caught WPC Jarvis’s eye. The woman Police constable gave her a reassuring smile.

  ‘The minute you know what’s in that envelope, telephone me here.’ The inspector gave Selwyn his telephone number. ‘WPC Jarvis will be at your house at seven o’clock tonight and she’ll stay there until you get home, which should be shortly after we get to the gallery.’

  Selwyn got up. ‘Thank you, Sir. Until tonight, then.’ As he passed Ena he nodded and put out his hand. Ena shook it and he said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Green.’ He didn’t give Ena time to reply. He turned to WPC Jarvis, thanked her and said, ‘I’ll see you tonight, Miss.’

  Ena watched the man who only yesterday carried the weight of the world on his shoulders walk confidently out of Inspector Powell’s office.

  WPC Jarvis said goodbye and left closing the door behind her.

  ‘Right!’ Ena said, ‘what do you want me to do, Inspector?’

  ‘Nothing, Ena. As far as the Louis Mantel case is concerned you’ve done all you can. I’ll take it from here.’

  Ena felt deflated. She should have responded with an ‘okay’ or ‘that’s good’ as any professional investigator would have done, but somehow she felt cheated. She got up and sauntered over to the door. Instead of leaving she turned back to the inspector who was writing. She waited. Then the telephone rang and he picked up the receiver. ‘Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir.’ He looked across the room at Ena. His face relaxed into a smile. Then he shook his head and looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘Thank you, Sir.’ Ena left.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘Artie, while Henry and I are at Mr Derby-Bloom’s funeral, would you check which security agencies Bob Smith has been with? They might have had him on their books as Robert Smith. He’s the security guard who left the Hogarth painting in the alley behind at The Savoy. There are a couple of security agencies in Leicester Square. Ask if Smith has been on any of their books. If he has, why did he leave them; was there trouble with clients, or did he leave of his own accord? Get as much background information on him as you can.’ Ena flicked through her diary. ‘Selwyn Horton said he’s now with Sure Security, but check out West End Security as well. Both have ex-coppers and firemen on their books.’

  ‘Credible agencies then.’

  ‘You’d like to think so, but I’m not sure. Horton is the real McCoy, but I don’t think Smith is. I think he’s working with Mantel but I can’t prove it, yet.’

  Artie pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. ‘I’m not leaving a trip over to Leicester Square until tomorrow. I’m going now, it’s quieter.’

  ‘Leicester Square, quieter?’ Ena said, laughing.

  ‘No, it’s quieter here, now. The telephone hasn’t rung for an hour.’ Artie sighed loudly. ‘As I was saying, I’ll do my Sherlock Holmes act now and then I won’t have to leave the office tomorrow while you’re away at the funeral. I have plenty to do.’ Artie put the file he’d been writing up into the filing cabinet and as he passed Ena’s desk, he stopped. ‘Why don’t you go early? There really isn’t much that needs doing here. Have a rest, you look all in.’

  ***

  Ena put the sealed manilla envelope containing the details of the investigation into the death of George’s father in her briefcase and Henry put it in the boot of his car with their overnight cases. Ena dropped onto the passenger seat.

  ‘Thanks for coming to the funeral with me,’ she said, and yawning, slid down in the comfortable leather seat of Henry’s Humber.

  ‘I had every intention of taking you, darling. I put in for the day off as soon as you told me the date.’
r />   ‘I didn’t give you much notice.’

  ‘I didn’t give the office much notice, but I explained the situation to Colonel Smith and he was fine about it. Anyone else he might not have been, but he’s always had a soft spot where you’re concerned.’

  ‘Mmmm…Well, thanks anyway,’ Ena replied. Henry’s Humber was much newer than her Sunbeam and with less wear and tear, it purred along smoothly at any speed.

  Ena marvelled at Surrey’s rich green grasslands and heaths, the woodlands, rivers and later the rolling chalk downs. ‘This part of Surrey’s beautiful,’ Ena said, looking out of the passenger window. ‘How much further to Thurston Water?’

  ‘A mile, maybe two. Do you want to call at the house first, or go straight to the hotel?’

  Ena wondered whether they might be in the way if they went to George’s house. ‘There’ll be people in and out all the time delivering food. And Natalie’s there. She drove down last night with food. She’s staying at the house so she’s on hand if George needs her. No,’ Ena said, ‘Betsy’s there too. We’ll be in the way. Let’s go straight to the hotel.’

  Henry glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘It’s only eleven, why don’t we find a hotel, put our bags in our room, and have something to eat.’

  ‘Good idea. That’s another reason for not going to the house. George would insist on making us food.’

  As they drove along the High Street, Ena spotted the Manor Hotel, an imposing four-storey building painted white with black window frames and ledges. Half barrels painted black and filled with summer flowers decorated the pavement at the front of the hotel. ‘The Manor Hotel looks nice. Let’s go in and see if they have any vacancies.’ Henry slowed the car and when there was no oncoming traffic turned right under the archway in the centre of the building to a car park at the back. More tubs and pots with colourful flowers, as well as tables and chairs shaded by large striped umbrellas – the kind you see on the coast – were placed in a line, roped off by thick black cord linked every now and again to brass poles. Ena got out of the car and began walking towards the road. Henry took the bags from the boot and followed her under the arch to the main front door of the hotel.