Chapter Twenty-Nine
The following morning, Clem stood outside Otto’s door and knocked. She had a bag of Milanese roast coffee beans that Paddy had posted to her, and whilst she knew it wouldn’t replace Abdul, it was a gesture if nothing else. There was no sound from within, so she knocked again. This time there was a rather terse acknowledgement and Clem walked in.
As usual, the sight of the room with all its treasures made her smile, but looking at Otto, sitting in an armchair overlooking a window, she frowned.
The woman was still in her dressing gown, had no make-up and looked to all intents and purposes like a little, frail old lady. Clem pursed her lips.
‘I’ve brought you coffee. Would you like a cup?’
Ignoring Otto as she said no, Clem headed to the little kitchen and set up a brew. Even if Otto didn’t want one she did. The conversation she was about to have with Otto was going to be difficult enough, and she wasn’t sure if either of them would be up for it without some fortification. As she pottered around the cupboards, she called out over her shoulder to Otto, who was still looking out the window.
‘Postie has been relocated to Inverness. He’s on a walking route now. He won’t be up here again.’ Clem decided not to mention the gun or the policeman. ‘Mr McKenzie buried Abdul alongside Ribbons.’
Otto gave a small huff. ‘Poor Ribbons, Abdul used to plague him something rotten as a kitten. I hope he’s ready to have his peace disturbed again.’
‘That’s exactly what Mr McKenzie said. Said Ribbons was a noble hound who was always very kind and gentle with the little kitten running along his back.’ Grabbing two cups, Clem continued talking. ‘How do you have your coffee? Black?’
Again not waiting for Otto to refuse, she poured the two cups and joined Otto in the other chair at the window. She had paused long enough for Otto to hear the news about the postman and Abdul and compose herself, and now she watched as Otto sniffed at the coffee, and then took a careful sip.
‘Yes, this is acceptable, thank you.’
Clem raised her eyebrow.
‘This is excellent and you know it. My sister posted it over from Milan. It wouldn’t kill you to say so.’
Otto looked at Clem square in the eyes and then shrugged her shoulders.
‘Yes, it is excellent. But then it is Italian.’
She paused again as though she had conceded nothing and in fact had the upper hand. Clem decided to let it go; they had bigger fish to fry. Hell. They had a whale to land.
‘About the painting.’
Otto placed her cup back on its saucer and held up her hand to stop Clem.
‘Please say no more, Lady Clementine. I have already packed. I shall move out with no forwarding address. It will help you with deniability. I shall attempt to deal with the painting myself. I have a few ideas, and hopefully by the time of the exhibition I will not bring any scandal to your family.’
Clem took another sip. Forty-eight hours ago this was exactly what she had hoped for. However, since then she had been plagued with bad sleep and indecision. The death of Abdul had opened her eyes and settled her concerns.
‘I had something else in mind.’ Now Clem placed her cup on the table and leant forward. ‘The thing is, I’m going to be having a runway show in that gallery in a few months’ time. If you can think of a way to make a switch then, would that work? Swap the two pictures over? Am I being stupid? Would it even be possible? I don’t know, maybe you could start a fire?’
‘A fire in the Victoria and Albert!?’ Otto tutted at Clem for such an idea, she sipped her coffee before continuing. ‘But maybe something could be done?’
‘Okay, well look, this has to be between us. I’m not going to tell Ari. I need her to have full deniability. And I would really not like to get dragged into it either, but so long as she’s protected that’s fine. I might give my youngest sister, Aster, a call. She’s quite good at this sort of thing.’
Otto looked at her and raised her eyebrow.
‘Art theft. Forgery. Sleight of hand?’
‘No, obviously not. But she has a mind that can see around corners and has no regard for the law. If there’s a solution to be found, she’ll find it. In the meantime…’ Clem paused. ‘Will you stay? It is your choice, of course, to leave but I have a sneaky feeling that Ruacoddy would crumble if you left.’
‘Like the ravens at the Tower of London?’
‘Well, you do wear a lot of black,’ grinned Clem, standing up. ‘Incidentally, I think it’s time you stopped calling me Lady Clementine. It doesn’t sit well with me. How about Clem?’
Otto looked at her, considering, and then shook her head.
‘I will call you Clementine; Clem is too casual.’
Clem squinted. It was a small improvement. She looked at her housekeeper and nodded in agreement.
‘And I suppose, in return, you may call me Ottoline,’ said Otto graciously.
‘Otto it is, then,’ said Clem smiling,. Now it was Otto’s turn to frown.
As she turned to go, she could see through the bedroom door and there was indeed a suitcase with clothes in it, lying open on the bed. Clem’s heart twisted a little and she knew she had made the right decision. Pretending she hadn’t seen the suitcase, she turned back to Otto.
‘Now, are you planning on spending all day in your nightie? Only Ginny wants to know what rooms need cleaning today and Mr McKenzie wanted to discuss the harvest rotation. I can do it if you don’t feel capable?’
And happy as Otto scowled at her, saying she would be down presently, Clem left the room.