Chapter 12
I made my way up the second flight of stairs to the third floor. I knew I was on thin ice here. I could easily have said I was lost on the lower floors, but up here, in Leonard’s very private territory, his bedroom and possibly his office, I could have nothing to offer in the way of an excuse. There was absolutely no reason for me to be here. If I was caught, the police would be called. In pursuit of doing the right thing and finding the culprit to a serious crime, I could well be the one in trouble.
Unwittingly, I found my thoughts drifting back all those years to the court case after the fire and remembered how hard it was to do the right thing and make sure that justice was served, whatever the repercussions. Talking about it with Dorothy had brought it to the forefront of my mind and it would hang around there until I could get rid of it again for a while.
The oak staircase was just as beautifully carved as it was in the entrance vestibule. No expense had been spared for this private part of the house. I ran my hand along the turned spindles as I went quietly and carefully up, but each step came with the horrible knowledge that I was closer to doing something I really shouldn’t, and instead of rushing to get it over and done with, I found myself slowing down.
‘Come on, Gina,’ I said to myself. ‘You’re either doing this, or you’re not, but if you are, you need to get your backside moving.’
At the top I had two options: straight ahead or a turn round to the right and along a dark corridor. There were curtains pulled closed on high windows, I assumed to stop the sunlight from bleaching the artwork hung along the walls, but could it be something else? Could Philip’s painting be hanging here in plain sight as Dorothy suggested? Surely it couldn’t be that easy. Not wanting to turn on the light and draw attention to my presence, I pulled out my phone and switched on the torch instead, shielding the majority of the light with my hand.
There were several paintings along this part of the landing and all were landscapes, but none were of the coastal scene and I couldn’t help feel a stab of disappointment that it wasn’t going to be an easy find. The light from my phone cast shadows across the works and made them appear Gothic and atmospheric. There were windswept moors and bleak mountainsides, lonely stretches of river and one was a field of corn, but because the sky was a threatening mass of dark clouds it had a sombre quality. Maybe that was why Leonard had them here, for exactly that reason. With a thrumming heart I turned the handle on the only door and opened it onto Leonard’s bedroom.
What I was expecting to find, I wasn’t entirely sure, but the bright, hotel-like modern decor of the room was a surprise. Leonard’s drapes at the windows were swathes of sheer, silver silk in perfect folds and the carpet was almost the same shade. His furniture was mostly white, but inlaid with silver leaf, which gleamed in the light coming from the four windows. His bed was like a huge silver marshmallow, the kind that, as a child, I would have liked to have taken a running jump at before face-planting on the covers. I had no such urge now.
There was a Chinese cabinet at the end of his bed and, unusually, it wasn’t facing out into the room, but instead was facing the bed itself. Almost as if it could be a TV cabinet. Again, it was mostly white with marquetry in the palest of wood. I leaned across the covers and tried the door, thinking it was big enough to house a small painting if not a television, but it was locked.
The only splash of colour in the room, although muted, was from the beautiful crewel embroidery work hanging behind the bed. Flowers and leaves with birds decorated the fabric and, on closer inspection, I could see it was old. Exactly how old I couldn’t guess at first glance and I really didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, I carefully pulled the corner away from the wall, to see if there was anything hiding behind, but the wall was blank.
I took out my phone to check it and that was when I saw a missed message from Dorothy. I’d forgotten to take my phone off silent. My heart was in my mouth and my feet were already on their way to the bedroom door as I opened the message.
All quiet here.
I let out a long breath and walked towards the window to make sure that Dorothy was right about the coast being clear. From here, I could see across to the lake and further towards the woods. The other window had a perfect view of the parterre garden and across to the folly where Dorothy had first told me of the plan. It made me uneasy to think that if Leonard had been up here he would easily have seen the two of us sitting and talking inside the building. But, obviously, he would never have heard us and it should have looked quite innocent. Well, apart from the two of us popping our heads out to make sure no one was watching.
Keen to leave Leonard’s bedroom, I opened my camera app and began snapping every aspect of the room. I hoped that all these pictures I was taking would enlighten me somehow, but it felt like a fruitless search at the moment. I couldn’t bring myself to open any drawers, but I did glance into his bathroom and was unsurprised to see a continuation of the white and silver theme.
Back on the landing I hesitated before opening one of the two doors at the far end. It was a sitting room, dark and gloomy with blinds pulled closed on both windows. I closed the door and tried the other and, as I suspected, it was Leonard’s office: a huge room with bookcases, a desk, a fireplace with a perfectly placed chair, a side table with his current read and no obvious sign of the missing painting. It was a lot to take in and I snapped a couple of images. Really, though this was not enough and I thought briefly about what I was about to do and then stepped inside, because after all, by being in his bedroom I’d already crossed the line of no return and it was time to dig a bit deeper.
I turned my phone to record my voice exactly the same way that I used to do when investigating a new piece, or indeed an old piece, for a collection. Of course that had been with an old-fashioned Dictaphone, and what felt like a million years ago. I began to whisper and was surprised to realise how natural it felt to me.
‘I’m standing in the middle of the study and there is a mild smell of tobacco in the air. I haven’t noticed Leonard smoking, but that means nothing, of course. Perhaps he comes up here to fill his lungs. His desk is cluttered and unfortunately the drawers are all locked. The tall, free-standing cupboard by the window is not locked and I can see as I open it that it is stuffed full of papers.’
I stopped to take a photograph and then began to record again.
‘Not much of interest. Old bank statements and documents – nothing for me here.’
I closed the cupboard and turned my attention to the shelves on the far wall. His collection of books here was as eclectic as his art and I skimmed my eyes over the spines feeling both the trepidation of being here and also the anticipation of finding something ebbing away from me.
‘This is pointless. The painting is clearly not here,’ I said into the phone, knowing that I was very much wasting my time.
I was about to click off the recording when my eyes fell on a small booklet sticking out between his other books. It had a grainy image of a painting on the thin spine and if I wasn’t mistaken it was the coastal scene. I carefully took a photo before pulling it out. It was important to make sure I put it back exactly where I’d found it.
2021 Art Enthusiasts’ Treasure Hunt
Sponsored by The Art Association Trust
I read the words into my phone from the front of the booklet and just below them was a picture of the coastal scene: the prize! I took a photo and flicked through the pages, reading out a little of what I could see there. It was a list of the clues and pinpoints to locations, hints and tips of how to get the most out of the competition. The questions were actually more simple than I would have thought. They weren’t riddles; they were proper quiz questions relating to music and theatre, sport, art and literature. I didn’t know all the answers immediately but most people who were good at general knowledge would. Anyone on a pub quiz team would ace it. Once you had a collection of answers in each section it led you to a location where you could pick up extra clues. A lot of fun, I imagined, but not quite the high-brow competition I’d been led to believe by Dorothy. Perhaps poor Philip had made more of it to make his wife proud of his win. When I flicked through to the rules I could see that all the names of the contestants with correct answers to the last question in the last location would be put into a hat. That was how Philip had won.
I closed the book and replaced it on the shelf in its exact position and took a moment to wonder what I was doing. Was this what it was all about? A basic but fun treasure hunt and a prize that you could honestly buy for a couple of hundred quid or possibly less? I sighed and retraced my steps to the door, but really I knew this wasn’t it. For Dorothy it was all about Philip’s death and if Leonard was responsible for hiring someone to take the watercolour, then he was directly implicated. Finding the painting was the only way to prove his involvement. By finding this booklet, though, I wasn’t really any closer. My phone pinged with another message.
Harry is serving me tea so he’s out and about. Might be an idea to come down.
I tapped out a quick response.
On my way.
I made sure my voice recording app was switched off and took one last picture of the room, even though I felt there was nothing more to find there, but as I closed the door I suddenly wondered about other cameras, those hidden in the corners of the rooms, watching my every move.
I decided to forget the sitting room for now and go and find Dorothy, check what she knew about the security arrangements in the house. Leonard was a man who seemed to like old-fashioned and formal dinners, games that involved wooden mallets and balls, basic quiz questions in a hedged maze. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t have a level of security rigged up in his home that would cover any potential theft of his own property. I contemplated a hurried departure to the station. I suddenly felt very sick.
Dorothy was exactly where I had left her, in position in the bay window, now with a cup of tea in her hand. She glanced up when I entered the room and gave me a very direct look before moving her eyes across to the left where Harry was busy putting something into a cupboard built into the wall.
‘Ah, Gina, there you are. Did you get some rest?’ she asked me. ‘How’s your head now?’
Harry looked up at Dorothy’s words and I smiled at him.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he asked me and I noted a hint of something close to uncertainty in his expression. I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure that Harry liked me for some reason and I remembered that he’d been in charge of drinks last night. It suddenly hit me quite clearly that I would never have been that drunk to have lost an evening’s memories from one, two or – if I were honest – even three drinks. Had Harry been topping me up without me noticing, or had he slipped some extra shots of alcohol in mine? As I thought it, though, it seemed silly and I felt as if I was being paranoid. Why on earth would he do that?
‘No, thank you,’ I said, to be on the safe side.
‘Do you need something for your headache?’ he asked me.
‘Oh, I’m fine now, thank you. I had some of that punch you made last night in the maze and it knocked me sideways. I shouldn’t have let Leonard talk me into it,’ I said, smiling at him again, but his expression was fixed. Then for a horrible moment I wondered if he was in charge of those security cameras that I’d convinced myself were hiding in the corners of every room in the house and that he’d just watched me poking around in his master’s bedroom. I tried to quell my thoughts and keep calm while my stomach did a nasty roiling motion.
I joined Dorothy by the window, my hand shaking a little as I poured myself a glass of water from a carafe that was on the table. We both waited until Harry had left the room and then Dorothy spoke, her voice soft, low and urgent.
‘Anything?’
‘I haven’t found the painting if that’s what you mean. I’m photographing everything and I’ve been in Leonard’s bedroom and study, but Dorothy, I’m worried about security cameras. It’s possible he has them and I’m scuppered if that’s the case. In fact, if he does then he’ll already have seen me poking about. I can’t believe I didn’t think about it.’
‘Honest people don’t usually think about these things and I’m sorry to say that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind either.’
Harry came back in then carrying a plate of biscuits, which he put down on the table between us.
‘Thought you might like these,’ he said.
‘Lovely,’ Dorothy said, taking a cookie and pausing before it got to her mouth. ‘Oh, Harry, this might seem like the musings of a silly old woman, but I was thinking with all the art and antiques that Leonard has, I’d hope he has tight security. I was very unlucky to have fallen foul of a nasty person who stole from me and I just wished we had installed security cameras. Leonard is probably smarter than me, though.’
‘Well, no actually, he doesn’t. I did ask when I first started work here, because, you know, I’d want to know if my every working hour was being watched, even though I’m only ever doing what Leonard asks me to do.’
As he said this, I noticed he seemed despondent, or maybe resigned. Harry, it appeared, didn’t like his job all that much.
‘The gardener told me that although Leonard has CCTV installed to monitor the outside of the property, he doesn’t have anything inside,’ he continued.
‘So, the poor gardener has his every working hour monitored,’ I said with a laugh that I hoped didn’t sound as full of relief as it actually was.
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Well, I’ll leave you in peace,’ he said and then left.
‘That’s a relief, I suppose,’ Dorothy said.
I opened the camera roll and began scrolling through my photos. Back and forth I went, trying to make some connection between what I could see and what I hoped to discover. I kept coming back to the picture of the mirror in the hallway and turned my phone around to show Dorothy.
‘What do you make of that oddly placed mirror?’ I asked her. ‘I can’t understand why he would hang it so low. I want to take another look.’
‘I actually asked him about that and he said it was for his dog to look at itself,’ she said.
‘I didn’t know he had a dog. Where is he hiding that?’
‘Apparently he no longer has it.’
‘Oh, it died?’
‘He didn’t say dead, he said gone, but I don’t think he seems like the sort for pets.’
‘I would have to agree, but if he did have a dog and put the mirror there for it, that would make him a bit more human, don’t you think?’ I suggested.
‘Yes, well, that’s why I don’t believe he had a dog at all,’ Dorothy said.
When Dorothy had finished her tea we wandered back down and through to the entrance hall and stood in front of the mirror staring at our lower legs. Then I crouched down into a squat, which took some effort, and when I got my bearings on the odd reflected angle I noticed that from where I was, I could see the fan vase on the windowsill above and it had been moved back to its original, odd position. I was about to tell Dorothy when there was a commotion and the house guests all suddenly appeared in the hallway. ‘Leonard’s bust his knee,’ said Juliet with a face that suggested that was the most interesting thing that had happened all afternoon.