CHAPTER 12
PAPER TRAIL
“Ask Fenn why the backing was changed.”
Romy read Sebastian’s note again.
The question bothered her more than any accusation in the file. Accusations declared themselves. Questions showed where certainty had failed.
Sebastian had known the panel’s current history was false. He had found the 1997 photograph, noticed the changed backing, and started looking for the missing years between Halden House and Asterleigh.
Then he had walked into the Blue Study and died.
Ellis closed the research box.
“That is enough for today.”
Romy looked at the hotel clock.
“It’s barely three.”
“You have been reading Sebastian Pryce’s handwriting for four hours.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
Vivian Cross gathered her legal folders.
“I haven’t.”
Iqra had ended the call twenty minutes earlier after sending the archive citation directly to police. She was still working on the 1998 Halden dispersal, but the public trail had reached its limit.
The panel existed at Halden House in 1997. In 1998, parts of the collection were sold while some furnishing elements were privately divided among family members.
Then nothing.
No auction trace, museum loan, photographed collection, or dealer listing until Fenn Found described it as a recent acquisition from a long-held family collection and supplied it to the Merewick Show House.
Romy tapped Sebastian’s note.
“You need Marcus’s acquisition file.”
“We have requested it.”
“Requested?”
Ellis looked at her.
“That is what police sometimes do before arriving with warrants.”
“What if he edits it?”
“He has already been instructed to preserve records.”
“People ignore instructions.”
“I am aware.”
Vivian said, “Marcus’s solicitors are cooperating.”
Romy glanced at her.
“You sound almost convinced.”
“I sound professionally neutral.”
“That is worse.”
Vivian stood.
“I have a call.”
She left.
Romy remained seated while Ellis returned Sebastian’s papers to evidence sleeves.
“You’re not throwing me out.”
“I’m considering it.”
“That is progress.”
Ellis stopped with one photograph in his hand.
“Do not make me regret treating you like a responsible adult.”
Romy smiled.
“That sounded almost personal.”
“It was a warning.”
He returned the photograph, then said without looking at her, “We recovered more from Sebastian’s notebook.”
Her smile vanished.
The black notebook had been found on the Blue Study floor several feet from Sebastian’s hand. Ellis had refused every attempt to learn what else it contained.
“What changed?”
“You.”
She stared at him.
“You have finally managed several days without publishing evidence, publicly accusing a suspect, or contaminating a witness beyond repair.”
“That is an offensively low assessment.”
“It was a complicated week.”
“You said I contaminated Sophie.”
“I said you interviewed her after I told you not to.”
“She still gave you a statement.”
“After being encouraged by you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ellis looked at her.
Romy stopped.
He took out his phone.
“I’m showing you one entry because it relates directly to an object history you are helping identify.”
“Not because you trust me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I am already regretting this.”
He opened an evidence photograph.
Sebastian’s notebook page filled the screen, its compressed handwriting packed with names, times, and half-finished questions.
Romy read the relevant line.
Fenn. Blue Study. 6:55. Full provenance, not sales story.
Her attention narrowed.
“Six fifty-five.”
“Yes.”
“Fenn.”
“Yes.”
“Blue Study.”
“Yes.”
“Immediately before Sebastian entered at six fifty-seven.”
“Yes.”
Romy looked at Ellis.
“And Marcus says what?”
“I have not told you what Marcus says.”
“You’re going to.”
“No.”
“You cannot show me that and leave the obvious question unanswered.”
“I can.”
“Cruel.”
“Professional.”
Romy looked back at the screen.
Full provenance, not sales story.
The phrase sounded like Sebastian: dismissive, precise, hostile toward whatever polished version Marcus had been presenting.
“Was there any message confirming the meeting?”
“We have not found one.”
“Phone?”
“Nothing obvious.”
“Email?”
“Nothing obvious.”
“So Sebastian wrote it down without a visible invitation.”
“Yes.”
“Could someone else have told him Marcus would be there?”
“Possible.”
“Could he have intended to confront Marcus without warning?”
“Also possible.”
Romy sat back.
At 6:52, Marcus had walked toward the Blue Study service corridor carrying the plate-warmer and burgundy felt. At 6:55, Sebastian expected Fenn there. At 6:57, Sebastian entered. At 7:03, he texted Vivian that he had found the real story. By 7:05, Marcus was speaking to the courtyard crowd.
The overlap was small.
It no longer looked accidental.
“What did you find in Sebastian’s coat?”
Ellis gave her a look.
“Nice try.”
“You said more evidence had been recovered.”
“I said more from the notebook.”
“His coat was taken too.”
“Yes.”
“Anything useful?”
“No answer.”
“Meaning yes.”
“Meaning stop.”
Romy looked at the notebook entry again.
“Do Marcus’s lawyers know you have this?”
“Yes.”
“Has he been interviewed about it?”
Ellis put away the phone.
“That is the end of the limited case information.”
Romy folded her arms.
“You enjoyed that phrase.”
“Very much.”
The next morning Marcus’s acquisition file arrived.
Not one file.
Three.
The boxes came to Asterleigh under supervision from Marcus’s solicitor, who treated each like crown jewels.
Ellis allowed Romy into the temporary project office to interpret condition language, mounting descriptions, and the photographic sequence. Leo sat beside her with a separate task.
“Index only,” Romy reminded him.
“I know.”
“No theories.”
“I know.”
“No taking photographs.”
“I know.”
“No touching documents unless handed to you.”
Leo looked at her.
“Have you met yourself?”
“That is why I’m thorough.”
Ellis entered carrying the first box.
Marcus came behind him.
He looked immaculate again, his confidence partly restored.
“This is everything,” Marcus said.
Ellis set the box on the table.
“Everything relating to acquisition, transport, treatment, valuation, and supply of the panel?”
“Yes.”
“Dealer communications?”
“Yes.”
“Estate records?”
“Yes.”
“Consultant review?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Included.”
Romy noticed.
“So there was a consultant.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Of course.”
“Who?”
“Ruth Mallory.”
“Decorative arts?”
“Independent provenance consultant.”
“Former auction-house specialist?”
“Yes.”
Leo looked at Romy.
She mouthed, later.
Marcus continued.
“Ruth reviewed the material before Fenn Found completed the purchase.”
“Authenticated it?” Romy asked.
“No.”
Too fast.
Ellis noticed.
“What did she do?”
“Reviewed the documentation available from the estate.”
“For authenticity?”
“For coherence.”
Romy frowned.
“That is a useful word.”
“It is an accurate one.”
“Did she verify ownership back to 1998?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because there was nothing to verify.”
Silence.
Marcus caught the problem.
“No surviving paperwork available to us.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
Ellis opened the first box.
The acquisition file was beautiful.
Romy distrusted it immediately.
Cream dividers, typed inventory sheets, photographs, condition report, payment schedule, transport documentation, insurance valuation, and a short biography of the supposed previous owner.
The deceased collector was Lionel Mercer, a retired Northumberland solicitor who died aged eighty-two. His estate had sold household contents privately through an intermediary.
The panel appeared as Item 47.
Painted silk panel, probable late eighteenth century.
Family ownership, date uncertain.
Marcus said, “This is how we acquired it.”
Romy turned pages.
“How long did Mercer own it?”
“Unknown.”
“Who owned it before Mercer?”
“Unknown.”
“When did he acquire it?”
“Unknown.”
“From whom?”
“Unknown.”
Marcus’s patience thinned.
“Collectors do not always preserve paperwork.”
“No.”
“Private houses are full of objects nobody can trace perfectly.”
“Yes.”
“So the gaps are not unusual.”
“Thirty years is a large gap when you market an object using family continuity.”
He leaned forward.
“The wording was based on the estate representation.”
“Which said?”
“Family ownership.”
“Whose family?”
“Mercer’s.”
“For how long?”
“Unspecified.”
Romy looked at Fenn Found’s typed description.
Recent private acquisition from long-held family collection.
“You improved the wording.”
Marcus’s eyes cooled.
“We made it readable.”
“You made it stronger.”
“No.”
“Long-held is stronger than date uncertain.”
“That is interpretation.”
“It is English.”
“Romy,” Ellis said.
She stopped.
Marcus looked toward the window.
“This is exactly why nobody wants to cooperate with amateur investigators.”
Romy smiled.
“Then answer the detective.”
Ellis almost smiled.
They continued.
Payment records showed Fenn Found bought the panel with a small group of decorative objects. The price was substantial but far below what documented Halden provenance might have commanded.
Romy pointed.
“If you had known it was Halden, would the value increase?”
“Potentially.”
“How much?”
“Depends on documentation.”
“But enough to matter.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know before buying?”
“No.”
“Before Asterleigh?”
“No.”
“Before Sebastian recognized it?”
“No.”
“Did Sebastian tell you?”
“No.”
Ellis looked at him.
Marcus kept his gaze on Romy.
“No.”
Romy turned another divider.
RUTH MALLORY REVIEW.
Five pages.
The first covered stylistic consistency.
Textile age plausible. Paint and print characteristics broadly compatible with late eighteenth to early nineteenth century production. Backing modern. Mounting recent. No maker’s marks or surviving labels.
Ownership represented by seller as longstanding family possession.
No independent chain established prior to current estate.
Romy read the last line twice.
“No independent chain established.”
“So Ruth flagged it.”
“Yes.”
“But the catalogue didn’t.”
“The catalogue was not a legal title report.”
“It was an object history.”
“It was a sponsor catalogue.”
Romy looked at him.
“There’s your sales story.”
Marcus went still.
Ellis’s attention sharpened.