Chapter Twenty-One #3
I was stunned. ‘You mean I could have starved to death in a wine cellar for the sake of a few poxy posters bought on ?’
Luc laughed. ‘Not quite. An artist friend of my father’s made copies, highly professional copies, and Dad hung those on the walls. Nobody ever knew except Jess, and she didn’t tell me until after Dad died. I think it was a question of pride. Dad couldn’t bear to admit he’d failed.’
I didn’t know what to say. ‘But… but…’ I stammered, ‘but isn’t it, you know, um, like, illegal to forge a work of art?’
‘Goodness, Ms Bailey, what a law-abiding citizen you are.’
I opened my mouth to retaliate but saw the twinkle in his eye. ‘Oh, shut up.’
‘With pleasure,’ he responded equably. ‘However – no. Forgery is against the law of course, but it is not illegal to copy a work of art providing you do not offer that copy for sale claiming it to be the original. You can copy the Mona Lisa if you like, provided you do not try to sell it pretending it is the Mona Lisa.’
‘But Tom’s a blackmailer, a thief. And he falsely imprisoned you and me. He threatened us with a knife, for mercy’s sake!’
‘He didn’t, actually. He dropped the knife when I asked him to.
’ Luc stood up and started pacing round the kitchen.
‘But fair enough, Perry Mason. You tell me what I should say if I do decide to report Tom. The local flics know me and they know him. He’s spent quite a few nights in their cells over the years when he’s been picked up for being drunk and a nuisance.
They’d probably throw the proverbial book at him. ’
Then he sat down again and looked earnestly at me.
‘But how do I then tell them the paintings were fakes? For two decades, the police here in Nice have laboured under the delusion that there are priceless works of art kept in this house. For reasons best known to himself, my father never disabused them of that impression, any more than he did with the security company. It was all part of Dad keeping up appearances. I’d have to do some very fast talking indeed to explain it was all a sham and yet almost certainly would still end up in a pile of trouble. ’
I saw his point. ‘Tricky,’ I murmured. ‘Nevertheless, have you thought of the risk that leaving Tom at large poses to others? The man’s dangerous, a psycho.’
‘No, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe he is a psycho or dangerous. He left the gun here, remember? And the knife.’
‘He’s such a prat he probably forgot to take them.’
‘Alix, Tom is merely a sad, embittered old man who has lost his way in life.’
‘Well, I sincerely hope he doesn’t find his way back here.’
‘He won’t. He’s doubtless nicked the Citroen too. “She’s running very nicely now, boss,”’ he mimicked in Tom’s grovelling voice. ‘Yes, the hapless Tom will be well across the border into Italy by now, licking his lips in anticipation of endless flagons of chianti.’
We smiled at each other. Then the next minute, our smiles switched off like a power cut as we both had the same thought at the same moment: the Citroen, the faulty steering.
‘Where did you put the keys?’ cried Luc, leaping to his feet.
‘I dropped them on the floor in the hall when I grabbed hold of your jacket.’
He was out of the room in a flash. Seconds later, I heard the front door slam and he was back.
‘The keys are gone! The car’s gone! The stupid idiot has taken it!’
There was a pause as we stared at each other, speechless with horror, until Luc once more collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands. I watched him for a moment or two, not knowing what to say. Then I reached out and touched his arm.
‘I think you must phone the police now,’ I murmured.
Wearily, he lifted his head and gazed at me. He looked suddenly much older.
‘I know. But God knows what I’m going to say.’ He gave a hopeless shrug. ‘After all, it doesn’t sound good, does it? “Excuse me, Mr Policeman, but my fuckwit chauffeur has hot-footed it in my motor vehicle which has buggered-up steering.” It will sound even worse in French.’
I started to say he had no option, that the car was a lethal weapon which could kill somebody, but broke off as Luc’s phone rang. Grabbing it, he glanced at the screen and then looked at me.
‘It seems they’ve saved me the bother. It’s the police.’
‘No, I don’t believe it. I couldn’t understand what you were saying in French on the phone, but you’ve got it wrong.
He can’t be; Tom can’t be dead.’ Getting up, I started pacing round and round the kitchen in agitated little circles.
Jumping to his feet, Luc seized my arms in a vice-like grip, holding me still.
‘Alix, his body has already been taken to the mortuary.’
‘But… but…what…’ I stared helplessly at him and then choked, unable to finish the question.
His face chalk-white, Luc asked it for me. ‘What happened?’
Very gently, he steered me back to my chair, pushed me down in it and sat down himself, holding both my hands.
‘The car left the road. On the Corniche.’ He spoke in short phrases, his voice low and expressionless. ‘It overturned. It caught fire. It’s burnt out.’
‘Nooo,’ I wailed. Shaking my head back and forth, I tried to release my hands, but he wouldn’t let them go.
‘Tom was thrown clear, Alix. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. But he broke his neck. I have to go and identify him in the morning.’
‘Oh, no.’ I stared at him in horror. ‘Is there nobody else who could do that? Hasn’t he any family here or a friend or just somebody other than you?’
‘No.’ He dropped his eyes. ‘I know for a fact that there’s no-one. He was completely alone in the world, or alone in France at least. The only people who had anything to do with him were us, all of us here at the Villa Matisse.’ Then he gave a groan. ‘God, does that make me feel bad.’
‘You feel bad? What about me? I was joking earlier,’ I said in agony.
‘I was actually joking about how you could get him to drive the car to the garage in the morning because it was a good way of getting rid of him. I feel as though it’s my fault, as though I’m to blame, to blame for him being killed. ’
‘But you didn’t mean anything bad. There’s no way you’re to blame. Nobody is. Except… oh, I’m not going to say this, but Tom brought it on himself.’
‘You did just say it.’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘As for me and my stupid joking, it’s high time I grew up and stopped playing the fool. It’s time I got serious.’
‘Stop it, Alix.’ Luc gripped my hands so tightly it hurt. ‘Stop this and listen. I know it’s terrible and I am genuinely, truly sorry he’s dead, but we both know Tom wasn’t a very nice man.’
‘He didn’t deserve to die!’
‘Of course he didn’t.’ Releasing me, he rose to his feet and then dithered a little as if uncertain as to what to say next. ‘Look, we’d better get some sleep,’ he said at last. ‘The police are sending a car to take me to the mortuary early tomorrow morning.’
Getting up, I moved to stand before him. ‘It is tomorrow morning,’ I said.
And then we were quiet, motionless, the silence mounting as our eyes locked and we saw each other as if for the first time. Luc drew a sudden deep breath.
‘Alix,’ he murmured. ‘Alix?’
I touched my fingertips to his mouth. ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘No more words. Just hold me.’