False Picture (16 page)

‘He's quite all right,' said Bea. ‘Hungover, but recovering. He woke up and found me cleaning the place ten minutes ago and told me to get out. I really can't go back.'

‘N-no, I suppose not.' Maggie didn't sound too sure about that. ‘The thing is, we know the hotel's called The Belfry, so we can sign in there when we arrive, but we're supposed to meet this friend of his at six and if Liam's going to be late, we won't recognize him, will we? Liam's friend, I mean. It wouldn't matter really except that it's a business thing and we've got Liam's presents for the man. Oh, I do hope Liam manages to get the next train, but even so, he's not going to be here for hours, is he?'

A prickle ran up and down Bea's back. The girls were carrying presents for someone they didn't know?

Maggie suddenly sounded brighter. ‘Oh, Charlotte's just had a text from Liam. He's catching the 12.57 train. So that's all right. Sorry to have whinged.' She cut the phone off.

Bea stared at her mobile, cut the call and rushed up the road and into the house looking for Oliver.

‘Oliver, what do you think of this? The two girls have arrived in Belgium without Zander – who's got to work – and also without Liam, who says he's joining them later. They're carrying gifts for a business friend of Liam's. What does that sound like to you?'

Oliver's swarthy skin took on a yellow tinge. ‘Drugs! Tell me it's not true! They've really been stupid enough to carry gifts through Customs for someone else? Someone who didn't even travel with them?'

Bea sat down on the nearest chair with a bump. ‘I hadn't thought of drugs, but of course it's possible. I was thinking it might be the stolen Millais. They could have cut the picture from the frame, rolled it up and put it in one case, and the frame – dismantled – may be in the other.'

‘What!' He gaped. ‘But … they wouldn't carry stolen goods out of the country, would they? That would make them accessories to murder!'

Bea ran her hand through her fringe, sweeping it across her forehead. ‘It might not be that, it might be drugs, but … which is worse?'

Oliver tried to rise to his feet, and sat down again, both hands holding on to his desk. ‘We've got to stop them.'

‘How? They must be nearly at Bruges by now.'

‘I'll get the next train. Oh, I can't. No passport. I was on my father's passport for years and then we didn't go abroad for some time and I always meant to apply for … I'm rambling.' Oliver ground his teeth. ‘How could Maggie have been so stupid!'

‘She's in love.'

‘Which won't prevent her from spending some years in jail if what we suspect is true. The first thing Customs ask is, “Did you pack your case yourself?” And what will silly Maggie say? “Yes, of course,” she'll say. And they'll have her banged up in no time. The stupid, stupid …!'

‘It may not be drugs. It may be the picture. On balance, I hope it's the picture. My first thought was to ring the policeman I met the other day, he's not too bright but adequate. Only, that would be pointing him in the direction of Maggie and maybe the girls are only carrying tins of shortbread and … what was it? Some kind of expensive coffee service? I'm burbling. We don't
know
that they're carrying drugs. We don't
know
anything. It could all be perfectly innocent.'

‘You don't believe that, and neither do I.'

Her mind was made up. ‘I've got a passport. I'd better go after them. See if you can get me a slot on the train to take the car over. Or would it be quicker to fly? Can you find out for me? What will I need? Some Euros. No, wait. There are some in the safe for emergencies. For everything else, I can use my cards. See what you can unearth for me while I throw a few things together.'

She told herself not to panic, but couldn't help thinking that the facts pointed to danger. First Philip and the picture had disappeared. Now the two girls had been conned into carrying who knew what through Customs, without either of their menfolk to look after them. Zander had drifted off and Liam … who knew what scenario Liam had in mind? Would he really catch the next Eurostar train as promised?

This is crazy, Bea said to herself. I'm sure the girls are all right, and there's a perfectly good explanation for the men's behaviour. I hope.
Dear Lord, let it be so. And if there is something wrong, show me how to deal with it.

She threw some things into an overnight bag – she had to use Hamilton's, since Maggie had taken hers – and hurried downstairs to hear the good news and the bad from Oliver. ‘I can't get you a slot to take the car over on the train. Fully booked, middle of holidays. The ferry would take too long. No seats for the plane till later this evening, and anyway, it takes ages to get to and from the airport this end and in Belgium. So I've got you a first class ticket on Eurostar, leaving just before one, arriving in Brussels two hours later.'

‘That's the one Liam's supposed to be taking. Maybe I'll run into him on the train … but no, I doubt if he'll travel first class. We may well arrive in Bruges at the same time. It's going to be an interesting confrontation, isn't it?'

‘What's the name of the hotel they're booked into?'

‘The Belfry. I can't remember a hotel called The Belfry, but that's what he said.'

‘It's the height of the tourist season. You usually stay somewhere else …?'

‘The Europ. It's a bit further out, quiet, overlooking a canal, a family-run place. I'm sure they'll find me a room if they can. Can you get online to them? Or ring them. One of the big rooms at the top, if possible. How are we off for money?'

Oliver handed over two envelopes. ‘One for euros, and one for sterling. The cab's booked and will be here straight away. Anything else?'

‘A spot of prayer might come in handy.' She didn't know why she'd said that. She didn't know if Oliver believed in God or not. Anyway, it was said, and he didn't look astonished, so maybe it would be all right.

She didn't spot Liam in the departure area at St Pancras, but there were so many passengers milling about that she might well have missed him. She bought a newspaper to hide behind just in case. As they pulled out of the station, she rang Maggie. Ought she to warn the girls that they might be carrying a couple of bombs in their luggage?

‘It's me, Mrs Abbot. I'm following your advice and taking a few days off in Bruges, hoping to arrive about five your time. Where are you now?'

‘There's a thing!' shrieked Maggie, loud enough to make Bea to cower in her seat. ‘Are you really coming, too? Charlotte, my boss is on her way over. Won't that be fun? Hi, Mrs Abbot, where are you staying? We've been trying to find this hotel that Liam booked us into but we think he's given us the wrong name, because there isn't one called The Belfry, though there is one just behind the belfry, which is a huge tower in the centre, and there are several hotels all round it, but so far we've not found one that knows anything about us …'

What on earth was Liam playing at?

Maggie was close to tears, but trying to laugh with it. ‘… So here we are, sitting in the most amazing square, really stunning, the sun is shining, we're being chatted up by some husky Germans and a silky Italian … yes, we were, Charlotte. I know you are only waiting for your loved one, but I quite fancied the … yes, all right. Keep to the point. Well, the thing is, Mrs Abbot, that we're in a bit of a fix. I'm dying to dump the luggage somewhere and go off to do some sightseeing but Charlotte insists we have to sit here like lemons till Liam turns up and we haven't a clue when that's going to be … yes, all right, Charlotte, I'm not moaning but it is true, you know.'

Bea tried to think. ‘It sounds as if there's been some mix-up over the hotel reservations. Listen, I'm booked into a quiet place that we always used to stay at. Let me ring them and see if they can fit you up for tonight, just till Liam arrives to sort things out.' This would at least get the girls and their suspect luggage off the streets. ‘I'll ring you back in a few minutes.' She killed the call before Maggie could protest that Liam would see them right.

Had she got her address book in her bag? Thankfully, yes. She got through to the hotel and yes, they'd booked her usual room for her, one of the family rooms on the top floor overlooking the canal. And yes, the one beside it was vacant if she would like to book it for her friends. What were their names? Delighted. They'd be arriving soon? Good. And yes, they had remembered that she liked an extra pillow on her bed, and a bottle of mineral water in her room.

Their thoughtfulness made Bea feel better. Hamilton had always booked them the same room at the top of the ancient building, because he liked its spaciousness and the way the ceiling was crisscrossed by huge wooden beams. Would she feel strange there now that she was a solitary widow? She told herself, You must look forward as much as you can.

She rang Maggie back. ‘All fixed up. If you're in the Markt there's always a taxi or two cruising around by the post office. Take one to the Europ Hotel – the taxi will know where it is. I've booked you into a double room on the top floor, en suite. This will leave you free to dump your luggage, freshen up and do some sightseeing before Liam arrives. You can always fetch the presents for Liam's friends after you've made contact with him, can't you?'

There was a stir on the train. Bea added, ‘We're just going into the tunnel now and I won't be able to use my phone for a bit, so …'

The signal cut off. Bea told herself to keep calm and everything would be all right. She remembered Velma and Sandy for the first time in hours and wondered if he were still on the operating table, and how Velma was coping.

Food was being served. And wine. Bea decided to forgo the wine, and to make some notes in case she had to call on the police to get the girls out of this mess. She needed to get it clear in her own mind, too. Paper? A pen? Where was the little notebook that always travelled with her? Not there. Sometimes she popped a notebook into the outside pocket of her overnight bag … but she'd got Hamilton's instead of her own and … ah, a notebook. His notebook.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. She'd bought this red leather-covered book for him at Smythson's three Christmases ago, knowing how he appreciated quality in everything he used. He'd used it as a commonplace book, to make notes when he was away from his computer, lists of things to do, odd reflections that had occurred to him about people, about life. He'd always used a black ink pen, his handwriting square, very deliberate.

On the first page he'd written his name, address and gone on to add ‘The World, The Universe', just as small children did. Next there came a list of people they ought to send postcards to when they went on holiday. He must have popped it into his overnight bag, forgetting that they'd decided at the last minute to take only two large suitcases with them on their round the world trip. He'd never use it again.

She turned her head to the window, to the blank black tunnel wall, her throat closing up. She didn't realize she was crying until one of the train attendants asked her if she were all right. She forced herself to smile and nod.

She unclasped her fingers from round the book, found the first clean page, and jotted down everything she could remember people had said about Philip and the missing picture. Hamilton wouldn't have wanted her to waste the book. Hamilton would have wanted her to be methodical, to take notes, to double-check. Hamilton had inscribed a short prayer on the inside of the front cover. ‘Dear Lord, be with me in all I say and do today.'

An appropriate prayer for all occasions.

One hour from leaving St Pancras and they were in France and approaching Lille. Oh, the flat, flat fields of France and Flanders … so different from the rolling English countryside. Once they'd left Lille, she tried Maggie again. ‘Have you found the hotel, Maggie?'

‘We've just got into the room. Wow! What a stunning view! Yes, it is, Charlotte. Don't be silly. Mrs Abbot, it's very good of you to go to so much trouble, but when Liam arrives Charlotte will want to be with him, though as Zander's not coming, maybe I'll … but we'll have to wait and see what he says. We don't mean to sound ungrateful, but you do understand, don't you?'

‘Of course. Leave a note at the desk as to where you'll be, and I'll try to catch up with you.'

Maggie's voice went faint. ‘Hang about … Charlotte's phone's making noises …' A pause, and Maggie came back to Bea. ‘Charlotte's just got a text through from … who did you say? From Zander? Why is he …? Oh!' A pause, and then Maggie came through to Bea again. ‘Zander's just texted Charlotte to say that Liam's missed the one o'clock train but will definitely be on the one leaving about two. Which means he won't be here till about half past six. I wish he'd texted me! I'd have given him a piece of my mind!'

Bea said, ‘Yes, but Charlotte shouldn't—'

Maggie wasn't listening. Her voice came ever more faintly. ‘Look, Charlotte, look out of the window. Wow, we're right by the canal. Aren't these little bridges just dinky, and look … there are swans on the water … and ducks, too …'

Maggie cut the call as Bea's train drew smoothly into Brussels station. Bea collected her overnight bag and alighted, trusting that Maggie would prevail upon Charlotte to abandon her lovelorn wait for her swain. Now for the next train to Bruges.

Rafael was furious. It was bad enough that Liam had muffed the disposal of the body, but the loon had failed to clear the flat of Zander's belongings last night. His excuse? He'd been so tired he'd fallen asleep! Rafael would give Liam ‘falling asleep' when this business was done and dusted. How could he have been so stupid! And letting the battery on his mobile phone get so low that he had to use Zander's! Of all the cretinous …!