False Picture (19 page)

‘It can't be the picture. It's not big enough,' said Bea, thinking about drugs again. Oh, what had Philip got himself into?

Inside the box were some more bubble-wrapped packages, each one larger than the gold boxes they had uncovered before, but slimmer. Maggie unwrapped the first. A gold-framed miniature on ivory stared up at them, a sweet-faced, pink-cheeked young girl in a white mop cap with a pink bow on it.

‘What the …?'

Bea put on her reading glasses. She unwrapped another with fingers that trembled. Another miniature, this time of a young man in doublet and hose, leaning against a marble pillar. He was holding a carnation in one long-fingered hand. ‘Looks Tudor to me.'

Maggie swore under her breath.

Bea's mouth was dry. ‘Are these from a museum, do you think?'

Maggie dropped the miniature she'd been holding as if it had bitten her. ‘What do we do? Phone the police?'

Bea started to shake her head, reconsidered, and went back to shaking it. ‘Explanations would be difficult and you'd be owning up to smuggling. Let's think this through.' She went to the door, unlocked it. ‘We're assuming the stuff's genuine, but maybe it isn't. I've seen boxes like this in an exhibition in Somerset House, and their value is out of this world. I can't believe these are genuine. Perhaps they're copies with no real worth.' She hoped against hope that she was right. Bea held up the key. ‘I'm just going to get my handbag from next door, make one phone call. I'll lock you in till I get back, to make sure Herman doesn't get at you.'

Herman wasn't in the corridor. She didn't think he would have been. Erik the Red was far too cautious to allow that young man out of his sight again. Would it be a good idea to ask Erik to call the police? No. Definitely not. They'd be stuck this side of the Channel with a load of stolen goods, without any good explanation as to how they'd come by them. Of course, if Liam could be lured to Bruges so that the police could arrest his contact here … but first things first. She needed to find out if these really were stolen goods.

She found her mobile and the card Mr Goldstone had given her. Fortunately he was at home and willing to speak to her.

‘Mr Goldstone, I'm in Bruges trying to remedy a nasty situation which my young protégées have got themselves into. They were asked to carry presents through Customs for a friend … yes, I know, it was incredibly silly of them. One of the presents was supposed to be a valuable coffee set, a present for the friend's business contact over here. It turns out that the package contains gold boxes.'

The cracked, elderly voice put the right question. ‘How many?'

‘Nineteen.'

‘There should be twenty.'

‘Nineteen, each one swathed in bubble-wrap. There is also a box of miniatures. Do you know anything about those?'

The ancient voice grew stronger, reflecting the authority of the man. ‘My friend Leo was killed for a collection of miniatures a couple of months ago. My dear lady … my very dear lady … forgive me. I must sit down.'

‘I feel like that, too. Mr Goldstone, I was hoping they were just copies.'

He snorted. ‘Rubbish! Gold boxes. Miniatures. I'd need to have a sight of them to be sure, but under the circumstances I think I can say you have stumbled across the proceeds from two robberies.'

‘Yes.' Her voice faded. Oh, for a sip of water. She moved over to the table and poured herself a glass, blessing Erik, who never forgot that she and Hamilton always liked a couple of bottles of drinking water in their room.

He said, ‘Have you a phone with a camera? Could you send me photographs of what you've found?'

‘I'll see what I can do and ring you back.'

She returned to the girls' room, unlocking the door and locking it again behind her. Sweet chimes rang across the city. A quarter to six. There was a tense atmosphere in the room. Charlotte had her back to the room, talking on her mobile phone. Maggie was packing her bag, looking furious.

Bea said, ‘What's going on?'

Maggie shrugged. ‘I couldn't stop her. I turn my back for five seconds and she's on the phone, telling Liam everything!'

Bea drew in her breath. ‘Before we do anything else, we've got to find out if these things are worthless copies or not. Lay those two boxes out on the windowsill where the light's best, will you, Maggie?'

Charlotte had heard. She relayed the information to Liam, listened and then turned in triumph to say, ‘Of course they're only copies. How stupid of us not to realize.' She was flushed, with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, Liam, what a relief! You can't imagine what I've been thinking, worrying … so what time will you be able to pick us up? Shall we wait to have supper till you get here?'

Bea and Maggie exchanged eye-rolls.

Bea took photographs of the two boxes Maggie had unwrapped, turned them over to expose the hallmarks, and took more pictures. She sent the photos to Mr Goldstone.

He rang back straight away. His voice sounded strained. ‘Fabergé, yes. And the other … I can hardly believe what you've shown me. They are priceless, both of them. If the others are as good as those … I think I need a brandy!'

So did Bea. ‘Can you get me a description of everything that was taken in that particular robbery?'

Mr Goldstone grunted. ‘Of course. It won't take me long. In the meantime, would you send me pictures of the rest? Only nineteen, you say? I wonder what happened to the twentieth.'

‘The thief kept it for himself? As insurance against not getting a good price? Or perhaps he sent it over earlier, to prove he really had the goods? I really don't know. The other haul is perhaps even more important. I'll ring off and send you pictures of two of the miniatures.' She took photos of the miniatures, front and back, and sent them through to Mr Goldstone, who rang her back straight away.

‘Genuine,' he said. ‘Many, many times my friend Leo showed me his collection. I'd recognize them anywhere. Will you send me pictures of everything you've found? Then, if they're all genuine – and they look genuine to me – we have to decide what to do next. I've been trying to think … I have contacts with the police in various places, but not in Bruges.'

Despite her stated belief in Liam's innocence, Charlotte was hanging on to their every word, her face reflecting a swoop from hope to misery.

‘Mr Goldstone, let me phone you back about this,' said Bea. ‘In the meantime, may I ask you not to contact the police? Not until we've considered how best to get out of this tangle?'

‘You don't want the girls to suffer? I understand.' A pause, while all three women awaited his verdict. Finally he said, ‘If you involve the Belgian police, they will impound the goods and we won't see them again for years. Also the two girls will be arrested for smuggling. If you can get the goods back to Britain somehow or other, we might be able to hand them over to the authorities without involving your protégées.'

‘It's not that simple. If we inform the police over here, we may be able to trap the people who were supposed to relieve us of the goods.'

Mr Goldstone grunted, said, ‘Isn't it even more important to find out who is masterminding the thefts here in London? He's a killer, remember.'

Bea glanced at Charlotte, whose lower lip had come out. Charlotte was not going to help. Bea said, ‘Charlotte's friend Liam was doing a favour for someone else when he asked her to bring the goods over here for him, but we don't know who. Liam may or may not have known what was in the packages. I don't know what to do, either. There's no obvious right or wrong solution, is there?'

‘Keep me informed,' said Mr Goldstone, and switched off his phone. Bea switched hers off, too.

Charlotte was in tears. ‘I'm not going to lead Liam into a trap.' She pressed buttons on her mobile. ‘Liam, Liam. Answer the phone …'

Maggie made as if to stop Charlotte, but Bea held her back. ‘He already knows we've discovered what's in the boxes, so he's not going to show up here, is he?'

Charlotte got through. ‘At last! Listen, Liam, you're not to come to Bruges, do you hear? The police will be waiting … oh, right. That's good.' She deflated, her colour returning to normal. Listening to him, she turned away from the others to face the window, though she probably wasn't seeing anything of the beauty outside. ‘Yes, yes. I understand, of course I understand … no, of course you mustn't risk the police arresting you … as you say, it was all a joke that's gone wrong. If you could tell me who put you up to this, I'm sure that will help … you can't. Why not? … oh, I'm sure he wouldn't really do that. I mean … that's sick! No, of course I believe you, but … when shall I see you again? … oh, but … no, of course, but … Liam, you do love me, don't you?'

After listening to his reply, she dropped the phone, tears spurting. Throwing herself back on to the bed, she went into full-scale hysterics, feet thrashing away, hands clenched, eyes tightly closed, bawling her head off.

Maggie put her hands on her hips, appalled and astonished. Bea went into the bathroom, poured a glass of water, and threw it into Charlotte's face. The girl hiccupped and gradually calmed down, her colour returning to normal.

Bea said, ‘There's no point alerting the police this end. He's going straight back to London, isn't he?'

Charlotte hiccupped some more. ‘He says he won't be able to see me again … oh …!' Her voice rose again.

Bea said, ‘If you want some more water thrown over you …?'

Charlotte shook her head, trying to control herself. ‘He said not to ring him back, that he was going to throw away his mobile, that he was fooled into this by a friend, but he won't say who it was because he's frightened what the man might do. Liam says … he says this man is capable of killing! But I can't believe that … not really. He's just joking, isn't he? Anyway, it's quite clear that none of this is Liam's fault.'

Maggie didn't accept that. ‘Tcha! He knew we weren't carrying a coffee set and shortbread. He wrapped up the goods and gave them to us to carry, so how can he make out that he was fooled?'

‘Come to think of it,' said Bea, ‘how has he got hold of Zander's mobile phone?'

Charlotte held her bush of hair back from over her eyes. ‘I don't know, do I? Oh, maybe he did say … yes, he said that his phone was running out of power, so Zander lent him his. Zander was getting a company one for his new job in the Midlands.'

Bea sat down to think about this. The explanation didn't seem to hold water. Liam hadn't known his phone was out of juice until that morning when Bea had been at the flat to clean and overhead him talk to Charlotte. Zander had already left by that time, hadn't he? Although there was the question of Zander's shaving kit. What was going on there?

Charlotte wailed, ‘Everything's gone wrong. I was so looking forward to coming here and having a romantic evening with Liam, going on the boats and riding by moonlight in a horse-drawn carriage.'

Maggie was having none of it. ‘And being serenaded by a gigolo? Yes, I was looking forward to it, too.'

‘Zander wasn't in love with you, though. He was just passing the time. Liam really loved me.'

Both Maggie and Bea looked sceptical, but Charlotte was digging herself deep into the role of abandoned fiancée. She threw herself back on the bed, crying, ‘My own true love!'

Bea was about to fetch another glass of water when the internal phone rang. Being nearest, she answered it. It was Erik. ‘Is that Mrs Abbot? That young man is still here, waiting for the girls. He says he wants to take them out in his car to Damme for a meal. Shall I send him away?'

‘Tell him I'll be down in a moment.' She cradled the phone, thinking that she didn't like the sound of the girls being taken out to dine some miles out of Bruges, where streetlights might not penetrate the shadows between the ancient buildings. Yet if she voiced her doubts, Charlotte for one might easily take the opposite point of view and insist on going.

‘Girls, Herman's downstairs with a car to take you out to supper at Damme – that's a village some miles out of Bruges. Would it make you feel better to go?'

‘I couldn't face it,' wailed Charlotte, enjoying the role of lovelorn lass. ‘How could he possibly ask?'

‘Is the food good?' asked Maggie. ‘I'm hungry.'

Now it was Maggie who was feeling contrary enough to take the opposite viewpoint to Charlotte. Bea realized she'd have to handle the situation with care. ‘Damme has many excellent restaurants. Have you enough money to pay the bill, in case he defaults – as Liam has done?'

‘Herman wouldn't default,' said Maggie. ‘Why should he? He's invited us out to make up for the boys' running out on us. At least …'

Bea seized on that moment of doubt. ‘He's personable enough, and an evening out in Damme might be just fine, provided only that he isn't doing it to get at the “presents”. I don't suppose there would be much harm in your going, provided you don't let him get you alone in a dark alley. Oh, and you'd better take enough money with you to cover the bill at the restaurant and a taxi back. Just in case.'

Maggie sank on to a chair, thinking about this. ‘No, Mrs Abbot, you're right. It's not a good idea. Anyway,' here she looked at her fellow traveller in mingled pity and dislike, ‘I don't think Charlotte's up to it.'

‘Of course I am.' Charlotte sat upright, reaching for a tissue and blowing her nose. Her skin was blotchy and she looked a mess, but in her present mood she was as determined to oppose Maggie as Maggie was to oppose her. ‘Just give me ten minutes to get myself organized.'

Bea held back a sigh. ‘How about I go down and tell him you're still getting ready, but would prefer to dine somewhere within walking distance? If he insists the “presents” are handed over to him before he takes you out, then we'll know he's only inviting you out to get at the treasures. Is that all right by you?'