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He returned to his own car, exited the car park and crawled up the long steep slope back into town until he reached Queen Street. An auction house had its headquarters there, and Fox seemed to remember they specialised in paintings. He didn’t have any trouble finding a parking bay. Drivers were either counting the pe
‘Can I help?’ the woman behind the counter asked.
‘I hope so,’ Fox said. ‘I’m a police officer.’ In lieu of a warrant card, he offered her one of his printed business cards. They were about three years out of date, but looked nice and official. ‘I’ve got a problem I’m hoping one of your experts can help me with.’
The woman, having studied his card, asked him to wait while she fetched someone. The man who eventually appeared was younger than Fox had been expecting. He wore a pinstriped shirt and pale yellow tie and shook hands vigorously, introducing himself as Alfie Re
‘What is it I can do for you?’ Re
‘It’s about some paintings.’
‘Modern or classical?’
‘Modern, I think.’
Re
‘Nothing like that,’ Fox assured him. The young man looked relieved.
‘It happens, you know,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘People try to offload all kinds of stuff on us. Follow me, will you?’
He led Fox towards the back of the premises until they reached a stairwell. A red rope provided the sole deterrent to anyone wishing to descend to the next level, and Re
‘Sale coming up,’ Re
They reached his office, which consisted of two rooms knocked into one. Fox had believed them below ground, but there were frosted windows, albeit barred on the outside.
‘This was somebody’s house at one time,’ Re
‘Exquisite, isn’t it? A French plage by Peploe. I can hardly bear to part with it.’
Fox knew next to nothing about art, but he liked the thick swirls of paint. They reminded him of melting ice cream. ‘Is it going into the sale?’
Re
‘Thousand?’ Fox gazed at the work with new respect, mixed with a stu
Re
‘Have you heard of a man called Charles Brogan?’
‘Alas, yes – the latest victim of our challenging times.’
‘But you knew of him before he drowned?’
Re
‘You’re saying he bought from you?’
‘And from some of the city’s actual galleries,’ Re
‘You’ve seen his collection?’
‘Much of it.’
‘Had he started selling it off?’
Re
‘We’re looking into the reasons why he would kill himself. You mentioned finances, and it’s just that Mr Brogan’s decision to sell his paintings might chime with that theory.’
Re
‘Some pieces he sent to London; some he sold here. Three or four are actually consigned to our next auction. Naturally, we’ll hold them back until we know what his estate wants us to do.’
‘How many are we talking about in total?’
Re
‘Worth…?’ Fox prompted.
Re
‘I hope he didn’t buy at the height of the market.’
‘Unfortunately, mostly he did. He was selling at a loss.’
‘Meaning he was desperate?’
‘I would say so.’
Fox thought for a moment. ‘Have you ever met Mr Brogan’s wife?’
‘She accompanied him to a sale once. I don’t think it was an experience she was keen to repeat.’
‘Not an art-lover, then?’
‘Not in so many words.’
Fox smiled and started getting to his feet. ‘Thanks for taking the trouble to talk to me, Mr Re
‘My pleasure, Inspector.’
As they shook hands, Fox took a final look at the Peploe.
‘You’re thinking of melted ice cream?’ Re
‘Fifty grand buys a lot of Cornettos,’ Fox told the man.
‘Maybe so, but what would their resale value be, Inspector?’
Re
17
Fox was parked fifty yards from Minter’s when Naysmith and Gilchrist arrived. They’d come by taxi, obviously intending to have more than just the one drink; no driving home for either of them. Fox gave it another twenty minutes, by which time Kaye, too, had arrived, parking on a double yellow and slapping his POLICE sign on the windscreen. He was checking messages on his phone as he headed inside. Fox was listening to Radio 2, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. But when a quiz was a
‘And the city centre is its usual rush-hour mayhem,’ the report concluded. Fox felt snug in the parked car, cosseted from chaos. But the time came to turn off the radio and get out. He’d finally plucked up the courage to send A
Hope u can forgive me. Wd like us 2 b pals.
He wasn’t sure now about the ‘pals’ bit. He was attracted to her, but had never had much luck with women, Elaine excepted – and even that had proved to be a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t A
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me,’ the voice said.
‘A
‘Well, I’m sorry I blew up at you. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight. Duncan had got me wound up as usual.’ Fox waited for more, but she had come to a stop.