44 Scotland Street

“I read,” she said. “I happen to own some books. I read them.

Nothing odd in that.”

“Lou’s great that way,” said Ronnie. “No, don’t laugh, Pete.

You and me are ignorant. Put us in a pub quiz and we’d be laughed off the stage. Put Lou on and she’d win. I respect her for that. No, I really do.”

“Thank you,” said Lou. “Akrasia is an interesting thing. I’d never really thought about it before, but now . . .”

She was interrupted by the arrival of Matthew, who slammed the door behind him as he came in and turned to face his friends, flushed with excitement.

“A break-in,” he said. “Wood all over the place. The cops have been.”

They looked at him in silence.

“The gallery?” asked Pete.

Matthew moved over towards the counter. “Yes, the gallery.

They were disturbed, thank God, and nothing was taken. I could have lost everything.”

“Bad luck,” said Ronnie. “That might have helped.”

84

Peploe?

There was a silence. Big Lou glared at Ronnie, who lowered his gaze. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I meant to say that it was bad luck that they tried to break in. That’s what I meant.” He paused. “What else could I have meant? Why the sensitivity?”

Matthew said nothing. “They could have taken the Peploe. In fact, I reckon that’s what they were after.”

Pete looked up. “The one worth forty grand?”

“Yes,” said Matthew. “They must have been after that. All the rest is rubbish.”

Ronnie looked thoughtful. “That character wanting to buy the painting the other day – he must be the one. Who else knows about it?”

Matthew frowned. “Nobody, as far as I know. Just us.”

“Then, it’s him,” said Ronnie.

“Or one of us,” said Big Lou, looking at Pete.

Nobody spoke. Big Lou turned to make Matthew his coffee.

“Not a serious remark,” she said. “It just slipped out.”

“Weakness of the will?” said Ronnie.

33. Peploe?

“This is no time for levity,” said Matthew. “The fact is, somebody is after my Peploe.”

“If it’s a Peploe,” interrupted Ronnie. “You don’t know, do you? So far, the only person who’s said it’s a Peploe is that girl, Pat. And what does she know about it? And you know nothing, as we all know.”

“All right,” said Matthew. “We’ll call it my Peploe? That is, Peploe with a question mark after it. Satisfied? Right then, what do we do?”

“Remove it from the gallery,” suggested Pete. “Take it home.

Put it in a cupboard. Nobody’s going to think there’s a Peploe?

in your cupboard.”

Big Lou had been following the conversation closely and had Peploe?

85

stopped wiping the counter. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “If this person – the one who was interested in it – is really after it, then he’ll have found out who Matthew is. Are you in the phone book, Matthew?”

Matthew nodded.

“Well, there you are,” said Lou. “He’ll know where you live.

And if he was prepared to break into your gallery, then he’ll be prepared to break into your flat. Take the Peploe? somewhere else.”

“The bank,” said Pete. “I knew this guy who kept a Charles Rennie Mackintosh bureau in the Bank of Scotland. It was so valuable that he couldn’t afford the insurance. It was cheaper to keep it in the bank.”

“What’s the point of that?” asked Lou, frowning. “What’s the point of having a bureau if you can’t use it?”

“They’d keep kippers in it up in Arbroath,” said Ronnie.

“Smokies even.”

“What do you know about Arbroath?” asked Lou. “You tell me. What do you know about Arbroath?”

Pete answered for him. “Nothing. He’s never been there.”