The MJA housing trust had offices on Sidney Street, and two extra offices had been taken on for the investigation business, with the rent subsidised by James.
James had been in his office for most of the late afternoon, reviewing the files and making notes.
Eden Gold as a detective working on the case had full access to police files and at the request of James had done some searches and passed on the results.
He started by searching for background on the victim, Peter Winston-Moore. It showed he didn’t have a criminal record either with his current name or before he had changed it from Peter Moore by deed poll some years back. However, it did flag up details of an allegation that had been made against him three years prior. It seems at the time the police had investigated but no charges were ever brought.
Based on this new information, James decided it would be worth a visit down to London to informally interview the three antique dealers known as The Three Musketeers.
He telephoned the three men and they had agreed to see him. The first on his list was Victor Athos and the interview would take place at his antiques shop in London’s Shepherds Bush.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Athos Antiques was situated a few yards off one of the main roads that passed through Shepherds Bush towards Acton and Ealing. James managed to find a parking meter that allowed him to stay for up to two hours. He thought that would be enough.
The shop had a white facade with the name above in blue lettering. There were a row of shops and each side were doors that led to the apartments situated on the two floors above.
James had looked for reviews of the shop on Google. There was only one with five stars that read ‘An Aladdin's cave of treasures and always new things on display with extremely helpful and knowledgeable staff.’
He wondered if the review had been placed by a customer or more likely the shop owner.
He entered and a man matching the description he had seen in the file came over.
“Hello, are you Victor Athos?”
“Yes I am. You must be the gentleman I spoke to earlier.”
“Yes, I’m James Sheldon. And thank you for agreeing to see me today.”
“Not a problem. Shall we go through to the office, it’s more comfortable in there and the kettle has just boiled.”
Victor poured two cups of tea and then sat facing James.
“As I explained on the phone, I’m working with Norman Gentle’s lawyer to see if we have the full picture with the murder of Peter Winston-Moore and I appreciate your time. I only have a few questions relating to what I’ve come across since you spoke to the police on Friday. I know some of the questions you’ve already answered but it would be most helpful if we could go over them again. As it’s been a few days your mind might have possibly recalled something you didn’t think of at the time. Can you start by telling me how you first met Peter Winston-Moore?”
“I’ve known, sorry… knew him for about eight years. I first met him when he sold me some items he said were genuine Clarice Cliff. He told me he had purchased them from a house clearance. I was new to the trade so I took him at his word. They turned out to be fake reproductions from China. Then I saw him at some auctions and as I got to know my way around the trade and spoke to other dealers I learned about his reputation and I tried to avoid him as much as possible, but he's, sorry was, a difficult person to avoid.”
James made some notes on his pad and then asked.
“What about more recently, have you had any dealings with him?”
“No. It’s just that over the past few months he suddenly found lots of nice, often quite rare, items, real genuine items, not the fake ones, and he was making a lot of money. You must have heard he found a Picasso and sold it for millions. Ever since then he seemed to have the knack. None of them were in the same league as the painting but nonetheless good solid stock usually worth a few hundred or a few thousand.”
“You mentioned the Picasso. Can you tell me anything else about it?”
“He told everyone he found it in a junk shop somewhere in Trentbridge but after a while nobody believed him because of all the other stuff he kept coming up with. So I wanted to know, well, to be honest, we all wanted to find out how he was doing it. The three of us just about manage to scrape a living and there he was driving a bloody Bentley. So we followed him to Trentbridge to try to discover what he got up to. He found the painting there but no one could figure out how he did it. It was driving us nuts.”
“Okay, thank you for giving such a clear account. Now, as part of my investigation, I’ve discovered that in July 2015 you reported him to the police. You allege he stole a considerable sum of money from you. Can you tell me about that?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. James could tell it was obviously a sore point.
“Yes. He came into the shop one afternoon when I had a customer who wanted to sell some highly valuable items. We agreed a price but the guy wanted cash. It was late in the day so I couldn’t get to the bank before they closed. We agreed he would come in the next day at noon and I’d pay him. All through the books, you understand. Nothing underhand going on. Anyway, Winston-Moore was looking round the shop and
