Chapter Forty
Eden called James to update him. “Hi, James. DS Archer decided she would like to do some background checks off her own bat and came up with something regarding one of the antique dealers that might be relevant. DCI is keeping a close eye on me so I’ll have to concentrate on some of the other cases that are clogging up my in-tray. I’ll send the info that Tracy came up with and leave it with you.”
“Thanks Eden. I’m just about to go and visit the lady who Peter Winston-Moore bought the Picasso from. I thought it might be a good idea to work from the beginning and re-trace everything step by step. Winston-Moore obviously upset a lot of people over the years. So I would like to try and get some more background on the way he operated.”
“Okay James. I can’t imagine she’s got anything relevant but I’ll leave you to it. Let me know what she has to say.”
James knew the area well. He had lived just a couple of streets away with his family before they were killed in the hit and run. Visiting the area brought back mixed emotions. He found a parking space right outside of number sixty-four and walked up the path noting the poor condition of the outside of the property.
He tapped on the glass panel of the door as he’d rung the bell and it didn’t appear to be working.
“Hello, Mrs Brown. I'm James Sheldon. I phoned you earlier about having a brief chat.”
“Yes, dear. Please come in.”
As he followed June Brown, she led him to the kitchen. “I’d normally take you through to the lounge but I'm in a bit of a mess at the moment, dear. We had a small get together with friends last night and I haven’t had a chance to clear it up yet. It's probably best we sit in here. Can I get you a nice cup of tea or coffee?”
“A cup of tea would go down a treat. Thank you.”
He watched as June put the kettle on and then turned to the cupboard next to the sink and pulled out a mug. James noticed she also reached into the next cupboard across and took out a tea bag. Her fingers seemed stiff and difficult to move. He guessed Mrs Brown suffered from some form of arthritis.
The kettle boiled and she poured the water into the mug. The table already had a carton of milk and a cup with small sachets of sugar and sweeteners. “Please help yourself to milk and sugar, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs Brown.”
“Oh please, call me June.”
“Okay, June. As I mentioned on the telephone I just want to ask you about the man who purchased the paintings from you. I know it was some time ago but anything you can remember might help us.”
“Yes, I remember. It wasn't a good time. We needed money for a family emergency so I sold just about everything I had: my late husband’s record collection, his tools, the paintings. We even sold the car just to raise some money. I wasn't sure where to sell the paintings then I got a leaflet through the door saying this London man would pay the best prices. Knowing how expensive that place is I knew he would give a better price than anyone local so I called him up and he came round. He was a nice man. Very, what's the word, refined? That's it, refined. He stayed and we chatted and he paid me in cash there and then. My late husband had said one of the paintings was valuable and the man gave me £4,000 for it. He said the other paintings were not as collectable and gave me £120 for them. After that I never saw him again. Is there a problem, dear?”
“No, Mrs Brown. I’m just trying to find the history of the painting.”
“I couldn't really say, dear. Larry, that’s my late husband, was given the painting before we got married. Even before we started courting. He mentioned it was when he went to the South of France with some of his friends. He saved a boy from drowning and his father gave Larry the painting as a thank you. He even wrote a message on the back but it was all in French. Not sure what it said. Nothing important I expect just ‘thank you’.
“Larry always said we should keep it for a family emergency. He seemed to think it was valuable but then he died in a car accident you see. Without him, my daughter and I struggled to get by. Then she got married and moved out and had Kim. But Dee and her husband David split up. Then of course Kim got ill. We needed to find money for her treatment but we couldn't raise enough so instead we treated her to a holiday at Euro Disney. She loved it. You should have seen her little face, bless her. It was a picture. Then she got very ill and that was that.”
“Can I ask you what happened? If it's too painful just say so.”
“No, no, dear. My granddaughter had a rare illness. She was only ten. There was nothing we could do. We couldn't afford the treatment that might have given her a chance. Then she passed away last year. A day I'll never forget. The twenty-seventh of March. She was such a little angel. My daughter was in pieces, well, we both were. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm getting emotional on you.” June took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “Still, you can't dwell on the past can you, dear. What's done is done. I've still got my daughter and we get by. It’s difficult but we survive. I told the man who bought the paintings all about her illness and the problems. He listened and was very nice but of course he couldn't do anything. Then
