“No thank you, June. In fact, I must make a move. I've got another appointment and chatting to you has been so lovely I might be a little late. But it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”
“Yes, dear, and it was lovely to meet you. You're welcome to call again but I'm really not sure if I've been any help. Next time you might meet my daughter.”
“That would be nice. Perhaps next time. Thank you for the tea, June.”
As he walked towards the front door, James peeked into the front room. Mrs Brown was right. It looked a mess. Like the aftermath of a party. Mrs Brown was old and he could see she moved rather slowly.
James gave her a kiss on the cheek as he left her standing at the front door waving as he walked back to his car.
Such a nice young man, Mrs Brown thought as she wandered back into the kitchen.
As James walked to his car he checked his phone and saw a message with an attachment.
After downloading and reading what it said he sent Eden a text message.
“Hi, Eden, I just got the info Tracy sent. Considering the way Winston-Moore was killed I think it calls for another visit to a certain antiques dealer. After that there's one final thing I want to check out and then I think I may have some news for you.”
Chapter Forty-One
James dialled a number on his mobile. “Hello. It’s James Sheldon. I came and saw you the other day. Some new information has come to light and I wondered if you would be kind enough to spare me a few minutes. I’ll be in London in around three hours. Would it be possible to meet? I wouldn’t ask but it is extremely important. Thank you. Bye.”
Three hours later, James found a parking space right in front of the antiques shop at number seven. As he walked through the front door the antique dealer he had come to see walked over.
“Nice motor. I thought you told me you were a former police officer. Must be one hell of a pension.”
At that point, the two men shook hands.
“Hello, Mr Longhurst. Actually after I left the police I was homeless for a while but then I won a bit of cash on the Lotto. On my old salary I wouldn’t even have been able to afford to fill the fuel tank.”
Robin Longhurst laughed. “You would need to be a Lotto winner to afford one of those.
“Yes, indeed. And thanks again for seeing me at short notice. Out of courtesy I wanted to have a word with you to go over something that has come to light, before the police get involved.”
Robin nodded. “I’ll certainly help you if I can.”
“The police have been looking into Mr Winston-Moore’s financial affairs and on his bank statements there are regular monthly payments you made to him every month. Now I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation but I do still have to investigate all lines of inquiry. So I wonder if you can tell me what these payments were for.”
“As I’ve already told the police, I often purchased stock from him. So they must be for the items I bought.”
”If you were buying stock from Mr Winston-Moore as you say, can you explain why the amounts you paid were exactly the same every month?”
“Some of them I couldn’t afford to pay him in full so he said I could pay him monthly. A sort of loan re-payment scheme.”
“Mr Longhurst, I would remind you this is a murder enquiry. So far the police aren’t looking into this aspect any deeper and if we can work this out between the two of us and nothing illegal has occurred then I’ll do my best to keep it that way. But if I feel you are leading me on then I do have to report it to the police and I’m sure you don’t want them turning up at your shop, do you? We both know Mr Winston-Moore wasn’t the sort of person to help anyone out with offering monthly payments and loans. Now. Shall we start again? Why were you paying Mr Winston-Moore every month?”
“Alright. If you want the truth he was a nasty piece of work and he was blackmailing me. It started three years ago, before he found the Picasso and made millions I thought it would stop after that but it didn’t. I pleaded with him and said he didn’t need the money anymore. But he just laughed and said it would pay for the petrol for his Bentley. But I didn’t have anything to do with his murder. You must believe me.”
“What was he blackmailing you about?”
“I’d been attending an evening auction near Chiswick and witnessed someone being stabbed. So I went to help. Winston-Moore was at the auction and left at the same time as me. He saw what happened but just stood back and didn’t try to help or anything. The knife was lying next to the guy as I tried to stop the bleeding. I inadvertently picked it up not thinking my fingerprints would then be on it. Peter took it off me, I assumed to give to the police, but he didn’t. He said he would tell the police I’d had an argument with the guy and stabbed him. The man died in hospital. He said the knife had the victim’s blood and my fingerprints on it and if I didn’t pay him he would send it to the police.
“So I paid him every month. I figured what if I was found guilty. And besides, it was cheaper than a trial and the cost of defending myself. That’s what he
