Silver Guilt (5 page)

‘I'm sure there are lots of cheap food outlets if you take the indoor walkway to the station,' Nella declared. ‘The restaurant upstairs is a minimum spend of £12, I'm afraid.'

Patronizing cow.

I nodded, as if I didn't know about the expensive catering that always accompanied posh antique fairs, and mooched off. I'd spent so much effort weaning Lord Elham off unhealthy food I wasn't about so succumb to rubbish now. But a brisk walk in the open air would be nice, particularly if it led me to a salad bar or at least a decent sarnie. As I turned up my collar and pulled on my gloves – if you're dealing with precious goods you don't risk numb fingers – I realized I wasn't the only one on the move. The two guys who'd taken such a shine to our display were going walkabout too. Just for fun I tried to follow them. After all, one young woman head down and hunched against the wind must look much like another.

I was doing pretty well, I thought, until I realized they were leading me to the car park. So that was that. At least they wouldn't be bothering us any more. I could do an about-turn and head back to base. But I didn't see them drive off. All they did was sit in the car and make a phone call. Just on the off-chance – of what I wasn't at all sure – I jotted down their car reg. And then, my stomach saying that exercise was all very well, I turned back. I'd just got level with the courtesy bus shelter when a bus drew up. I wasn't going to get on – well, it was only a step to the hall – but I noticed that Bill and Ben were active again. They were walking briskly back to the hall.

I thought I'd beat them to it – easily. But it seemed the bus had to stick to a ten-minute schedule, and there I sat, fuming.

I found an empty table in the refreshment area and sat down. If I was paying through the nose for my sandwich I might as well take advantage of the facilities. The pianist was still toiling away. He'd moved on to
Porgy and Bess
, and some of Griff's favourite tunes
.
Tapping my foot, I unwrapped the sandwich – and my phone rang.

It was Nella. ‘Come here this instant!' She did not sound happy.

T
he two men I'd tailed were back, both, even the good-looking one, looking stern as they spoke to Nella, who was holding something in both hands. Nella was furious, but also, I thought, embarrassed. Perhaps furious was winning.

She put something down so that she could point at me, her voice carrying easily but foolishly. It was she, not the men, who were attracting attention. ‘Handling stolen goods, indeed! It's she you need to speak to, not me. That Townend girl.' The quiver of her hand made her diamonds sparkle beautifully.

A few years ago, I'd have bolted, and to hell with it. That was what feral kids did, and even if I'd never been quite that bad, I spent enough time living on the edge of the law to know a few unpleasant dodges. I could have tripped people, tipped stands, done whatever it took. And don't think I didn't want to now. But I wouldn't. Neither would I burst into tears or wet myself with fear, no matter how much effort it took.

If Lord Elham had taught me anything, it was to look calm, and even be a bit high-handed in dealings with the police. Griff, on the other hand, preferred to woo them, if they were young and handsome enough. I don't think that just now he'd have felt drawn to either of these.

‘I'm Lina Townend,' I said, with a smile I wouldn't let wobble, no matter how hard my heart was thumping. ‘How can I help?'

Did I see doubt in the eyes of the younger cop? ‘We have reason to believe you are handling stolen goods.'

‘Everything else I can guarantee, officers,' Nella declared, cutting across him. ‘This is a LAPADA fair, you know. We have to know the provenance of everything. You can check my paperwork. All of it.'

What would Griff do? He'd give another winsome smile, only he'd speak man to man. I'd better speak woman to man. ‘You've had your noses glued to the big display case all morning, haven't you?' I asked them both, with a pale copy of Griff's smile. Let them register they'd not been as clever as they thought.

They didn't smile back. ‘I repeat, we have reason to believe you're handling stolen goods,' said the older one, his eye decidedly cold.

‘That's a very serious—' I'd forgotten the word.

‘Indeed it is,' Nella snapped. ‘And one likely to ruin my business. Now you have Ms Townend in custody, officers, kindly interview her well away from here.' She made little shooing gestures. ‘Security must have a room somewhere, for goodness' sake.'

I was so angry that the missing word came back. ‘What do you allege I've stolen, Mr – er—?' After all, they hadn't shown me their warrant cards yet.

‘Detective Sergeant Morris, from the Metropolitan Police Fine Art Unit. And this is Detective Inspector Farfrae.' They flashed their IDs in unison.

They looked genuine. I mustn't throw up.

‘For God's sake, can't you do this in private?' Nella demanded.

‘Whatever,' I shrugged. ‘I shan't run.' Not on legs as rubbery as this I wouldn't.

One on either side, they escorted me away from Nella. The punters parted for us. I could feel their eyes burning into me. The kindly security men who'd bantered earlier now silently admitted us to a room horribly like a cell, one looking reproachful, the other coldly angry, as if I'd personally betrayed him.

I held on to the back of the chair they pointed to so I wouldn't fall over.

‘Sit down. Now, tell us, Ms Townend, what you've been up to,' Farfrae said.

I was frozen to the spot. ‘Am I under arrest?' Not the most sensible question, but it just came out.

‘We're just asking you to answer our questions,' he said.

I didn't think there'd been a question. I shook my head blankly. This wasn't going well and I wasn't making it go any better. I swallowed hard. ‘When you were looking at the display case, what were you looking at?'

‘You tell us, Ms Townend,' Morris said. ‘Please, sit down.' It didn't sound like an invitation.

My head was swimming, so I did as I was told. And realized, rather late, what they were on about. I didn't want to dob Lord Elham in, but if it was a choice between him and me, I'd sacrifice him, any time. ‘You haven't arrested Nella, who owns everything else, so it must be something to do with that silver dish.'

‘At last we're getting somewhere,' Morris said. ‘Where did you get it from?'

‘Lord Elham,' I whispered. I tried again, louder. ‘Lord Elham of Bossingham Hall, Kent.'

‘Really?' His voice dripped disbelief. ‘And why should this lord give it to you?'

‘He didn't give it me; he asked me to sell it for him.' I dug in my bag for my organizer, into which I'd clipped a copy of the receipt I'd given him.

Before I could fish it out, Morris continued, ‘And why should a lord ask a slip of a thing like you to sell something as valuable as that?'

‘It's a very long story.'

‘So why don't you begin at the beginning? You'll find us very patient,' he added, clearly lying through his teeth, as he leaned back on his chair and folded his arms. ‘Come on, why should Lord Elham hand over that plate?'

If only Griff were here, to help me sort out the bits they needed to know from the bits they didn't. If only I could dowse for facts like I could dowse for bargains. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. ‘Because I'm his daughter.'

Bingo! Morris nearly went arse over tip, and Farfrae had to grab him.

‘Lord Elham . . . So you're Lady—?' Farfrae recovered first.

‘Plain Ms Townend.' It was time to have another dig in my purse. I came up with another of our business cards.

Farfrae scanned it and frowned. ‘So you're an antiques dealer too? In your own right?'

I was back on firmer ground at last. ‘Didn't Nella tell you? I'm helping out while her usual assistant is in . . . is incapacitated.' Thank goodness for Griff and my vocab book. I didn't think they would have been impressed by expressions like ‘pulling a sickie'.

He referred to the card again. ‘So who's this Griffith Tripp?'

‘He's a highly respected dealer, officers, specializing in Victorian china. I was his apprentice; now I'm his junior partner. I only came to this fair on what you might call work experience.'

‘And to flog a piece of stolen silver, using an equally highly respected antique dealer as a front.'

‘I've got a copy of the receipt I gave Lord Elham. Hang on just a second.' Where was the bloody thing? Ah! I unclipped it from the organizer and put it on the table. ‘Look. I've given a full and accurate description of the piece. I couldn't put in what I know now, because I didn't know it at the time.'

‘So let me get this straight, Ms Townend,' Farfrae pressed on. ‘You offered to sell in good faith what you believed to be Lord Elham's property.'

‘Exactly. But because Griff and I only do the smaller fairs, we thought it would be better to sell it through a real expert, like Lady Petronella.' It was time to pull a little more rank, even if it was someone else's. ‘She told me it was Hungarian, and what it was worth.'

‘But you didn't put that on the receipt.'

‘How could I when I didn't know when I wrote it? You can't alter things like that. Look,' I added in desperation, ‘silver's quite a different thing from china. I could tell you pretty well anything you wanted to know about a piece of Worcester porcelain; I could walk you round the outfits here and tell you who's overcharging and who doesn't know he's got a real earner on his hands.'

The men exchanged a glance; Morris mouthed something.

I waited, but had to continue. ‘But silver – I'm still learning. If you check Nella's stand, you'll find a book on the subject – I was mugging up on it so as not to look an idiot if anyone asked. My God, what if people start demanding refunds for stuff I sold this morning? It could ruin her business!' Now I came to think of it, I was being pretty generous even to think of her business. What on earth had happened to
noblesse oblige
? Griff would never have treated a colleague as badly as that in public.

‘So why did Lord Elham give you that particular piece?' Morris looked genuinely interested.

‘Why not? He's given me loads of pieces, all of which I've issued receipts for. I get the best price I can, and then take ten per cent. Again, it's all written down.'

Farfrae said, ‘It's a very formal arrangement between a father and his daughter.'

‘I'm not the only child; I want to be able to prove everything's fair.'

‘And you live with your father?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

I took a deep breath. ‘I live with my partner. Griff. My business partner.'

‘Mr Tripp. OK. But most people would leap at the idea of living in a stately home.'

‘Not if they have to share it with the paying public and my father.' Damn, I'd let a crack show.

‘Why would that be?'

‘I like my life as it is,' I said, suspecting he'd keep prying. ‘I'm learning an honest trade and a lot more besides. If you found out you'd got a lord as a father would you automatically jack everything in and go and live with him? No? Well, then.'

‘But you go and see him and he asks you to sell something—'

‘I told you, he asks me to sell a lot of things. The Hall now belongs to trustees, and he's allowed to live in one wing. All the decent china and furniture and so on was catalogued and kept in the rooms open to the public. He got to keep a load of stuff no one bothered to look at.'

‘Got to keep?'

Was he trying to say he'd nicked it? I deliberately misunderstood him. ‘Furniture, books, china – all left in the rooms he was allocated. Much of it's rubbish. Some isn't. When he runs short of cash, I sell something for him. Everything's above board, Sergeant.' This was as near the truth as it needed to be.

‘So where was this dish or plate or whatever?'

‘In one of the rooms in his wing. It was filthy dirty. He didn't even know it was silver.'

‘You did,' Farfrae said accusingly.

I was ready to cry. But I put my chin up and went into the attack. ‘Look, Inspector, you specialize in fine art – right? But if someone showed you a body, you'd have a rough idea what it was, wouldn't you?'

Morris covered a snigger. In fact, I think I was winning him over.

Farfrae didn't so much as crack his face. ‘Why this piece? When it wasn't your area of expertise? Because it was small and portable and you could whisk it away without his noticing?'

‘I've shown you the receipt, for God's sake.' If only I could tell them to phone Lord Elham to confirm what I said. But this was the time for
Countdown
and he was quite capable of denying everything so he could get on with the show.

‘But why not some china, since you claim to know a lot about it?'

‘Claim! I bloody do! Look, you're experts – OK? In one of the aisles near the coffee stall – the cheap one, not the one by the piano – there's a guy dealing with nineteenth-century Wedgwood. Right? He's got a majolica cheese dome – quite pretty, with a little knob on the lid. He's set it up for nearly a thousand – fine if it were perfect. But take another look at the knob, and tell me it hasn't been repaired. Very well, but still repaired. Go on. Take a look.'

‘That would prove you had sharp eyes, but not that you're an expert.' All the same, Farfrae was now wavering too.

‘True. The reason why I didn't take away anything else was most of the stuff I could see wasn't valuable, and Lord Elham didn't have time for me to check through everything.'

‘Lord Elham! I thought you said he was your father!'

‘He is my father. Look, why don't you stop bullying me and check a few facts. Even if it's not your area, you've probably heard of
Natura Rerum
.' And if they hadn't they weren't about to admit it. ‘It's an extremely rare philosophical treatise. Basically it was my doing that it was saved for the nation and now lives in the British Library. If you don't know all about it, get on the phone and someone will tell you the whole bloody story.' My voice cracked, quite horribly. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't need to swear.' And Griff had forbidden bad language in his house before 7 p.m. At least he wasn't in the room to hear. ‘But I'm so thirsty and hungry. I had to have breakfast at six, and then I spent my lunch hour keeping my eye on you – I followed you all the way to the car park – because I thought you were up to no good. And then I had Nella's SOS, and I didn't feel she wanted me to turn up clutching a half-eaten prawn sandwich.'