Crucified

Chapter 17

Maggie was delighted with the chest of drawers but not that keen on the rug. Having lugged it up to the loft, Jack would have been annoyed, but he was more concerned with finding out what had happened at the framer’s shop.

He went downstairs to his office and brought up the latest local news on his laptop. There was a video of what looked like a hectic scene with forensics and uniforms going in and out, but, frustratingly, no further details.

Jack went down to the kitchen to make a coffee. Penny was tucking Charlie into his pushchair, ready to take him to the park with Hannah, as Marius stirred some paint outside the kitchen with a stick. Maggie gave Jack one of her sour looks then said, in that flat tone of voice he hated, ‘Don’t worry about painting the chest, Jack. We are doing it, so there’s no need for you to bother yourself!’

‘Fine,’ Jack retorted. ‘I need to go out. I won’t be long.’

‘Please yourself,’ she said. Jack grabbed the car keys as Penny opened the front door and pushed the pram out.

‘It would be nice if you took Charlie out with Hannah one day. She really loves the swings,’ Penny remarked.

‘Tomorrow, I’ll take them both out tomorrow,’ Jack said, squeezing past her.

In the car he began to feel bad and thought about going back to apologise but then thought better of it. He’d buy his mum a bunch of flowers instead. He decided to drive to Adam Border’s abandoned school to see if he knew what had happened in the framer’s shop.

There were police cordons blocking his usual route, so he did a detour using Waze. When he arrived at the school, the barrier was down, and it looked as if demolition had started on the smaller outer buildings. The lean-to shelter had gone, the bike shed and toilets had been flattened, and Jack, unable to lift the barrier, had to park on the road.

He made his way round the rear of the building to the double doors he had used previously. There was a no entry sign and a double chain was padlocked through the door handles. He went round to the rear of the building to find many of the windows were broken and some had been boarded up. Jack stood on some crates and carefully knocked out the broken shards before climbing through a window.

The kitchen had been stripped of anything of value, even the cupboard doors, and there was no electricity. Rubbish had been left in plastic bags and old coffee cups and takeaway food cartons were everywhere as he made his way towards the drill hall. It had been stripped bare. The vast room was desolate, but he could still make out the lingering smell of oil paint and terps. There was nothing: Adam’s clothes, his sleeping bag and blankets had all gone. Just a layer of old dirty newspapers remained, which Jack guessed he’d probably used as insulation beneath his sleeping bag.

Jack made his way back to his car. He recalled the time he had instructed the Gardai to search the studio in Ireland for Adam. He was told there was nothing left, not even fingerprints. It was as if Adam Border had never been there. It was the same here. And the entire building would soon be flattened.

He started the car, did a U-turn, and headed back down the road. He tried to work out when he’d last seen Adam. Surely he wouldn’t just have disappeared without a word? Unless something had happened that forced him to clear out quickly. But he would have needed more than just the jeep to move everything out: all the paintings, the table and frames, not to mention his equipment. Jack thought he might come back when the workmen were present to see what he could find out.

Maggie called out from the loft when she heard the front door shutting behind him. She caught Jack hurrying into his office. ‘Come and see what we’ve done, I think you’ll like it.’

‘Not now Maggie, there’s something I have to do.’

She could tell immediately something was wrong so followed him into his office. He was throwing his jacket off and pulling out his desk chair. ‘What’s happened? You look freaked out.’ He tensed, at first not wanting to say anything, but then she came and put her arms around him. ‘Tell me, Jack.’

He took a deep breath. ‘OK, you know I went to the market earlier... well, part of the market was shut off with forensic guys and crime ribbons across the road. I spoke to a woman watching, and she heard there’d been a murder in the framer’s shop.’

‘Oh, my goodness. Is that where you went off to?’

‘No, I needed to speak to Adam, so I drove to the school he was using as a studio. There was no sign of him or his equipment, and the place was being demolished.’

‘You think he could be involved?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just, there was nothing left.’ Jack was struggling to make sense of it all. ‘He would have needed help to move all his gear, he can’t just have disappeared.’

‘He did before, though, didn’t he? Isn’t there anything on the news?’

‘I looked earlier but they didn’t have any details.’

‘Try now.’

Jack logged on again but there was still nothing beyond the fact that ‘an incident’ had occurred and police were investigating. Jack knew details were routinely withheld from the press in murder cases, while the family were informed.

‘Is there no other way you can find out? Use that system thingy at work.’

‘If I try, it’ll flag up as me, then I’ll need to explain why I’m after the information. I suppose I could say I was in the market... but then why didn’t I make an approach then?’

‘Surely Adam must have been staying somewhere else apart from the school?’

‘He was living there, Mags, unless... hang on.’ Jack picked up his mobile and began scrolling through the photos until he found the ones he’d taken of Adam’s Jeep. It was hard to read the number plate because of the mud, but eventually, after enlarging all three images, he pieced together the entire registration. He phoned the CID office and asked to speak with Laura, but she wasn’t there so Jack told the clerk he needed a vehicle registration check done for a car that may be connected to the street gangs operation. After giving her the number, he could hear her tapping the keyboard as he waited anxiously for the result. The clerk informed him the vehicle was owned and insured by Daniel Ferrato, with an address in Haslemere. Jack wrote the details down on a pad, thanked the clerk for her help and ended the call.

He typed the address into Google Earth and got a satellite image of a large, gated Tudor mansion house off a country lane, surrounded by woodland. A long driveway led up to the property, which had a double garage to one side, landscaped gardens, an enormous green-house and an outside pool. Jack switched from satellite to street view to see if he could get a better look at the front of the house, but it was too far up the drive from the lane. One thing was certain, though: if Daniel Ferrato owned the house, he was an incredibly wealthy man. Jack was about to switch the computer off when something on the wrought iron gates caught his eye. At first, he thought it was a ‘private property — keep out’ sign, but when he zoomed in, he could see it was a letting agent’s sign with their address and phone number. Jack found the property on the agent’s website, and his jaw dropped when he saw that the price for a week’s rental was over ten thousand pounds. More than Adam Border could afford, which is why he was living in the old school. So what was his connection to Mr Ferrato?

Jack looked at his watch, it was almost five. He hoped the letting agency would be open on a Saturday. Calling them, he hung on for what seemed like an age and was about to hang up when someone finally answered.

‘Firstly, my apologies for calling so late, but it’s regarding a property you rent out in Haslemere, Surrey. I believe it might belong to Mr Daniel Ferrato.’

‘I am sorry,’ said a posh woman’s voice, ‘but I am unable to give any details over the phone. If you care to come into the office, we open at ten o’clock on Monday.’

‘I am Detective Sergeant Jones from the Metropolitan Police,’ Jack continued. ‘Mr Ferrato’s vehicle was involved in a hit-and-run incident, it is a Mercedes, registration number XE...’

She interrupted, asking him to hold on for a moment while she looked at her computer. Jack shook his head, smiling. With no proof of his ID at all, she was about to give him what he wanted. Just the mention of the word ‘police’ was enough.

‘Mr Ferrato has been in Florida for six months, so I don’t think he could be the driver. I can give you his contact details.’ She handed over Ferrato’s address and a phone number in Florida, but Jack didn’t bother to write them down. He then read out the registered address of the vehicle owner and asked if Mr Ferrato owned the property.

‘Yes, and his vehicle is, I believe, allowed to be used by the occupiers, but the lease expires in two weeks.’

‘Could I have the names of the people currently staying there, please?’

‘I’m not sure I can give out our clients’ details,’ she faltered.

‘This is a serious matter,’ Jack persisted. ‘The pedestrian who was hit by Mr Ferrato’s vehicle is in a coma. She may not survive.’

Jack could hear the woman tut and then start frantically typing again before she told him that Mr Adam Jessop and his wife were staying at the address. She asked Jack for his name and rank again so she could inform her boss, which was when he put the phone down on her.

Jack went up to the nursery as Maggie was finishing feeding Charlie. ‘I have an address that Adam might be renting, so I’m going there tonight.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, very sure.’

Maggie smiled. She had her worries about Jack getting involved in Adam Border’s world, but loved that he was once again engaged and enthralled by being a detective, even if it was nothing to do with his actual job. He was smiling again, sleeping again and that was all that really mattered to her. ‘You be careful driving tonight. I’ll leave your dinner in the oven if you’re not back in time.’

As Jack drove, Waze estimated the journey to Haslemere would take an hour and a half. At first, he was uncertain whether to ask Laura to help him, but he reckoned she might be up for it. She could never resist a Miss Marple task.

He put his mobile on speaker as Laura answered and Jack explained that he needed her to do some sleuthing for him about the incident at the framer’s shop. ‘I’ve searched the Met Web and other websites but can’t find anything about it. The framer’s shop is on Fulham’s patch, and I know you used to work there, so maybe you could phone an old colleague and find out what’s going on?’

‘I was never at Fulham. I was in a relationship with Mark Morrison, the station DCI... well, he was DI back then. He dumped me, so thanks for opening that old wound. What’s your interest?’

‘You know me, I’m a nosey bugger. I was down the market to pick up some furniture but couldn’t because the area was sealed off with crime scene guys milling about, and I wondered when the roads might reopen.’

‘Wow,’ Laura laughed, ‘you must really want that furniture! You’re a terrible liar Jack, but you’re also hardly ever wrong... so if you’ve got a hunch about something or other, I’ll call that arse-hole Morrison. But he may not be very forthcoming. I’ll ring you back if I get anything.’

Jack laughed. ‘Thanks, Laura.’

The journey to Haslemere took longer than expected due to an accident on the A3. Jack drove down dimly-lit country lanes, passing expensive looking properties with high hedgerows and massive gates. He noticed virtually every property had an intercom system and CCTV security camera warnings on the gates. His phone rang, and Laura’s name showed on the screen. He pulled over onto the grass verge and answered it.

‘You owe me, Jack, big time. I had to listen to Morrison’s bullshit about how much he regretted dumping me, blah, blah, lovely arse, blah, blah, and if we could try again, blah, blah, blah. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I couldn’t because I had to get the info for you. I even had to agree to go for a drink with him!’

‘You didn’t mention my name, did you?’

‘No, course not, I just said I knew someone who’d been at the market and overheard something about a murder. I said I was being nosey, which he agreed with a bit too quickly for my liking! Anyway, Fulham’s working the case and Morrison’s the DCI on it. He was full of his own self-importance, but I reckon he’s shitting himself, the big baby...’

‘Can I please have the details, Laura?’ Jack asked, trying not to lose patience with her.

‘OK, they got the initial call from a stall-holder who leaves her trestle table inside this framer’s shop and only works Saturdays. The bloke who runs it normally opens the frame shop before she gets there, but this morning she found the front door still locked. She knocked but got no answer, then went round to the backyard and found the rear door open. She called out but didn’t get a reply and thought the framer might have gone to get a coffee, so she went in to get her trestle table.’ Laura paused and Jack could hear her sipping on a drink.

He was getting frustrated. Again, Laura was going round the houses instead of getting straight to the hard facts. ‘So, she goes in, and then what?’

‘The guy was naked, and you are not going to believe this... he’d been crucified.’

‘What?’ Jack exclaimed.

‘I know, unbelievable. There was a giant wooden cross in the shop, and he was nailed and chained to it. They reckon he’s been there for a day or two.’

‘Jesus Christ...’

‘You can say that again... he was beaten so badly his face was unrecognisable. Morrison said it was horrific. They’re still trying to ID him and that’s why there’s been no press release, because, unbelievably, he’s still alive. So they need to find his family and protect him. Or all of them. Dunno. That’s all I got.’

‘Laura, thanks so much. I really appreciate it.’

‘Oh, another bit of info for you: Morrison let slip that he and Armani had been an item and he dumped her too. Well, he didn’t exactly say that, just that it hadn’t worked out between them.’

‘Interesting. That’s another IOU.’

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

Jack sensed Laura’s growing curiosity and decided to end the call. ‘I’m at home with the kids. Talk when I get in on Monday, and thanks again.’

He sat in the car for a while before driving on to the house. A large padlock and chain were hanging loose on the gate, and from his position, he could just see the big house at the end of the driveway. The light was fading, so he got out of the car for a better look. He could see there were lights on.

Pulling open one side of the wrought iron gate, Jack returned to his car, turned the headlights off and drove slowly up the drive. As he parked in front of the garage, he noticed security lights on the house but to his relief, it wasn’t quite dark enough for them to kick in. He walked around the garage and stood on tiptoe to look through a window. He could see the Mercedes Jeep, polished and pristine, as if someone had valeted it. Next to the jeep was a white Mercedes sports car and two electric scooters.

Jack walked back to the gravel drive and up to the front door, which was flanked by two white pillars. He pressed the bell and stepped back. To his surprise, the door instantly buzzed open. He walked into the hall, towards a wide staircase.

‘You’re rather early,’ a woman’s voice called out from upstairs. ‘But you can start taking my cases down while I finish packing’.

Jack walked up the stairs, passing beneath a huge chandelier. He paused on the landing, then headed towards a room at the end of the corridor with its double doors half open. Jack pushed the door open wider. It was a huge bedroom. Lined up beside the bed were Hermès suitcases and a trunk. A woman appeared holding an array of silk blouses. She was dressed in a silk kimono, with her thick blond hair hanging loose to her shoulders. When she saw Jack, she swept one side of her hair back from her face with her hand.

‘I’m not your driver,’ Jack said, remaining by the door.

‘Are you a replacement? You’re very early. Take those cases down and wait until I call you to return for the rest. I have to finish and change.’

‘Are you Mrs Jessop?’ Jack asked.

‘Why are you asking me that?’

‘Because I know the house is leased to a Mr and Mrs Jessop.’

‘Ah yes, well, that is correct, but I am leaving before the end of the lease. The house must be left in pristine condition. We had to leave an absurdly large deposit, and I was warned that they would also check the mileage on their cars. So, if you are here to do that, go ahead, but they should have warned me.’

Jack stepped further into the bedroom and took out his ID. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Jack Warr.’ She straightened but otherwise showed no reaction. But he could tell she had recognised his name. Jack got straight to the point. ‘I need to speak to Adam.’

‘He’s not here. He left days ago, so you have had a wasted journey.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No, I do not.’

‘I really need to see him.’

She shut the case on the bed and placed it beside the others. ‘I’m sorry. I have no idea where he has gone. I need to change, so if you don’t mind leaving me. Go down into the kitchen, have a drink of coffee or whatever you want. I won’t take long. I am expecting a driver as I have a plane to catch.’

Jack hesitated. He found her precise way of speaking slightly disconcerting. ‘Where are you from?’

‘Germany. Go on, hurry out, let me get ready.’ Without further hesitation, she slipped out of the kimono, revealing that she was naked beneath. Jack flushed with embarrassment at the sight of her perfect body as she strolled into the en suite.

Jack went back downstairs and into a luxurious kitchen filled with high-end electrical appliances. He took a moment to admire the floor-to-ceiling dresser filled with matching blue and white crockery, then grabbed a mug and poured some leftover coffee from a complicated looking percolator. The refrigerator was the largest and most modern he had ever seen. It contained several bottles of wine and champagne, yet the rest of the shelves were empty. He pulled out a chair and sat with his lukewarm mug of coffee. After a while, he became concerned that the beautiful Mrs Jessop might have left. Then he heard the click-clack of high-heeled shoes making their way across the hall towards him. He’d thought she was stunning when he first saw her, but now she looked breathtaking, with her makeup and lustrous hair coiled into a long, loose braid. But he had been mistaken about her age; she was older than he’d first thought, almost middle-aged. She was wearing thigh-high black boots over tight fitting fawn trousers, a white polo neck sweater, and slung around her shoulders was a cashmere fur-edged stole.

‘He told me a lot about you, Jack,’ she said as she placed a leather shoulder bag on the table. ‘He told me about your visits to his studio.’

‘Did Adam live here with you?’ Jack asked.

‘Of course. He liked his comfort and my being here.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘It has been nearly two years... but he had to leave like he usually does. He worked at the school so as not to be interrupted but needed time to relax in comfort also.’

Jack was at a loss, trying to come to terms with all the lies Adam told about living rough in the school hall and all the while returning to this luxurious house, never mind this stunning woman. She seemed totally at ease as she waited for him to process this new information. Pulling himself together, Jack realised he needed to take charge. ‘Sit down,’ he told her. ‘I need some answers.’

She stayed standing. ‘I don’t have very long.’

‘I need to know where he is. What’s your real name?’

‘Helga Meirling.’ She opened her bag and tossed her passport towards him. He opened it and flicked through the pages, noting how many times she had travelled to Europe and the US. She was forty-two years old.

‘You travel a lot. What work do you do?’

‘I am a fashion journalist covering promotional and charity events for some of the big names in Milan.’

‘Where did you live?’

‘In Berlin, some of the time.’

‘But you’ve been here in London for almost two years?’

‘Yes, not all the time. But it has been very pleasant.’

‘With Adam?’

‘Yes, I would have thought that was obvious. It was much longer this time. We rarely have this length of time together. He is always on the move.’

‘So where has he gone?’

‘I have no idea. A situation came up about two weeks ago that made him become very agitated.’

‘You know what he does, don’t you?’ Jack said.

‘He’s an artist, a genius, that’s what I know. I have had to come to terms with his erratic behaviour and not question what he chooses to do.’

‘So, he packs up, walks out and leaves you with no way to contact him? I don’t believe you. I don’t believe he just woke up one day and walked away from all of this. From you.’

‘Believe me, it has been this way for ten years. He could be with his wife in France. He has three children aged two, four and six. It seems a child appears always after a length of time he has been absent. He leaves her pregnant, but I have no idea where she lives or any of the other women in his life. You may not be able to understand that I am content with what I have when I am with him. When we are together, he is everything to me, and I live for the next time he calls. That is all true.’

Jack didn’t know whether to believe her or not. But he still needed to find Adam. ‘Did you help him move his stuff from the old school studio?’

She sighed with impatience. ‘Do I look like someone who would do that? You are so naive, Detective. Adam has many people working for him, ready to jump to it when he wants something done. They too enjoy the life he gifts them.’ She could see the deepening furrow between Jack’s eyes. ‘Adam is worth a fortune, Jack. And don’t ask me what bank, because I do not know. You have to believe that as much as I adore him, and love him, he guards his secrets with his life. I would never question him.’

‘He pays you to be with him?’

‘You are a very silly man, Jack. Some women are happy to be bought. Tickets, jewels, expenses, anything I needed. He is the most generous and considerate man.’

‘I may be silly to you, but it’s hard for me to grasp how such a beautiful woman can be at the beck and call of a man who just fucks off when he wants and picks you up again in the same way. Do you really think he loves you?’ She tensed, declining to reply. ‘Helga,’ Jack’s tone was gentler now, ‘I am here because I think Adam’s been involved in a terrible crime. So I really need to know where he is. I liked him too. All I am trying to do is find out if he’s in danger.’

For the first time, she showed a flicker of emotion, though she hid it well behind the action of taking out a cigarette case and lighting a cigarette. ‘Let me give you a warning, Detective. Adam has many friends, many helpers, and if you attempt to trace him, he will turn on you. Believe me, you don’t want that to happen. Don’t for a second think that you know him or have any idea what he is capable of. No one does.’

‘Tell me about the last time you were with him. When he did his disappearing act.’

She hesitated, drawing on her cigarette before pushing the smoke out through the corner of her lips. ‘Honestly, I had never seen him be so concerned. As you probably know, he was usually easy-going, but two weeks ago he came home in a terrible rage. I didn’t really understand. He paced up and down, not really talking to me but more to himself.’ She crossed to the sink and ran the water to put out her cigarette. ‘As far as I can recall it was something to do with telling a forgery from a real thing. He said something about radiocarbon dating techniques to analyse paint chips from paintings too old to easily determine their age.’ She smiled at Jack. ‘I looked it up. Scientists have been working on carbon-14 radiation dating to detect fake artworks since 1972.’

Jack had never heard of this technique, nor did he understand what it meant.

‘Whether or not it was this that had made him unusually anxious, I don’t know. Then there was a phone call. I was on the landing upstairs when I heard him... I’ve never seen Adam that angry. He was blazing, screaming abuse at the caller, saying that he was a leach and could destroy everything because of his greed. He repeated that he needed at least two years, at the very least, to accomplish what he intended to do and that any interference would cost him dearly. Adam was threatening to crucify this person on the phone.’

Jack could hardly believe what she had just said. ‘Do you know who the caller was?’

‘There was someone who acted as Adam’s dealer. I never met him, but I know Adam hated him. I think he put pressure on him to produce more paintings.’

‘Fakes.’

She gave Jack a cool blink of her eyes before turning away. ‘I have no recollection of any fakes produced by Adam. To the contrary, he is a brilliant artist. His work is bought by many dealers around the world.’

This was the equivalent of Helga saying ‘no comment’ so Jack let it lie and changed the subject. ‘Does the name Detmar Steinburg sound familiar?’ Again he saw the slight glimmer in her eyes.

‘No. Now I think this has gone far enough, Jack. I stick to my side of our bargain, he leaves, and I don’t question when or where I will see him again. That’s all I have for you.’

He was sure she was lying, but he had already gained a lot from her and didn’t want to alienate her by asking any further questions. She picked up his mug of cold coffee, poured it into the sink and rinsed out the mug. ‘Everything has to be left in perfect order, part of the lease specifications.’ She picked up her passport and put it back in her bag.

The doorbell rang and she hurried to the door. ‘That’ll be my driver. Oh, I still need my cases bringing down.’ Jack walked into the hall to see a burly man heading up the stairs, following Helga. Jack watched as the driver returned with two of the cases.

‘Can I help?’ Jack asked, looking up to the landing.

‘There are only two more suitcases and my travel bag. He can do it.’ The driver returned and hurried up the stairs. He came out of the bedroom with the last two suitcases and Helga turned off the bedroom lights, following the driver down the stairs clutching a small holdall and her shoulder bag.

She walked past Jack and slipped the house keys, car keys and a handwritten note in an envelope which she put on the hall table. ‘There. That is it... unless you want to stay on here to look around?’

‘No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘There was one thing, it may not mean anything, but after that night when he was so angry, he was different. Usually, that was a sign to me that he was going away, but he said...’ She frowned, running her finger over her lips as she tried to recall Adam’s exact words. ‘He said the radiocarbon dating was no longer an issue. Then we had a wonderful night together. He was so excited, and for a while, I believed he wouldn’t do his usual disappearing act. But I woke up the next morning and he had gone. I truthfully don’t know where he is, Jack.’ She was about to walk out when she hesitated. ‘You haven’t told me why you are concerned about Adam... other than rather dramatically mentioning his possible involvement in a terrible crime.’

‘The shop he used to acquire the old frames for his paintings; a body was discovered there.’

She laughed in relief. ‘Then it is obviously nothing to do with Adam. He would have already left England.’ She waited for Jack to pass her before turning the hall lights off and closing the front door. Jack walked around to his car, watching as the driver opened the rear door of the Mercedes so that Helga could climb inside. After following them out, Jack drove past them, as the driver had stopped to close the big iron gate and attach the padlock.

Jack had a long journey home which gave him time to think over his interview with Helga. She had not asked when the body had been discovered before saying that Adam had already left the country. Did that mean she was lying? Did she know Adam was involved in the murder? Or... even worse... was he the man who had been crucified?