Crucified

Chapter 30

Jack had stopped off for a quick pint in his local pub, and to read the Evening Standard for any update on the fire at the gallery. It didn’t take long to discover there was no real news, and he tossed the paper into a bin as he started the fifteen-minute walk home. It was getting dark when he turned into his street and saw the car. About twenty yards ahead, a black Mercedes flashed its headlights. He paused, and the car flashed its lights again. He quickened his pace, coming abreast of the car. There was a driver wearing a chauffeur’s hat looking straight ahead, and Jack was about to rap on the window when the rear passenger door opened, and the interior lights came on.

Helga was sitting on the far side of the back seat, swathed in some kind of white fur. She gestured for Jack to get into the car. When he hesitated, she leaned across. ‘I do not have very much time.’ He got in beside her and closed the door. The interior light went out, and Helga leaned forward to the driver. ‘Do you mind leaving us for five minutes? I need a private conversation.’ Her driver half turned towards her, clearly not liking the instruction, then got out and closed the door.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jack asked angrily.

‘Don’t get tetchy with me,’ she said calmly. ‘I spoke to a very nice lady this morning and she told me you were due back early this evening, so here I am. I have been waiting for quite some time.’

She rummaged briefly in her handbag. ‘I also promise you that this time, I do have a plane to catch. I am on my way to Dubai. Here, this is my ticket,’ she waved it in front of him.

‘What do you want?’

‘Two things, first to tell you some good news and the reason there was some urgency in being paid what was owed to me. Adam has found a young man, a scientist, who has discovered a way around the problem he was so concerned about. Do you remember we discussed that art experts have discovered radiocarbon as a method of dating paintings?’

Jack nodded, hating the fact he was sitting next to her right outside his family home.

‘Well, there has been some satisfactory development, but it is very expensive and obviously illegal. Without having that as surety, the thought of taking two or more years before his work is completed was something he was concerned about.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He was in Arizona, I think he was perhaps in Berlin also, but I have no idea if Adam is still there or not.’

Jack reached out to open the door.

‘Wait,’ she said sharply. ‘Please, I doubt if I will be returning to London for a long time, and I wanted to explain something about what I do. It has taken me years to build up my list of wealthy clients. They are billionaires that want a Renoir or whatever and can pay for it. I connect them with someone who can find what they want.’

‘Is that what you have been doing for Detmar?’

‘Yes, for many years, but recently he was becoming too greedy. You have to understand that Detmar had to spend a vast amount of money to show that he was wealthy and successful.’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘In reality he owned nothing. His properties were all short-term leases, and that included his galleries. It was all a house of cards.’

‘So how do you make your money?’

‘I get a cut of the sales, that is if my introductions pay dividends.’

‘Even if you are selling fakes?’

‘I am not selling any such thing. I am simply introducing people with great wealth to exclusive dealers. Whether or not they proceed to pass on a fake work of art has nothing to do with me.’

Jack shook his head, laughing, and again he went to open the door when she reached out and held his arm.

‘I also want to thank you, Jack. I could have been involved in that horror on Saturday night. Ester made sure I was paid off and more this morning. But she cannot be trusted, and right now, with Detmar gone, she will be stealing anything she can lay her nasty hands on.’

‘You mean what’s left after the fire?’

Helga laughed again. ‘Convenient, that it was only the top floor, no?’

He was unsure what to say to that. She reached into her bag again. ‘I must go, and by the way, this is not my car or my chauffeur... it’s only a top-of-the-range Uber.’ She took out a thick white envelope. ‘This is for you. I doubt we will meet again, so this is me thanking you.’ She signalled to the driver who opened the driver’s door and got in. She turned away and Jack got out.

He stood on the pavement with the envelope in his hand as the car glided away. There was so much more he had wanted to ask — should have asked — but he hadn’t wanted to spend any more time than he had to in her company, just yards from his front door. He opened the envelope. Inside were several bundles of crisp new fifty-pound notes tied with an elastic band. He quickly counted it. Twenty thousand pounds. He put the money back in the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. ‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he muttered, quickly looking around, to make sure no one had seen.

As soon as Jack walked in, Maggie shouted for him to come into the dining room where Penny and Hannah were waiting, along with a smiling Marius.

‘Now don’t get angry,’ Maggie began, ‘but with you earning again and my wages, and we have a few quid left in the joint account, what do you think? Marius says he can break through this wall and...’

‘Just wait a minute. It looks to me as if you’ve already decided. To my mind, we don’t really need all this extra work done.’

‘The reason is, Jack, I’ve decided to save money for the christening party. We’ll have everyone here, which means we’ll need a bigger space.’

Jack sighed, shaking his head. He turned to Marius. ‘What’ll it cost?’

Marius stroked his chin. ‘I’d say for a cash deal, two and a half thousand, and that’ll include the plastering and RSJ for the main wall.’

Jack felt the weight of the money in his jacket pocket. He was eager to get up to his office to stash the money somewhere safe. ‘OK, I give in.’

Maggie clapped her hands and gave Marius a high-five.

Upstairs, Jack duct-taped the cash under the seats of a plastic toy cart that Hannah had grown out of and stuffed it in a corner. Only then did he start to relax. He physically jumped when Maggie came in carrying Charlie.

‘Wait until you see how fast he can crawl now,’ she said, putting him gently down. He quickly started beetling around the office on all fours.

Jack laughed. ‘Very impressive.’ He scooped Charlie into his arms before he could get stuck under the desk.

‘By the way, did you take a call for me this morning?’ Jack asked.

‘At the house? I was at work.’ She held her arms out. ‘Let me take him and get him ready for bed.’ She was almost out of the door when she turned. ‘I know it will really look terrific, Jack, and thank you for agreeing. Oh, did you have a good day at work?’

‘Not so bad... I’m on a late tomorrow, so I won’t be back until after nine.’

‘Put it on the diary board. I’m on the early shift. Oh, I saw it was on the six o’clock news about the fire at the gallery.’

‘Yeah, there was something in the Standard,’ he said as she went downstairs. He took a couple of deep breaths before following her down to the kitchen. Penny was feeding Hannah at the table as he went over to check this latest family schedule.

‘Did you take a call for me this morning, Mum?’

‘No, dear, I went to do a grocery shop after taking Hannah to school, I think Gladys may have as there was a message, but it just said someone had called for you. I told her to always put down the name of the caller but to be honest, I don’t think she really understands very well, and her writing is shocking.’

‘I am doing joined writing,’ Hannah said.

Penny nodded and smiled at her. ‘She is doing very well at this new school — oh, and there’s a parents’ meeting next week. I’ve put it on the board, so you and Maggie can hopefully both go.’

‘I am going to do ballet, and I have to wear a tutu and ballet shoes and a pink stretchy thing,’ Hannah said.

‘Oh yes, I need to ask Maggie about that,’ Penny said. ‘There’s a shop in the West End that sells ballet shoes and leotards. It’s a bit expensive, but we don’t want her to be the odd one out. It’s also after school — the ballet teacher is a professional. From the stage. It’s ten pounds a lesson.’

‘Fine, whatever she needs,’ Jack said.

‘Well, I thought it was a tad expensive, but if you agree, I’ll tell Maggie and organise it with her class teacher.’

Jack shrugged, looking at the markings on the wall indicating where the hole would be knocked through into the dining room. He could not imagine what it was going to be like. All he could think of was that cash strapped under the cart in his office. ‘Thank you, Helga,’ he murmured under his breath.

Early the following morning, Collingwood and Morrison were waiting for O’Reilly’s girlfriend to be brought in. Collingwood was scanning one of the morning papers, and it gave him an uneasy feeling.

‘You know, Guv, the description of the painting is out there now, even though there are no photos, thank God, but with all the mobile footage, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

Morrison shrugged. ‘Listen, we were told not to broadcast any fucking details about the crucifixion, and we’ve done our damnedest... are they worried there’s going to be a fucking copy-cat murder or something?’

‘I guess it’s because the details are so horrific.’

‘Yeah, like Jack the Ripper, ripping out his victim’s insides. They never disclosed half of what he’d done at the time. Anyway, it’ll all come out at the trial.’

‘Maybe not. If Neilson pleads guilty, there won’t be a jury trial, so...’

‘Listen, pal, word is he’s got a shit-hot legal team lined up, and they’ll want to get as much expensive court time as possible. Anyway, forget about the painting — right now, we look like fucking idiots for letting O’Reilly slip through our fingers.’

Collingwood looked at a text on his mobile. ‘She’s here, Sir.’

‘Right, let’s get to it,’ Morrison said.

Collingwood looked uneasy. ‘Before we do, Sir, I just thought I’d mention to you that she is physically challenged.’

‘What the fuck do you mean by that?’

‘Well, Sir, she’s very small. It could be dwarfism, I’m not sure.’

Morrison got the insinuation. ‘Right, you think I’m going to make a joke about her being a small-arse.’

‘No, I—’ Before Collingwood could finish, there was a tap on the door. He went to open it and stood back as a uniformed officer ushered in Rhonda Curtis, who was three and a half feet tall and very pretty, with thick blond wavy hair. She had large blue eyes with false eyelashes and her bright pink lipstick set off her flawless skin.

‘Thank you so much for coming to the station,’ Morrison said. Collingwood brought a chair for her to sit across from Morrison, but that only made her the same height as when standing, with her head only just appearing over the desk.

‘Have you got a cushion?’ she asked, in a low, throaty voice that belied her childlike appearance. Collingwood silently cursed himself for not having thought of it. He hurried out and quickly reappeared with one.

‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling sweetly as she sat down.

‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Mark Morrison. Again, thank you for coming in.’

‘I didn’t have much option when they came to my flat. Very nice officers though. Now I need to get something sorted. I watch a lot of real-life crime shows, and I know they always refuse to say anything unless they get legal representation.’

‘Miss Curtis, at present this is an informal interview. You can leave any time you want and speak with a solicitor at any time...’

‘So, I’m not under arrest?’

‘At present no, but if we discover you have lied to us you may well be arrested.’

She pursed her lips, opening her handbag to take out a tissue. ‘Is he going to witness everything?’ She pointed at Collingwood.

‘Yes, Miss Curtis, Detective Inspector Collingwood will remain in the room. Now, you have stated that Norman O’Reilly was with you in Southampton on two specific nights and that he remained with you throughout Friday 14th and Saturday 15th of March. We are now aware that Mr O’Reilly is prone to violence... perhaps you were coerced into making this statement, fearing physical repercussions if you did not?’

‘Oh, I was coerced all right. He threatened to beat me up and he terrified me, but I was stupid, you know, getting myself into that situation. I’d only met him a few weeks ago. I work in the market on Saturdays, and he was always very friendly We struck up a friendship.’

‘So, you’d only known Mr O’Reilly for a short time.’

‘I just said so. We had a couple of dates, which I never told Dad about ’cause he definitely wouldn’t have approved. Then, on Thursday, he came into the cafe and said he was going to do some business in Southampton at the weekend and stay in a nice hotel, and did I want to come. I had to tell my friend in the market I’d not be working, but it was my weekend off from the cafe anyway, so I thought why not.’

‘Tell me about the Friday when you travelled to Southampton.’ Morrison tried hard not to let his impatience show.

‘He was late picking me up and left me standing around until just before lunchtime. He had a white rental van and was very het up because he had to make this delivery at the docks; some crates he had in the back of the van, and he was worried he was gonna miss the pick-up. We got there, and it wasn’t a posh hotel or anything, just a cheap B&B. We’d only just arrived when he got a call on his mobile. He said he had to deliver the crates and for me to order in a takeaway.’

‘So, he left you at the hotel. What time did he return?’

‘Well, I was dead angry because he never got back until about midnight. I’d had the takeaway and I was going to go home, but he bought a bottle of gin. He calmed me down and said he was sorry, but he had to do a big job which was going to make him a lot of money.’

‘So, you were with Mr O’Reilly for that Friday night or what was left of it, and throughout Saturday.’

‘Yes, we eventually went back to London late Saturday, after he’d unloaded the crates. He made me promise to say about him being with me all weekend and that I would get five hundred quid.’

‘When you left, was it in the white van again?’

‘Yes, and when I went to put my case in the back, I had the door open and he snatched it from me. The van didn’t have the crates in no more, but it smelt of bleach, and there was something in a plastic bag.’

‘Can you describe it?’

‘No, not really. It was about this big.’ She indicated with her hands. ‘There’s something else. When he got back to the B&B, he smelt of bleach, and he had to take a shower and change his clothes.’

‘Did you get paid the five hundred?’

‘Well, not straightaway. It was a few days later, and there was this murder in Portobello Road and everyone was talking about it. That’s when he came into the cafe and said if anyone asked me about the weekend, I had to promise that I was with him, and I would get another two hundred. He threatened that if I didn’t, I’d be very sorry, you know, like you said, coercion. If my dad found out, all hell would break loose.’

‘Did you ever meet Kurt Neilson?’

‘No, I never met anyone when I was with Norman. I never went into that shop either, full of old junk.’

‘Have you any idea where he might be?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, Miss Curtis, we are trying to track him down.’

‘I don’t know, like I said; I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t know him that well. He was lousy in bed, too, so I was never going to have another date with him.’

‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘Why would I? There were police all around his shop, and I was told something terrible had happened in there. I think he’s got a brother in Cork, and the bloke who rented the white van was a friend. He said he got a cheap rate.’

‘Can you recall anything about the van that would help us trace it?’

‘Not really. It was a white rental van with an address and contact numbers on the side, but I can’t remember what they were. He said he used them a lot for driving these crates to Southampton.’

Morrison stood up as Collingwood went to help Miss Curtis down from her chair, although he wasn’t sure how. He offered her his hand, which she took, allowing her to slide gently to the floor with a giggle. He walked her to the door and then accompanied her out into the corridor, closing the door after them.

Morrison got onto the team to trace the rental van, then flipped open Rhonda Curtis’s file. ‘She might look like a little girl, but bloody hell...’ he muttered, noting that she was thirty-five years old and had a previous conviction for sex work.

As Collingwood was heading back to Morrison’s office, Ralph Jordan came running down the stairs from the office being used to check the CCTV and mobile footage. He seemed very agitated.

‘Mike, you’d better come up and have a look at what we’ve got. I don’t know what the hell to do about it.’

Collingwood was about to follow him, when Morrison appeared and said they’d had a hit with the van. ‘It’s registered to a company in White City run by a Frank Jones. A patrol car’s waiting for you. I’ll organise a forensic team to be on standby.’

The van rental company was located in a run-down yard with a cheap corrugated lean-to. The yard was attached to residential property and used the front room as their office. Collingwood’s patrol car drove in through the old wooden double gates to see two young kids using a hose-pipe to wash down one of three vans. Collingwood stepped out, a uniformed officer alongside him. The third officer started looking closely at the vans.

‘Frank Jones, need a word,’ Collingwood said to one of the boys. The boy turned with the hose full on and nearly soaked him.

‘He was taking his kid to school, but he might be back in the office.’ He jerked a thumb.

Collingwood, accompanied by the officer, were walking towards the indicated door when there was a shout from the yard behind them.

The officer was struggling to hold onto a screaming Norman O’Reilly. The two boys were not giving any assistance but staring wide-eyed as Collingwood and the other officer piled in to drag O’Reilly face down and put the handcuffs on him. By the time they had dragged him onto his feet and got him into the patrol car, Frank Jones, driving an old jeep, drove into the yard.

Collingwood sent the patrol car with Norman O’Reilly back to the station and led a worried-looking Jones into his office.

‘I had no idea he was hiding in one of my vans. I just got the boys to start hosing them down this morning.’

Collingwood called for backup, and when they arrived, they found a sleeping bag and food cartons left in the back of the van Norman had just been dragged from, along with some clothes and a mobile phone. A further search revealed his passport and tickets for the ferry over to Ireland. Jones identified the van O’Reilly had used on the trip to Southampton, which still had a strong smell of bleach. Collingwood called for a flatbed truck to take it to the forensic lab to be examined.

By the time Collingwood returned to the station, he had a statement from Frank Jones and the dates and times he had rented one or other of his vans to O’Reilly over the last two years. He claimed that he only ever did business with O’Reilly himself, and it was always a cash deal, never having met anyone from the framer’s shop.