Crucified

Chapter 6

Maggie and Jack’s drive home, the car full to the brim with plants, pots and urns, was tense; partly because they had been given a parking ticket for overstaying the two-hour time limit, but mainly because Jack refused to discuss hiring extra help for Penny.

They carried the plants and pots, plus two bags of soil and fertiliser through the kitchen and into the garden in silence. While Jack carried on unloading, Maggie ordered a pizza, bathed Charlie, fed him, and put him to bed. Because Hannah was eating with them, Maggie couldn’t really bring up the subject of Penny getting some help when Maggie returned to work, so Maggie got out her mobile to show Penny and Hannah the photographs of all the second-hand items they had bought for the loft extension but hadn’t yet collected. Bored with looking at pictures of furniture, Hannah said she wanted to watch TV in her bedroom, so she was allowed to take a slice of pizza up with her.

‘I’ll be up in a minute and bring you a hot chocolate,’ Penny said, getting up from the table.

‘Sorry we left the kids with you for so long,’ Maggie said. ‘We didn’t intend to stay at the market this late.’ With Jack there too, she finally saw her opportunity to bring up the idea of an au pair. ‘Penny, Jack and I wanted to...’

Jack immediately got up from the table. ‘Just going to check I locked the car.’

Maggie couldn’t believe Jack was sabotaging the conversation again. She tried to stop him. ‘I saw you lock it, Jack.’

‘No, you didn’t. I was still unloading when you went to check on Charlie.’ He walked out of the kitchen and the front door slammed behind him. Maggie snatched up the empty pizza boxes as though taking them to the bin, then hurried to the front door just in time to see Jack drive off. She marched back into the house and Penny could see the look of fury on her face.

‘Are you all right, dear? I don’t mean to pry but... if you need to talk.’

Jack had not planned to drive back to the market. He was so pissed off with Maggie, he just needed to get away and was driving on autopilot. But he found himself heading back to where he’d last seen Adam Border. As he parked up, relieved he didn’t need to buy another parking ticket as it was after 6 p.m., he looked at his watch. In twenty minutes, Adam Border would be returning to the framer’s shop.

Jack walked up the now stall-less market, lined with rubbish bags being collected by two council workers who were throwing them in the back of a wire mesh truck. Another vehicle was hosing the street down behind them. As he looked for the framer’s shop, Jack chastised himself for such a stupid move. Why was he out here chasing ghosts when he knew he should be home making up with Maggie?

‘Hello, Jack.’

Turning sharply, Jack came to face to face with Adam Border.

‘You’re a bit late if you want to buy that doll. But I was hoping you would make an appearance.’ Border stepped closer, smiling, and Jack was taken aback when Border hugged him.

‘I thought you’d clocked me in the market. But I wasn’t sure until I saw you doing that routine with the doll. Was that your wife who came up and distracted you?’

Jack flushed, hearing Border’s description of his clumsy attempt at surveillance.

‘But I thought if I mentioned when I was returning to pick up my frames...’ He grinned. ‘And here you are.’

Jack pulled himself away. ‘I don’t know why I came back.’

‘I think I do, Jack.’ Border laughed. ‘How about a drink and a chat for old time’s sake?’

‘What about the frames you need to collect?’

‘I phoned the framer and arranged an earlier time. It’s all done and loaded in the car. It’s parked round the corner.’ He started to walk off.

Jack knew he should walk away but found himself following Border round the corner to a black Mercedes Jeep with mud sprays over the sides and wheels. The back seats were down, and he could see the car was stacked with battered frames and tatty-looking oil paintings.

Border gestured for Jack to get in the passenger side. He hesitated before climbing in, still unsure why he was even contemplating going with him. The inside of the Jeep stank of oil and paint thinners. Cigarette stubs overflowed from the ashtray, and used coffee cups littered the footwell, along with crumpled takeaway wrappers.

‘Your friend obviously doesn’t clean his truck,’ Jack said lamely as the car bounced over a road hump and the contents slid and crashed about in the rear.

‘That’s why it’s unlikely anyone would steal it. This area around the market is notorious for car thefts... I leave it for hours sometimes while I shop around, but it’s always here when I come back. I did real good today. That shop owner is one of my best dealers. He collects for me at auctions and house sales up and down the country.’

‘Where are we going?’ Jack asked, worried about leaving Maggie’s car behind.

‘I’ve got a warehouse space in a property due for demolition. It’ll only be for another six months, then I’ll get turned out, but it will suffice until I return home.’

‘Where’s home?’

‘France. But I keep looking for properties that I can lease for cash — I just need space, electricity, good light and no other tenants.’

Jack tried to figure out where they were, as Border turned down one backstreet after another until they finally entered a cul-de-sac with a kid’s playing field on one side and three small boarded-up terraced houses. Border pulled up by a barrier, then used a set of keys to unlock it before lifting it up. He then drove over rough potholed tarmac towards some old derelict buildings.

‘It used to be a school before the land was sold off for a new high-rise block, but it suits me. I’m what might be described as the caretaker, but I pay for the privilege.’ They continued past what had been the entrance of the school into a low-walled backyard. Border got out, gesturing for Jack to follow as he opened one of the large double doors into the building.

As Border went inside, Jack quickly snapped some pictures of the location with his phone. He knew what he was doing was foolish and potentially dangerous, but it felt good to have some adrenalin pumping through his veins once more.

Border was standing at the end of a corridor by a room with a DRILL HALL sign above it and a padlock and chain on the door handles. He unlocked it and walked inside. Jack followed him and was astonished by the number of frames lining the walls; long trestle tables were piled up with canvases, and one was covered with an array of oil painting brushes and thousands of tubes of oil paint, jars of chemicals and turpentine.

‘My God, how long have you been using this place?’ Jack asked.

‘Just a few months. Anything of value I keep in that old safe in the corner. I sometimes get kids trying to break in and nick anything they think they can sell. The place used to be full of old school desks and chairs, but now they’ve all been taken, break-ins are far less frequent. Whether the fucking junkies around here or the builders took them, I don’t know. You fancy a drink?’

‘Er, thanks, but I really need to get going.’

‘I’ll take you back to the market when we’ve unloaded the car. I’ll get us a drink first.’ Border walked out of the hall and into another room off the corridor while Jack looked around. There was a generator and an array of lamps, and easels with drapes over the paintings. Jack recalled being in Ireland with Border years ago and seeing his paintings. He remembered how fast he had flown the coop when the police were about to arrest him. He knew back then Border must have had a team of people working for him to be able to clear out his studio so fast and so professionally, leaving no prints or evidence that he had even been there. Jack knew Border traded in forgeries as he had gifted him a so-called Giacometti. He had contemplated selling it at one time but knew that it could get him in serious trouble, so kept it hidden beneath his shed. It was obvious now to Jack that Border was back in business.

Hundreds of photographs decorated every wall — close-ups of paintings, frames, canvases, zooming in on every minute detail, in order to make the forgeries perfect in every way Jack assumed. In front of one canvas was a high-powered A4 magnifier and against the wall was what looked like a mobile X-ray machine. This was attached to a large screen, currently switched off. There were cameras, goggles, medical-style magnifying glasses and more painting equipment than the average art shop. Jack picked up a brush that had just one single bristle. He was looking at the painting next to it just as Border returned.

‘Impressed?’ he said smiling, holding up a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two fluted wine glasses. ‘That one is all my own work.’

Jack couldn’t quite say what he thought about it, except that it was somehow fascinating. ‘It’s... special. Is it oils?’

‘Yep, can’t get anyone even remotely interested.’

Jack tore his gaze from the painting. ‘Are you here alone, or do you have people working for you?’

‘Right now, it’s just me. Much of what you see stacked up will be useless, but it’ll make good firewood. I have to be very careful to find the right frame. Let me show you what you might think is a rusted pile of crap but actually has immense value.’ Border placed the glasses on a table and indicated a row of small cardboard boxes containing nails of various shapes and sizes. As he poured the wine, he nodded to one box that contained only two nails. ‘Fifteenth-century nails, next box sixteenth century, then seventeenth... I also have nails from the Edwardian and Victorian periods. It’s taken me years to collect them — from all over the world.’ He offered Jack a glass of wine.

‘So you live here?’

Border made a nonchalant gesture towards a corner of the drill hall. ‘Mattress and sleeping bag, but I use a local gym when I need to shower.’

Jack looked at a stack of paintings propped up against the table. He glanced at Border as if asking his permission to look over them.

‘Be my guest,’ Border smiled.

‘These are very good... all forgeries I suppose.’

Border laughed. ‘Actually, they’re my original work. You wouldn’t believe it, but countless galleries and art dealers around the world have rejected me. I can’t sell a single one of them... so frustrating when I can knock out fakes which they buy by the dozen.’

‘Do they know they’re fakes?’

‘I don’t think so, it’s not as if I advertise the fact. There was a pair of artists who worked together, painted forgeries — they came up with an ingenious con. They collected a stack of crap... broken frames, damaged canvases etcetera and included one of their forgeries among the dross. Degas being a favourite.’

‘Is that why you went to the market trader’s shop?’

‘Yes, for the old frames. He’s got stacks of them and hasn’t a clue how valuable they are to an art forger.’

Jack shook his head, laughing despite himself.

‘So, these two artists would dress up all scruffy and go to reputable dealers, saying they had a carload of paintings they got from house clearances, and they’d ask if anything they had was of value. They would watch the so-called art connoisseur look over their offerings almost in disgust, until their eyes lit up when they saw the fake. Do you remember me telling you about the importance of provenance, you know, proof of authentication...’

‘Vaguely,’ Jack said, trying to disguise his interest.

‘They were in it for the money, of course, but like me, they also resented the establishment rejecting their own paintings.’

‘I can understand the frustration.’

‘I doubt you can. I would say nearly fifty per cent of all the socalled Old Masters in museums and galleries are fakes. Even King Charles displayed one from a US artist. But these days it’s getting tougher because so many art experts have had their fingers burnt. My biggest fear is that a man named James Martin will be my nemesis. He’s considered one of the world’s top art forgery detectives.’

‘Never heard of him.’ Jack took another sip of wine.

Border picked up a magazine article with a photograph of Martin and handed it to Jack.

‘Forgeries have got so good Sotheby’s hired Martin to check any painting brought to them. In 2015, a big art gallery in Paris had a tip-off that one of the paintings on display was a fake. It was Venus by the German Renaissance master Lucas Cranach the Elder, originally purchased by the Prince of Liechtenstein for about six million. Tests confirmed it was a forgery. They discovered it had been put on the market by Giuliano Ruffini, a well-known art collector, which hoisted a big red flag of concern about how many fakes Ruffini had sold. It turned out to be around twenty-five works, from which he made a staggering hundred and seventy-odd million.’

‘So, has this Ruffini been arrested?’ Jack was fascinated by the world Border lived in and the exotic figures who inhabited it.

‘Yes, in Italy. He was extradited to Paris and charged with fraud, money laundering and forgery but has yet to stand trial. Ruffini has always maintained his innocence.’ Border’s mobile rang; he glanced at the caller ID before answering. After listening for a moment, he turned his back on Jack and started speaking angrily.

‘It’s too soon... I’ll need at least two more weeks. If anyone so much as touches the fucking paint... Just wait until it’s properly hardened, or you’ll fuck up the sale.’ He ended the call slamming his mobile down, then kicked at the frame resting against the table. ‘Fucking stupid arsehole... I’d like to cut his throat.’

Taking a deliberate look at his wristwatch, Jack drained his wine. ‘Look, if you want to get everything out of the Jeep, let’s do it now. I should be home.’

Border quickly regained his composure, putting an arm around Jack’s shoulder. ‘I’ve got you interested again, haven’t I, Mr Detective? We’ll have dinner the next time we meet and catch up on everything that’s happened since we last met.’

For the first time in months, Jack didn’t feel a bubbling anxiety just beneath the surface. Being in the company of an art fraudster like Adam Border who was still on the wanted list could get him into serious trouble, but instead of making him feel stressed, it made him feel alive.

‘Maybe,’ he said with a smile.

With the children now in bed, Maggie sat in the lounge making a list of items still to be collected, hopefully by Marius, within the next few days. Penny came in carrying two cups of hot chocolate.

‘Jack not back yet?’ Penny already knew he wasn’t.

‘No, and I have no idea where he’s gone. To be honest, I wanted him here when I talked to you, but as usual, he’s off doing his own thing.’

Penny hugged the hot mug. ‘It’s all very worrying.’

‘He’s stubborn as a mule. He’s refused to see any more specialists but he also won’t say when he’s going back to work.’

Penny was about to mention the fact that Jack had previously experienced nightmares as a child, when Maggie reached out and took her hand.

‘We appreciate everything you do for us, Penny, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way... but now the loft conversion is finished, and we’ve bought the furnishings, I’m hoping to return to work in the next week or two. So, I was thinking...’

A beaming Penny interrupted. ‘I’m so glad you want to talk about it because I agree... I was going to suggest something that might help ease the pressure on us all, but I wasn’t sure it would be acceptable.’ She paused and Maggie, glad this conversation was going more easily than she’d expected, nodded for Penny to continue. ‘Marius will be back any day now and I was going to suggest, as he has been such a godsend, that he move into the loft. It’d be a double blessing as he can drive me back and forth to school and the shops and be at home with me to look after both Hannah and Charlie. At the same time, if needed, he can do more decorating and handiwork.’ She sat back expectantly.

Maggie tried not to frown or look shocked. ‘Um... I would need to discuss it with Jack.’

‘Oh, I know that, dear. I want you to understand that Marius and I are very close, but purely on a platonic level. He’s a good friend, and we enjoy each other’s company. I would also suggest that he pay a bit of rent.’

‘Hasn’t he got a place?’

‘Yes, a little flat, but I know he’s looking to move, so this just seems... perfect.’

Maggie hesitated, trying to think of the best way to put things. She was not keen on having Marius living in the house, even though he had been doing a great job with all the rebuilding and Hannah liked him.

‘Well, we’re sort of thinking along the same lines I suppose. I was going to suggest that you might need some help with Charlie. He needs so much attention, and I don’t really want him to be in a nursery.’

‘Oh, Marius adores Charlie and vice versa.’

‘What I was thinking, Penny, was maybe getting a part-time helper for the mornings and the school run or perhaps a live-in au pair... as you said, with the new loft extension, we have more than enough room.’

‘Oh no, no. I wouldn’t want anyone else looking after Charlie and Hannah. Besides, it would cost you more money to have a helper or an au pair. I wouldn’t trust anyone else like I do Marius.’

Maggie smiled glumly, deciding she would need Jack to back her up on this one.

‘Maggie, be honest, you’re not concerned about me, are you? I would be very upset if you thought I was incapable of looking after the children.’

‘I’d never think that, nor would Jack. I was worried it might be too much for you when Jack and I are back at work all day.’

Penny was near to tears. ‘It isn’t, it won’t be... I’m upset that you think I can’t cope.’

Maggie put her arms around her. ‘Please, don’t cry. Of course we know you could cope.’

‘Thank you, dear.’ Penny wiped her eyes with a tissue. ‘I think I’m off to bed.’ She stood up then turned back to Maggie.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you something, Maggie. You asked me a few days ago if Jack had any childhood sleeping problems. At first, I couldn’t remember because it was so long ago, but now I recall he did.’

Maggie was all ears. ‘Go on.’

‘They didn’t last long, a month maybe. Terrible screaming fits, and the only way he’d stop was if his dad held him in his arms. He would try to climb out of bed, fists flying, screaming blue murder, and sometimes he seemed still asleep. We asked the children’s home if he had been like it when he was there and they just said he’d been difficult to handle.’

‘Did they tell you the reason?’ Maggie asked.

‘No, but after a while, the nightmares ended and never occurred again. Jack was happy with us, very loving, always holding out his arms for hugs and kisses, and we knew we would never let him go. He was the son, the baby boy we had always wanted.’ She dabbed at her eyes again. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t remember when you first asked.’

‘Well thanks for telling me now,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m sure it’ll be helpful.’

Penny smiled. ‘I do hope so.’

After Penny had gone upstairs, Maggie thought about what she’d just told her. She doubted that Jack’s childhood nightmares were linked to his current sleep problems, which seemed so obviously linked to the trauma of the Middleton case. But perhaps Jack had always responded like this to traumatic events. Maybe something bad had happened to Jack before Penny and Charlie took him in. It was something she’d need to ask Jack, but only when the time was right.

It was almost eleven o’clock when Adam Border dropped Jack off by Maggie’s car. He then headed south, across Putney Bridge and onto the A3 towards Haslemere. After an hour he turned off the A3, then drove along a private lane to an ivy-clad Tudor mansion set in 20 acres of land. It was colloquially known as the ‘Rock and Roll’ mansion, due to the many famous rock bands who had used it as a recording studio over the years.

Border drove past the neatly manicured gardens and outdoor pool, then parked in the large two-car garage. He walked to the rear of the house, passing a flourishing vegetable patch, before kicking off his boots outside the stable door. Inside was a bright, modern kitchen with a long row of copper pans hanging above a welcoming Aga.

Border threw his denim jacket over the back of a chair, flicked on the kettle and got a coffee percolator from the cupboard. He used an electric grinder for fresh coffee beans, and then, with the coffee brewing, he went to the double-doored fridge and removed a bowl of salad.

Helga walked in barefoot, wrapping a silk kimono around herself. Her long blond hair was braided into a thick plait.

‘I was right,’ Adam said. ‘Jack Warr came straight back to the market. I drove him to the old school and had a glass of wine with him.’

‘Taking a risk, aren’t you?’ she said in a strong German accent.

‘Better the devil you know. I thought he’d recognised me at the market, but I needed to be sure.’

She gave a long sigh. ‘I hope you know what you are doing.’

Maggie was woken by the sound of the front door slamming, then Jack coming up the stairs. She hoped he wasn’t drunk or in one of his black moods.

‘Are you awake?’ he asked, opening the door.

‘Yes. I’ve been worried about you all evening. You could have at least rung me or answered my text.’

‘Sorry, I got caught up.’

‘With what?’

‘Tell you in the morning.’ He went to the bathroom. She heard him whistling. She had not seen him so relaxed and pleased with himself in ages, as if the boyish quality she loved in him had returned. He came out of the bathroom wearing only boxer shorts. He threw his jeans and T-shirt onto the floor, then sat on the bed to remove his socks.

Maggie turned off her bedside lamp, lay back and let him put his arms around her. They hadn’t been this comfortable with each other for a long time, so she decided it was not the time to discuss her conversation with Penny.

‘Sorry for leaving the house earlier,’ Jack said. Then he sighed and leaned back against the pillows. ‘I didn’t intend to go back there, Mags, but I thought I recognised him and I was right.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Adam Border. That’s who I’ve been with.’

‘Adam Bo... the man Josh was talking about?’

‘Yes, he took me to his studio.’

‘Oh my God, what are you going to do?’

‘Nothing. Listen, Mags, years ago I made a deal with him for evidence that closed a huge case. That’s all. I doubt anyone’s going to be interested now. I had an interesting conversation with him.’

Maggie wanted to know more but Jack appeared to have gone to sleep. She, on the other hand, was wide awake now, remembering how Josh had described Adam Border as a murderer. She wondered if having Jack’s ‘old self ’ back was going to be a good thing or not.