Picture You Dead

90

Tuesday, 5 November

‘Just in here and the hallway – they didn’t enter any other rooms, Mr and Mrs Kipling?’ PC Alldridge asked.

‘Well, I suppose the kitchen, too – Tom was in there having his supper when they – they—’ She stumbled on her words.

Harry recognized the burly uniformed police officer in his fifties, PC Alldridge, who had been here before. He was sat on the sofa opposite him and Freya, with his same colleague, a feisty-looking man, who had given his name as PC Simmons, beside him. He was giving Freya a sympathetic smile.

An ambulance was parked on the street outside, the two paramedics still attending Tom, who seemed a lot better now, up in his room.

There were two more uniform police officers outside the house, and a detective in her forties, in civilian clothes, with short greying hair and a businesslike manner, checking around the inside. She had identified herself as Val Remington-Hobbs, the duty DI for Brighton and Hove.

‘Please take your time,’ Alldridge coaxed gently. ‘You’ve been through quite an ordeal.’

Freya nodded tearfully. ‘Just the hallway, the kitchen and here.’ She looked at her husband for confirmation.

‘I think you said the American had checked out all the other rooms, darling,’ Harry replied.

She nodded and said, shakily, ‘Yes, yes I’d forgotten. He had a look around.’

‘Can you tell us what happened and how come these people got into your house?’ Alldridge asked.

‘I... I let them in.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘You see, I was expecting a man called Mike Elkington – that was the name he gave me over the phone – he said he needed a builder, urgently, and Harry had been recommended to him.’

‘Did he say by who?’ Alldridge asked, making notes on a small tablet.

She shook her head wearily, the sedative the paramedic had given her making her increasingly drowsy.

‘Can you try to go through the descriptions of your attackers once more, Mrs Kipling?’ PC Simmons asked. ‘So we can circulate it to all our patrols, just in case these people are still out and about.’

Harry, holding Freya’s hand, responded. ‘The main man was tall and thin with a very distinct Southern American accent – you know – drawl. His accomplices were big guys, beefcakes, like nightclub bouncers.’ Then he remembered. ‘Oh yes, one – the one that came with me to the depot in Worthing – was called Ross or Russ or something like that.’

‘Ross?’ PC Simmons echoed as his colleague appeared to write this into his tablet. ‘What kind of an accent did this person – Ross – have?’ he asked.

Harry shook his head. ‘I never heard him actually speak.’ At that moment he noticed DI Remington-Hobbs standing in the doorway, looking around for a moment before coming into the room.

‘Mr and Mrs Kipling,’ she said, ‘you and your son have been through quite a trauma, and we are thankful you are safe now. For your reassurance, I’m going to post an officer outside your house for the rest of the night, so you’ll be able to get, hopefully, as much of a good night’s sleep as you can. Because of the gravity of this incident, I’ve requested the involvement of the Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team, but asked them not to contact you until tomorrow morning.’ She smiled, looking at her watch. ‘It’s past 10.30 p.m. and I don’t think it would be productive for them to attend tonight, it looks to me like you all need some rest. They will probably require you and your son to come to the CID HQ for interviews, to see what else you can remember about these criminals, when you are feeling fresher, and your son is better.’

Harry and Freya looked at each other before Harry spoke. ‘We’ve already spoken with two detectives after our break-in.’ Then Freya asked her, ‘Can Tom go to school tomorrow if he’s feeling up to it?’

The Detective Inspector hesitated. ‘Well, I think it would be better if he took the day off – or at least the morning, anyway. Just like you and your husband, Tom may have valuable information for us, and it would be good for him to be interviewed while all this is fresh in his mind.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Freya said.

‘We’ll do whatever you need,’ Harry added.

‘I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,’ the DI said. ‘What a nightmare. And obviously we need to consider a link between this and the break-in you had here previously. Hopefully, we’ll catch the offenders and get your painting back. Is it insured?’

Harry shook his head ruefully. ‘We never insured it because we didn’t know what its real value is – we were about to hand it to an auction house who were going to have their experts study it in depth, with a view to putting it into a sale in January – if they could establish to their satisfaction it was genuine.’

‘What would it be worth if so?’ the DI asked.

Harry shrugged. ‘Five million, perhaps more.’

The DI looked astounded. ‘Five million pounds?’

He nodded and glanced at Freya who said, ‘Maybe, but so far it’s not brought us much happiness or luck.’

‘Let’s see if we can change that,’ Val Remington-Hobbs said breezily.

‘You really think you have a hope of getting that painting back?’ Harry asked.

‘We will do all we can,’ the DI replied.

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘I’m already reading your quote in tomorrow’s Argus. “We will do all we can to catch these offenders, said Detective Inspector Remington-Hobbs.”’

Ignoring Freya, who had raised a placating hand, he shook his head at the detective. ‘Good luck with that one.’