The Art of Murder

Chapter 5

Five minutes later, Jackson Price was installed on one of the leather sofas in reception, nursing a mug of steaming peppermint tea. He hadn't said a word since entering the main room and was now staring fixedly into space. Pendragon was seated at the other end of the long sofa. He studied Price in profile. He was a handsome man: entirely bald, head smoothed to a shine; taut ebony skin; facial bones prominent but elegantly proportioned; eyelashes long. He had the air of an actor or an impresario. The two of them were alone in the reception area but nothing could be done about the occasional sounds coming from the gallery as Jones worked on the corpse.

'I realise this is extremely difficult,' Pendragon began. 'But… do you know the dead man?'

Price turned to him, his face fixed in a blank expression, as though still processing what Pendragon had asked. 'It's Kingsley Berrick,' he said at length, his voice a monotone. 'My business partner. He has a distinctive scar on his chin, just here.' He pointed to a region just below his lower lip, then looked away towards the huge canvases on the far wall.

Pendragon nodded. 'When did you last see him alive?'

Price turned back and seemed to unwind a little. He took a deep breath and then a sip of the hot tea. 'Last night, at the private view.'

'Can you talk me through it?'

'It was a Luke Martin retrospective – these big canvases?' And he nodded across the room to a wall-sized expanse of turquoise. 'Some of the crasser journalists call him the "English Mark Rothko". Absurd, of course.' He sniffed and took another sip of peppermint tea. 'Anyway, it was a great success. The hacks claimed they loved it. We even had a couple of young royals here – admittedly from the wrong branch of the tree,' he added with a wave of his hand. 'A sprinkling of rock stars, old and young, and Casper Hammond popped in, en route to his hotel, straight off the plane from Hollywood… apparently. Best of all, everything was sold by nine o'clock.'

'And Mr Berrick?'

Jackson Price looked back at his tea, suddenly quiet. For a few moments it had seemed as though he had slipped into an alternate reality, one in which nothing terrible had happened. Now he was back confronting the grim truth. 'Oh, Kingsley was in a fabulous mood,' Price said quietly. 'He was terribly nervous earlier in the evening. But he always was a worrier. If I told him once, I told him a thousand times that worrying would be the death…'

'Mr Price, did Kingsley Berrick have any enemies?'

'Enemies?' Price shook his head. 'The very idea is simply preposterous, Chief Inspector. Everyone loved Kingsley.'

Pendragon decided to change tack. 'Did you see him leave last night?'

'Yes. As a matter of fact, I did. It was late… must have been oh, let me see… one o'clock? There were only a few of us still here. He left with Norman.'

'Norman?'

'Norman Hedridge, Kingsley's partner. Well, ex-partner. They're still friends, but no longer an item.'

'I see. And did Mr Berrick say where they were going?'

'Home.'

'And who remained behind with you?'

Price looked down at his cup again and took another sip before answering, 'Chester and Selina. Yes, that's it. Just the three of us.'

'Then?'

'Well, we stayed and chatted for a bit. Selina left before Chester. I set the alarm and went home.'

'Can anyone verify your movements after you left?'

Price looked startled for a moment. 'My mother was still up. I live with her.'

'She stayed up that late?'

'She's a worrier too.'

Pendragon paused for a beat. 'So how did the cleaner get in?'

'The cleaner?'

'The East European woman.' Pendragon paused for a second to recall her name. 'Helena Lutsenko.'

'Oh, right.' Price took a sip of tea. 'A couple of students live over the gallery. We pay them to let the cleaner in and out twice a week. I don't normally surface till at least ten.' He smiled for the first time, a big white slash across his face. 'Surely you don't think the cleaner…?'

Pendragon ignored this. 'I'm grateful. It must be a terrible shock for you. We will need to have a much more in-depth talk later… you understand?'

Price stared at him with his blank expression again. It looked as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it. Opting to nod instead, he turned back to his tea.