The Bach Manuscript

Chapter 17

McAllister was looking at him, frowning and waiting for more. Ben said, ‘Nick played an organ recital at the cathedral last night.’

‘We know that. So what?’

‘So, his hands were probably hurting afterwards,’ Ben said. ‘It was a worsening problem for him. I think he was more worried about it than he let on. My guess is, he came home and went straight into his smoking room for a joint, because he was in pain. He’d have bolted himself in, because he was obviously cautious that way. Then he relaxed in his chair and must have smoked himself asleep. That’s why he was still dressed when it happened, because he hadn’t gone to bed.’

‘Go on.’

‘Then around four in the morning, the noise of the intruders woke him up and he called me. Still bolted into his smoking room. See the point I’m making?’

‘Why does it matter where he called you from?’

‘It matters, because it means that they were already smashing the place up before they knew about the drugs, because otherwise they’d have kicked the door down and gone straight after them. If they didn’t, it’s because they were looking for something else. Something other than the usual kinds of loot a burglar looks to steal, stuff that’s quick and easy to sell on through their usual channels.’

McAllister considered it. ‘Okay. Makes sense, so far. Then what were they looking for?’

Ben shook his head. ‘That’s what I’m missing. Whatever it was, they didn’t touch any of his other stuff. Like a targeted robbery with a specific intention. Which is generally the domain of professional thieves. And that’s where the mystery is here. A contradiction. Pros wouldn’t have turned the place over like a bomb crater. They’d have taken what they came for, in and out. Instead, this bunch must have smelled the dope through the bedroom door and seen an opportunity to score something extra for themselves.’

McAllister thought about it, and nodded slowly. ‘You’re saying they were working for someone else.’

‘That’s the only way this makes any sense,’ Ben said. ‘They were paid to come and take something very specific. The drugs had nothing to do with it. But this was strictly amateur night. Whoever hired these rent-a-thugs didn’t pay a top-dollar price, that’s for sure.’

‘So they sniff the dope and they figure out it’s coming from the bedroom,’ McAllister said, walking through the motions. ‘At this point maybe they don’t know anyone’s in there, but they’d soon find out when they discovered the door was bolted shut from inside.’ He stopped at the door and turned to look at Ben. ‘Why didn’t they just kick the door in? There’s not a mark on it.’

Ben said, ‘Maybe Nick came out before they had a chance to break it down. They grabbed him and started beating him, which is how his face got all battered. Then they dragged him over here to the window, knocking that harpsichord sideways on their way. And flung him through the glass.’

‘Bastards. But why kill him?’

‘No masks,’ Ben said. ‘Like I said, amateur night. Maybe he saw their faces.’

‘In which case they thought they had to rub out the witness.’

‘That’s one possible alternative. The other is they killed him just for the hell of it. Like you said, McAllister, bad bastards.’

‘All right,’ McAllister said, putting up his hands. ‘It’s a credible enough theory as far as it goes. But until you know exactly what they took, and therefore what someone else instructed them to take, it’s just supposition.’

Ben paced slowly around the room, scanning every inch. His eye landed on the shattered remains of the toppled glass display cabinet. He sank into a crouch next to it.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ McAllister warned him.

‘As if,’ Ben said. He took the switchblade from his pocket, flicked it open and used the long stiletto blade to sift around in the mess of broken glass.

‘I’d pull you in for carrying that,’ McAllister said.

‘Except you’re not exactly a run-of-the-mill cop.’

‘Any other hardware I should know about?’

‘No gun,’ Ben said. ‘I told you, I’m a businessman.’

‘Right.’

Ben went on sifting carefully through the broken glass, at the same time recalling the things he’d seen inside the display cabinet the day before. Nick’s collection of small alabaster composer busts were lying about among the wreckage. So was the phony lock of Chopin’s hair, the metronome, now smashed with its mechanical innards hanging out, and the various other musical knick-knacks Ben remembered seeing on display.

All except one.

‘Something’s missing here,’ Ben said. ‘His Bach manuscript.’

‘His what?’

Ben rose to his feet, clicked the knife shut and put it away. He turned and pointed at the Bach portrait on the wall. ‘See the sheet of musical notation he’s holding in the picture? It looked like that, except it was several sheets. It was definitely here. And now it’s gone.’

‘Would you recognise it? Any identifying marks?’

‘Apart from the fact it’s allegedly hundreds of years old and not exactly something you’d see every day, just two. Namely the signature of Johann Sebastian Bach on the front, and a brown stain that covers about quarter of the bottom right-hand corner of the same page.’

‘What kind of a brown stain?’

‘Nick said it was coffee. Could be mildew. Or something else. It was hard to tell.’

‘So where is this thing?’

‘You’re the detective. You tell me.’

McAllister pulled a face. ‘Maybe your friend took it out of there.’

‘Or maybe someone else did.’

‘Is it valuable?’

‘Nick said it was a fake,’ Ben replied. ‘But what if he was just saying that? Or what if he only thought it was? Doesn’t matter. If someone wanted it badly enough to kill for it, they must’ve believed it was genuine.’

McAllister puffed his cheeks. ‘A music manuscript. Jesus, that’s way out of my area of knowledge.’

‘And mine,’ Ben said.

‘We’d be talking about a very specialised robbery.’

‘But a substantially narrowed list of potential suspects,’ Ben said. He stared at the floor and started chewing his lip.

McAllister was frowning as if he was highly uncertain about this new theory. ‘What else can you tell me about this manuscript?’

Ben said nothing.

‘Hey. I asked you a question.’

Ben was silent.

McAllister stared at him. ‘Hello? Anyone at home?’

Ben made no reply.

McAllister’s frown turned to a look of annoyance. ‘Are you going to stand there all day like Mum’s chance?’

‘I’m thinking.’

‘If you’re onto something that can help me catch these bastards, I need to know.’

Ben already knew enough about this Tom McAllister to have worked out he was a pretty shrewd and capable officer. That was why Ben was saying nothing more. Because a smart cop like McAllister had a better chance of catching Nick Hawthorne’s killers than most policemen Ben had known.

And Ben didn’t want them caught. Not by the police. If that happened, the worst fate that could befall them would be to end up in a nice warm cell with three meals a day, at the expense of law-abiding taxpayers. That was a little more comfort than these men deserved.

Now it was McAllister’s turn to be silent as he stood watching Ben, as though reading his thoughts. ‘I hope you’re not thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking.’

‘That’s a lot of thinking,’ Ben said. ‘Watch you don’t blow a fuse.’

‘You know what I mean. And I know who you are.’

‘No,’ Ben replied. ‘You don’t know the first thing about me.’

‘I don’t have my head up my arse like Forbsie. I’ve a pretty good idea what a man like you is capable of. And I don’t want trouble. I hate these shites as much as you do. But if we start finding more dead bodies lying around—’

‘That’s not what I do,’ Ben said.

‘Don’t kid me. I can see it in your eyes. Think I haven’t seen that look before?’

Ben said, ‘I mean, I wouldn’t leave them lying around. No mess, no trace. They’d disappear, like they never existed. And when I catch them, they’ll wish they never had existed.’

‘You’re warned.’

Ben looked evenly at the cop. ‘So are you, Inspector. Because believe it or not, I like you. You seem like a good guy. So don’t get in the way.’

McAllister was returning Ben’s steady eye contact as the two of them squared off like opponents before a fight. ‘Get in the way of what?’ he asked.

‘Of what happens next,’ Ben said.