Vanished

Chapter 18

The chef’s curly brown hair was scraped back off her face and hidden beneath a hair net. She was unpacking and arranging four different types of shop-bought canapés onto large silver platters ready to be taken out into the small gathering of mourners. Two waitresses, dressed immaculately in black and white, waited for their instructions. They all looked the part, down to the last detail — if it hadn’t been for the earpiece, barely visible beneath the chef’s hairnet, no one would have suspected that they were all Drug Squad... as was the gardener raking leaves from the front lawn and the woman waiting at the bus stop on the main road at the end of the private lane entrance. She could clearly see any passenger getting off buses in both directions and would radio in to the duty officer outside Avril’s house.

In the driveway, a white catering van was tucked against the bushes out of the way. This also belonged to the Drug Squad. Inside the van, Moley and Sergeant Mike Tulley monitored the system of hidden cameras inside the property. As planned, the external feed from the cameras was now live rather than looped footage, just in case any of the drug dealers were watching.

Ridley stood near the open fireplace in the drawing room, holding a champagne flute filled with fresh orange juice. From there, he could see the front door where Terence diligently met every guest and directed them to the circling waitresses, one carrying canapés and the other carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Ridley could also see the bottom of the staircase, which had been blocked by a red barrier rope, making the upstairs look mysterious, like the private area in a nightclub or exclusive bar, rather than the scene of a horrific murder.

Jack had positioned himself at the opposite end of the room, so he could watch all of the cars arriving. He could see Hester Mancroft sitting alone in a far corner of the drawing room, looking at the photograph of Avril chosen to adorn the front of the order of service. She cried quietly behind a freshly ironed hanky. Her seat was surrounded by a few of bouquets of flowers, all of which were destined for the old people’s home on Kingston Hill. Jack wanted to go and ask if she was OK, but he couldn’t risk getting stuck talking to her. If the day passed uneventfully, he’d spend a little time with Hester before she journeyed back to Hove.

As Jack looked out of the front window, a Jaguar with tinted windows pulled into the grounds and parked behind the catering van. Jack perked up and actually stood taller, like a meerkat having spotted something potentially dangerous. The smart-casually dressed driver got out of the Jag and headed for the house — and immediately behind him, Mike Tulley, dressed in a smart black suit, stepped from the catering van and followed him in. The driver had been clocked and was now under discreet surveillance. He was a tall slender man, not dissimilar in appearance to the man who’d arrived at the house on the night Avril was murdered, but without facial recognition there was no way of knowing. Whilst Jack did a quick trace on the Jag’s number plate, he casually moved closer to the doorway of the drawing room so he could hear Terence greet the driver.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Jenkins. I’m Jason Marks. I met Avril through her husband’s business dealings. Your brother and I shared an affinity for beautiful art.’

‘Are you a collector, Mr Marks? I don’t mean to sound crass but, if it interests you, I’ll be selling much of the house’s contents, once I’m allowed. I can’t take most of it back to the States with me, so... I would like it to go to a good home. An art appreciator, like yourself.’

Jason Marks kindly offered to speak with Terence at a time more convenient to him and mentioned that he’d happily value and catalogue the contents of the house and help him to avoid being ripped off during any house clearance sales. He then headed into the drawing room, collecting a flute of champagne on the way.

Jason walked straight past Jack and settled into a wingback chair positioned next to the fireplace where Ridley was still standing. He was already eyeing the antiques: his gaze caressed the Moorcroft Flambe Eventide vase that sat inside the fire grate, the wall-mounted brass fire poker, and the handwoven Persian rug beneath his feet. You could almost see him totting up his percentage...

Ridley, currently less than ten feet from Jason, had just been collared by Arnold Hutchinson, who was talking about Avril’s will, Terence’s inheritance and the associated timeframes relating to probate and the ongoing police investigation. The information that Avril had been found dead in her own home was in the public domain, so it didn’t matter if that was overheard by Jason, but Ridley was fearful of Arnold unwittingly referring to him as ‘DCI Ridley’, so he put a gentle hand on Arnold’s elbow and steered him away whilst saying something about trying the canapés.

Meanwhile, Jason continued to not-so-subtly peruse the room from behind his champagne flute — clearly window shopping. His eyes paused again on a pair of antique Sevres Bisque figurines depicting grape gatherers, one male and one female. He couldn’t help but get up and take a closer look. Under the guise of heading for the waitress with canapés, Jack moved casually towards him. Pointing to the large sun-bleached outline on the wallpaper above the Sevres figurines, where a painting had once hung, he said, simply, ‘Criminal.’

‘Art theft?’ Jason looked quizzically at Jack. ‘Yes, it certainly is.’

‘Jack Warr,’ Jack introduced himself. ‘I was part of the investigation into Mrs Jenkins’ missing property. Art’s not just a financial investment to most people, is it? It’s an emotional one. You have to love something to spend... what would this set you back?’ Jack picked up the female figurine.

‘They’re about a thousand a piece. Nothing compared to some of the items in this room. I’m a bit of a collector.’ Jason Marks offered his hand. ‘Jason Marks. I recently worked alongside Mrs Jenkins’ insurance company. Freddie had a great eye for quality.’

‘Not Avril?’

Jason smiled. ‘I think buying with your heart is admirable. Although perhaps not profitable. I was closer to her husband, as we both had the misfortune to be involved in the Icelandic crash.’ Jason Marks adjusted his perfect tie, allowing Jack to notice that he was wearing a heavy gold-and-cornelian ring on his pinkie finger.

As Jack made polite conversation about various antiques around the room, Mike made his way to Ridley’s side and questioned Jack’s decision to actually introduce himself to the man who may have been lounging in this very drawing room, whilst Avril was murdered and dismembered upstairs. Ridley didn’t even crack a smile. ‘It’s almost as though it might be the last thing he’d expect a policeman to do, don’t you think?’ Mike scowled, reminding Ridley that this case was being led by DCI Lewis and the Drug Squad, so their preferred tactics should be respected. ‘As far as I’m aware, DS Tulley,’ Ridley said, emphasising Mike’s rank as a way of putting him in his place, ‘DCI Lewis isn’t here.’ He walked away without another word.

Jack didn’t stay with Jason Marks for longer than a couple of minutes before he excused himself and headed for Hester. Jack crouched in front of her, so she could see his face. It took a few seconds for her to remember how she knew him but, when she did, she immediately started to cry. ‘I never thought she’d go before me.’ Hester smiled through her tears. ‘She was always the last to leave a party.’ Jack gently placed his hand on top of Hester’s. Before leaving her, he made sure she had a full glass of champagne, and that she had the means to get to her hotel after the wake drew to a close, but she was actually was very well organised. She’d even decided to order a pizza and a bottle of stout for her dinner at the hotel, in memory of Avril’s favourite meal from their youth.

Over the next hour, the drawing room continued to hum with conversation. When Terence had finished greeting people as they arrived and started to mingle, Ridley and Jack slipped out, one at a time and ten minutes apart.

Ridley’s car was tucked down the side of the house, away from the main area designated for parking. Ridley was reading about Jason Marks on his mobile phone. ‘No record. He’s worked in the banking world all of his adult life. Climbed quickly. Some investments, like Frederick Jenkins, so that stacks up.’ At that moment, a phone call came through from Steve Lewis, which Ridley put on speaker.

‘Simon, look, I’m out for lunch, so I’ll keep this brief. Your man, Jack Warr, I need you to keep him on a tighter leash. Jason Marks, if he’s involved, is a small part of a much bigger picture. We can’t have him being tipped off and blabbing to the higher-ups.’ Steve snorted. ‘There’s nothing “undercover” about walking up to a suspect and introducing yourself, Simon. I know Warr’s probably not well versed in this sort of work, so best leave it to us, eh?’

Ridley agreed wholeheartedly with every word Steve said, wished him a pleasant afternoon and hung up. He then turned the sound off on his mobile and put it into the central compartment between the front seats. ‘Don’t give that little hissy fit a second thought,’ he said.

Jack’s mobile pinged as a result on the Jag’s number plate came through. ‘It’s a rental.’ Jack let out a long whistle as he scrolled through the hire prices. ‘From a very high-end Knightsbridge company. They’ve also got an underground car park at Number One Hyde Park. Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, Range Rovers, Maseratis, Ferraris, Jags...’

At this point, people began filtering out of Avril’s house. Terence retook his place in the doorway and, just as he had done when people entered, he now thanked them again as they left. Jason Marks shook Terence’s hand, left him with a business card and headed for his Jag. Close behind Jason was Mike Tulley, who clocked Ridley and Jack tucked down the side of the house. He briefly stared daggers at Jack as he walked to his unmarked BMW 5 Series and followed Jason out of the gate.

‘They’ve all got really big bollocks over in Staines,’ Jack joked.

Ridley started the engine. ‘Yeah. I don’t know how they sit down.’