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‘So let’s assume the killer took Maria’s mobile off her sometime on the day of her death, either in the afternoon or early evening.’
‘Damn!’ Wilson, who had been scrabbling through the file of papers on his lap, swore as they suddenly slipped from his grasp and descended in a shower on to the floor. ‘Sorry!’ he said, the compulsive apology springing to his lips. Down on his knees he grabbed one piece out of the pile, and held it aloft. ‘I was just checking. Maria’s last call out on her phone was 13.35 that day. To Dominic Russell. So she had the mobile then for sure.’
‘Not absolutely for sure.’ It was Lawson again. ‘Wilson is probably right, and I’m not saying he isn’t—’
‘Get to the point, for God’s sake.’ Holden had had enough of ifs and maybes and buts. They had to make assumptions somewhere along the line.
Lawson lifted her hands, palms upwards, as if in supplication. ‘It’s just that there’s no certainty that the killer didn’t make that call.’
Fox, conscious he was in danger of being sidelined, broke in. ‘Well, we can’t ask Dominic, can we!’
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ Holden’s reply was heavy with sarcasm. She sank her head in her hands and tried to think. Don’t panic, don’t let it overwhelm you! She could hear her heart pounding, reverberating between her hands and her temples. Faster than it should be. Don’t let me be overwhelmed, she pleaded, getting as close to prayer as she ever did. Please don’t!
She raised her head, and spoke. ‘The people who most obviously had access to her mobile are her family. Namely Alan Tull, Lucy Tull, and Joseph Tull. Any one could have pocketed it in the house. None of them has a watertight alibi. So we could start with them, but we also need to find out what she did and who she saw that afternoon. Did she have any work appointments? If she rang Dominic Russell at lunchtime, maybe it was because she wanted to see him in the afternoon? Did she go to the dentist or the hairdresser, or to the Ashmolean for a last-minute piece of research on the art of Venice? Did anyone visit her at home that afternoon and pocket her mobile then? Otherwise, we’re looking at the Tulls.’
She scanned the faces of her three colleagues. Wilson and Lawson shone with excitement, with the sense that they had made a breakthrough and the hunt was truly on. Even Fox had jettisoned his natural look of surly diffidence, and when her stare remained focused on him, he took the hint and responded: ‘So we’re going to interview them again?’
‘Yes and no. I don’t want to alert them. I’ll give Dr Tull a ring and suggest I need to chat, make it sound more an update on the case than an interview. I can ask him what his wife did on that day easily enough. I can ask if she kept a diary or wrote appointments on a calendar? We play it as casually as we can. But I want us to turn up there with a search warrant in our proverbial back pocket. Because the bottom line is we need to check computers, hand-held devices, pen drives, mobiles, whatever they’ve got, for the photo of Jack Smith and the painting we found on Jack Smith’s mobile, not to mention anything to do with Maria. So if the good doctor objects, out comes the warrant. Any other questions?’
‘Yes,’ Lawson said hurriedly. ‘What about the Judas painting?’
‘Ah, good point,’ Holden said. ‘Thank you for reminding me.’ She turned towards Fox and Wilson. ‘I assume you’re up to date on this?’
They nodded.
‘Any thoughts? It just that Lawson and I had a long chat yesterday and. …’ She faded to a halt. Her right hand, Lawson noticed, was pulling at her collar again. ‘Come on, Wilson. Any ideas?’ It was unfair, she knew. If she was going to apply pressure, apply it to Fox. Hell, he was much more experienced.
‘Maria got it off Jack Smith because she thought she could make money on it.’ Wilson had clearly been thinking about it a lot, for he spoke carefully, as if he was recalling lines he had just learnt for a school play, but without having the confidence to apply any variation in tone or emphasis to them. ‘She gave it to Dominic because she thought he could help her get the best price. The killer murders her, then Jack Smith, and then arranges to meet Dominic. Dominic realizes too late that the person he is meeting is the killer, and damages the painting to make it worthless and save his own life. But the killer shoots him because he knows too much.’
‘Impressive, Wilson,’ Holden said. ‘And possible. However,’ she continued, taking great care in how she phrased her misgivings, ‘I do wonder if someone would have killed three people for a painting that might fetch at best ten thousand pounds.’
‘Why not?’ Fox countered with sudden force. ‘If you need the money enough, why the hell not?’ And he slurped noisily from his cup, as if the matter was well and truly settled.
‘Why does it have to come down to money?’ The question – or perhaps it was a challenge – came from Lawson.
Fox laughed dismissively. ‘Money or sex. It’s nearly always money or sex.’ And he laughed again, ridiculing the young woman’s idea.
‘Constable Lawson.’ Holden deliberately looked directly at her protégé, ignoring Fox totally. ‘Perhaps you can explain your thinking. Sergeant Fox doesn’t have a monopoly on good ideas, at least not in this office.’
Lawson began slowly, feeling her way. ‘Maybe what we should be focusing on is the painting’s subject. It may not be of great artistic merit, but it is very unusual. Mary the mother of Jesus going round to visit the mother of Judas after he has betrayed her son. Now if that had been the work of an even moderately well-known painter, it might have been hugely valuable to someone. But even though it’s by an unknown artist, who’s to say that there aren’t people out there who might want it very much, so much so in fact that they’d pay over the odds despite its technical limitations?’
‘Ah!’ Fox jumped in again, apparently unaffected by his superior’s rebuke. ‘So it is all about money.’
‘Shut up, Sergeant.’ This time she looked at him, and the acid in her voice and the thunder on her face finally caused his smirk to fade.
Lawson plunged on. ‘I don’t mean they would necessarily want to hang it on their walls. Maybe just the opposite. Maybe they’d want to destroy it because it contradicts the Bible. Do you know how Judas is described in St John’s Gospel?’ She paused, and realized that she’d got the attention of all of them, even the dismissive Fox. ‘“Satan entered into him.” That’s what St John wrote. The same John who sat at the table with Jesus and Judas at the last supper. “Satan entered into him”.’
‘So what the hell does that prove?’ Fox interrupted.
Lawson looked unflinchingly into his eyes. ‘There was an artist who created twelve stained-glass windows of Jesus’ disciples for a church in Dorset. He insisted on including Judas along with all the others. I’m not sure exactly what his point was, maybe to underline the fact that they all betrayed their Lord, and not just Judas, but the parishioners refused to allow Judas’s image into their church. My point, Sarge, is that Judas is, and always has been, a controversial figure. Maybe Maria and Dominic realized that, and reckoned it might be worth a lot more than it deserved on artistic merit alone.’
Fox grunted cheerfully. ‘So when push comes to shove, it is about money.’
‘For Maria and Dominic, maybe,’ Lawson conceded. ‘But. …’ She paused, determined to ensure she had all their attention for what she was about to say. ‘For the killer, maybe the money was irrelevant. Maybe it was all about getting hold of and destroying a painting he or she saw as blasphemous.’
CHAPTER 10
