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“Was it found in the footman’s room?” Harry asked.
“He wasn’t one of the live-in staff. He was hired on a temporary basis for the ball.” D.I. Hobart removed his notebook from his inside jacket pocket. “The catering firm, Searcys, organize the extra staff.” He returned the notebook to his pocket. “The painting was found in a cupboard with the footman’s coat wrapped around it.”
“You think someone else took down the painting and wrapped it up in his coat to frame him,” Harry said.
“No. The footman confessed. He claims he took it. But he also claims he was about to put it back, but then the murder happened and he couldn’t do it without being seen.”
“Maybe he did murder the victim,” Harry said. “Perhaps he was in the process of putting the painting back, the victim saw him, so the footman killed him to stop him raising the alarm.”
“Then why didn’t the footman put the painting backafterhe killed Mr. McDonald?” I said.
Harry rubbed his jaw. “Good point.”
“Did the footman say why he was going to put the painting back?”
D.I. Hobart nodded. “He claims it’s a fake.”
Harry and I exchanged glances. He must have remembered the Bunburys’ financial problems from our last investigation.
“According to the footman, it wasn’t well executed,” D.I. Hobart went on. “The artist of the original is considered a master. It’s unlikely a casual observer would realize, but a close study revealed the poor quality. The footman claims to be an artist in his spare time, and once he gave it a thorough inspection, he realized it wasn’t done by the original artist and decided to put it back.”
“An independent assessment will verify his claim,” I said.
D.I. Hobart shook his head. “There will be no independent verification and the Bunburys’ will vow it is an original if the matter is ever raised by the defense in court. The prosecution will say the footman is lying and that he never intended to return the painting. Since he admits stealing it, there is a very real chance the jury will find him guilty of the murder too. Guilty of one crime, guilty of another—so many believe.”
The Bunburys didn’t want a thorough investigation because they didn’t want the public to know their paintings were fakes, just like they didn’t want word to get out about their replica jewels. By denying the footman’s story, they could maintain the façade of wealth.
But rumors of their financial troubles were already circulating last night. It might be too late to contain them.
“Do you think the footman stole the other painting three weeks ago?” Harry asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” his father said. “When I asked him where he was that night, he said he was with a friend but refused to give the name of that friend.”
We all knew what that really meant. He was with a lover whose reputation would be compromised if it was known she was with a man.
“It seems too coincidental that the thefts happened independently of one another,” D.I. Hobart went on. “But I can’t prove they’re linked. I also can’t prove that the thefts are linked to the murder. They may not be. The upshot is, the footman may indeed be guilty of both theftsandthe murder. I simply don’t know yet. I want to be absolutely certain we have the right man, but there are too many unanswered questions for my liking. I don’t want to close this case yet, but I’m not allowed to continue with it. Hence why I want you two to investigate. You’re proving to be very capable private detectives.”
It was high praise indeed coming from a man with his experience.
I was about to tell them what I knew about the victim when Harry said, “I’ll take the case, but I don’t think it’s wise to involve Cleo. Her family is too close to the Bunburys and many of the guests who were there last night. It would put her in an awkward position.”
I bristled. “Nonsense. It puts me in the perfect position to observe them. This is the perfect case for me and glaring at me won’t change that, Harry. Your father agrees or why would he have asked me?”
Harry continued to glare. I continued to glare back.
D.I. Hobart withdrew his notepad again and wrote down two addresses. He pointed to the first. “The footman’s name is Reggie Smith and this is his address. He lives in a boarding house. It might be worth questioning the other residents. The second is the Grosvenor Square address where the painting was stolen from three weeks ago. You should speak to the owner. I didn’t work on that investigation, but I can speak to the detective involved, if necessary.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll help in any way I can, but my hands are mostly tied now. Keep me informed.” He plucked his hat off the stand near the door and settled it on his head. “And try to set aside whatever has come between you and work together on this. There may be a murderer on the loose. Petty squabbles aren’t important.”
“We’re not squabbling,” I muttered at the same time Harry said, “It’s not petty.”
Despite our protests, D.I. Hobart was right. We were acting like children and it had to stop. There were two ways to ease the tension—confront the issue and get it out into the open, or ignore it. Based on his silence, Harry had chosen the latter. I wasn’t sure it was the wisest choice, but I was willing to go along with it if it worked.
I just wanted things to return to normal.
Chapter3
The silent treatment wasn’t the best way to restore harmony between us. Of that I was certain. So I did the opposite. I talked about the case without pause. By the time we reached the footman’s flat, Harry knew all the gossip I’d heard at the ball and afterwards. He also knew everyone’s movements on that night, as far as I could remember them. He was most interested in the sighting of Ambrose McDonald studying the painting, who he studied it with, and why Lady Bunbury was so keen to speak to them.
“The most likely answer is that she didn’t want them staring at it too long,” I said. “She was worried they’d discover it was fake—like so many other things in their house, including the library painting.”
