When Alice arrived at The Good Household Management Agency offices with Agatha, Jinx met her in the corridor and gave her the spare clothes she now kept for her in the closet. She was grateful that Jinx had remembered that she would be dressed in her uniform — one that Alice now realised she’d become completely used to.
‘Just act normal,’ Jinx said in a worried hiss, pressing the clothes against Alice with an ominous look. Jinx ignored Agatha for a moment, who made a disappointed whining noise until Jinx picked her up and gave her a smooch. ‘Oh, and that appointment’s booked by the way. For, ahem, nudge, nudge, wink, wink—’ Jinx, rather unnecessarily mimed both these things too ‘—Martina McKlusky at Audley Manor on Thursday. Noon.’
‘Martina McKlusky?’ Alice said. ‘Was that the best you could come up with?’
Alice quickly changed in the loo. Ignoring Agatha who was barking and running around in little circles ofjoy, Alice picked up some post from Helly’s desk, as if she was just breezily getting back from a meeting, then went in to meet her visitor. She felt bad, but she’d already decided that she didn’t want to go getting Gerda’s hopes up by sharing her theories with her, at least not until she’d made full sense of them herself.
Gerda was standing, inspecting the framed print from Mrs Beeton’s book. The one Enya had looked at too.
‘Gerda? How can I help you?’ Alice said, briefly shaking her hand, before rounding her desk and sitting down. ‘Your cold is better?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
As Alice met her clear gaze, a shiver went down her spine. She understood why Jinx had been so nervy now. There was something off about Gerda. She was different to before. Businesslike, but steely too.
‘I’m glad,’ Alice said. ‘Please do take a seat.’ She gestured to the chair opposite her, but Gerda remained standing.
‘I demand to know if you’ve uncovered anything about Enya’s death. As you promised?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t say I have,’ Alice said, taken aback by Gerda’s confrontational tone. ‘Although I’ve been trying, of course. Asking around …’
‘You haven’t been to the police?’
Alice felt herself blushing, recalling how she’d given the detective soda cake. But she hadn’t told him about Gerda. She’d been discreet about that.
‘Er … no, but um … I don’t think they have many leads …’
She tried to meet Gerda’s eye but failed. As the silence stretched between them, a ripple of apprehension ran through her.
‘You’re a terrible liar, Miss Beeton.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Shall we be straight?’ Gerda said. ‘You see, it’s true that Enya and I were friends … but in a professional sense.’
‘Yes, you told me you used to work as au pairs together … and then in hotels …’
‘No, I mean we’re colleagues now. Or at least we were, until she was killed.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow …’
‘We both work for Interpol.’
Alice stared at her. ‘Interpol … as in …?’
‘Yes, the International Criminal Police Organisation,’ she said.
Alice was thinking about James Bond and the various spy thrillers she’d read. Gerda was actually from Interpol? And Enya had been too?
‘We’ve been working to recover a missing Rembrandt painting called The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, which was stolen from a gallery in the United States in nineteen ninety. It has an estimated value of two hundred and forty million dollars.’
‘Two hundred and … oh, my goodness,’ Alice said, her mind reeling.
Gerda leaned forward, putting her strong hands on the edge of Alice’s desk. ‘A couple of months ago, we received intelligence that the art dealer Alex Messent was to be involved in the sale of this stolen masterpiece.’
‘But surely that’s impossible? Who would buy it? Could buy it?’
Gerda let out a humourless chuckle. ‘Oh, Miss Beeton, you have no idea how nefarious the art world can be. It may come as a surprise to you, but at least half the Rembrandts on display in museums across the world are fakes.’
My God, Alice thought, was that what Enya had been doing visiting all those exhibitions? Looking to see which of the Great Masters on show could be counterfeits? Was that what her comments on those stubs had been? Ratings of how well they’d been faked?
‘There are plenty of people — private collectors — from all over the world, who’d happily compete at auction in order to pay handsomely for these missing originals to be in their homes.’
‘But that’s so … selfish.’ Alice really couldn’t think of another word.
‘That doesn’t bother them one bit. But that’s the rich for you. They believe themselves to be above the law and entitled to whatever they want. Trust me, if this sale goes ahead, then this Rembrandt will most likely vanish forever.’
‘I really don’t understand what any of this has to do with me?’ Alice felt another shiver of fear as Gerda’s eyes locked with hers.
‘I’m afraid it has everything to do with you. It’s only thanks to your help that we were able to engineer Enya being “placed” at the Messents’ home to begin with.’
‘Thanks to you tricking me, more like,’ Alice said. And tricking Katy Ellison.
‘Enya’s job was clear,’ Gerda continued, as though Alice being duped was by-the-by. ‘To find out whatever she could about the Rembrandt’s current whereabouts and when and where it was going to be sold.’
‘And that’s why you think Enya was up there in Alex Messent’s study?’ Alice deduced.
‘Quite possibly,’ Gerda said.
‘And working alone?’ Alice asked, thinking of the open window.
‘Yes.’
All of which rather shot down the theory that she’d disturbed some burglars. She’d been breaking and entering herself.
This might also explain why the painting had been askew – because she’d found the safe. But then what? Had she been able to break into it like Barney had? Had she taken something from it? Or had someone found her there and killed her before she could?
But who? Not Alex Messent. He’d still been downstairs with his wife. Thérèse, then? Yes, she’d had the opportunity. And, yes again, she seemed to be involved in some sort of skulduggery if that fake passport of hers was anything to go by. And, thrice yes, there’d been blood on her trousers.
But could Alice picture Thérèse doing it? Actually clubbing Enya to death with whatever weapon it was the police had failed to find? And what about motive? Unless she too was involved in this Rembrandt scam. Or had done it to protect her lover – if she was even seeing Alex Messent, for which Alice still had no hard proof … And what about the money on the floor and the open window? How did they fit into this?
‘What you told me about Enya fearing for her life? Was that even true?’
‘Call it an added incentive to get you to look as hard as you could.’
‘And her mother dying?’ Alice didn’t even wait for a reply. She could already read the answer on Gerda’s face. More twaddle. ‘So, who was she? Really?’ Alice asked, thinking of Enya’s family. Would Gerda have even told them she was dead? ‘Enya wasn’t her name, obviously?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’
‘You should at least tell the police.’ Alice couldn’t begin to imagine what Detective Rigby was going to make of this new development. But now it started to dawn on her … if Gerda was Interpol, then no wonder Detective Rigby had been pulled off the case. There were clearly higher powers at work.
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Gerda said.
‘But why?’
‘Because we have our own forces attached. If we send the English police bumbling in now, we’ll lose whatever slim hope we still have of recovering the Rembrandt. I don’t believe for a second that it’s being kept at Alex Messent’s house or his gallery. He must have it in a security deposit somewhere.’
She stared at Alice, who felt herself blushing. ‘I’m not sure what you think I can do to help you,’ she said. ‘I’ve done what I can.’
‘Seriously, Miss Beeton? I asked you clearly to talk to the other staff to find out what they might know, but you … you went one better, didn’t you? You decided to join the staff yourself …’
Alice felt an icicle drop into the pit of her stomach. She knew. Of course she knew. Gerda had probably been following her every move. Alice had felt that she was being watched and now she realised it was actually true.
‘I … I can explain,’ she said, although of course she couldn’t. She’d been such a fool, thinking she could solve Enya’s murder herself, but she’d had absolutely no idea of the gravity of the stakes involved and now her head was reeling.
‘You don’t have to. I’ve decided that it’s for the best having you at the Messents’.’
Gerda had decided. Alice suddenly felt as if she were on quicksand and all the control she’d had was just an illusion. She was in way over her head.
‘So this is what’s going to happen,’ Gerda said, her voice so steely that the force of her words seemed to pin Alice to her chair. ‘You’re going to keep digging. We already know from our own sources that the sale of the Rembrandt is imminent. I need you to work out where and when it will be.’ Gerda was staring at her, unblinking. ‘Because if you don’t … then Enya will have died for nothing, and the Rembrandt will be gone for good …’
‘But I can’t.’ Alice’s voice betrayed her panic. Because she couldn’t. Not now knowing that Alex Messent was a bona fide crook. Connected to God knows who. No, she needed to stop. To pull out. Now. This was all just too bloody real.
‘I’m afraid “can’t” isn’t an option,’ Gerda said.
Alice stood, red-faced. She just wanted this woman gone. God, she wished she’d never met her. She wished she’d—
‘I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,’ Gerda sighed. ‘But you do need to understand, Miss Beeton, that I can put in any number of anonymous calls … yes, to the police … but to your clients as well … to let them know what you’ve been up to … to make your business not a business worth having anymore …’
‘You wouldn’t …’ But already, Alice knew that she would.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gerda said, ‘but too much work … and yes, blood … has gone into this to fail now. So, you will do exactly as I say. Yes?’
Alice nodded and sat with a thud. Because — good grief — what other choice did she have?
‘Good. And you’ll be discreet and not let any of this slip? To anyone?’
‘I won’t.’
‘Including your staff and friends …’ Gerda glanced back towards Helly and Jinx.
‘I won’t,’ Alice repeated, even though she already knew that she would.
‘And the reason I know you won’t is because I’ll be keeping Agatha until you get me the information I want.’ She smiled back at Helly playing with the little dog.
A jolt of fear coursed through Alice. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your dog will be staying with me. Let’s just say … as insurance. To ensure your dedication. But don’t worry. I’m very fond of animals. In fact, at home I have two dogs of my own.’
She wouldn’t … couldn’t take Agatha? Could she? Yes. She could. This awful woman had her over a barrel.
‘And when you find out who killed Enya, you will get her back.’
Alice was speechless.
‘So, pay attention,’ Gerda said, with a cold smile. ‘You are going to stand up and shake my hand, as if we’ve had a satisfactory meeting.’ Gerda held out her hand and Alice shook it, limply. ‘Then out we’ll go.’
Alice walked out of the office, Gerda’s gaze like a gun on her back.
‘Alice?’ Jinx asked as Alice grimly walked straight past her to retrieve her uniform. She made wide frightened eyes at Jinx and shook her head to let her know she couldn’t talk.
She couldn’t even bear to look down at Agatha.
‘Alice?’ Jinx asked more urgently.
‘I’ll be going,’ she said, her voice breaking as tears blurred her eyes. ‘Gerda has agreed to look after Agatha.’
‘But we’ll keep her here,’ Jinx said, as if Alice were mad.
‘She’ll be perfectly safe with me,’ Gerda said, picking up the small dog. ‘For a while.’
Jinx and Helly gawped in horror as Alice and Gerda walked out.