Jamie was wondering what had happened to the coffee when Dot entered carrying a tray. Lowering it slowly to the coffee table, she was about to pour the coffee when Jamie told her not to worry, that she would take care of it. Dot left the room.
Jamie filled the cups and waited while Fox stirred three teaspoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she asked.
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
‘There are three paintings that belong to Monsieur Girard that Major Ryder was storing for the gallery. According to Girard, they were being held here on the estate for safekeeping. Now, with Major Ryder’s passing, we would like to have those paintings returned.’
‘What kind of paintings are you talking about?’
‘They’re oil paintings and the artists are French.’
‘Are these old paintings you’re talking about? Like those up there?’ She pointed to the two eighteenth-century pictures on the facing wall.
He turned to look at the paintings. ‘No, not as old as those.’
‘If this man has retained your services to locate his paintings, it suggests that they must be valuable. What are they worth?’
‘No specific price has been mentioned. But yes, in answer to your question, they are of considerable value.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you may have come on a wild goose chase. The only paintings here,’ she gestured with a hand, ‘are the ones that you’re looking at.’
He smiled thinly. ‘I’m afraid they are not the paintings in question, Miss Gibson.’ He got up and walked over to examine one of the gilt-framed oil portraits.
‘Well, I don’t know what more to tell you,’ said Jamie, raising her voice slightly. ‘I can assure you that there are no other paintings in the house. Everything was carefully inventoried after Ryder’s death and I would certainly have been made aware of any paintings like those you’ve described. I can’t believe for one moment that anyone, least of all the lawyers, would have made a mistake or concealed the fact.’
He returned and stood by the edge of the sofa. By his expression, she could tell that he was not at all satisfied with her answer. He said nothing, just stood staring at her with those confounded eyes.
Jamie was standing now. As far as she was concerned, the interview was over, coffee finished or not. She took two steps towards the door. ‘Anyway, Mr Fox, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’ She paused for moment. ‘I only wish they were here.’
Jamie was fully expecting the man to thank her and politely leave but he didn’t. For an awkward moment they faced each other across the room.
Then he spoke. ‘Look, Miss Gibson,’ he said, ‘I should have told you this earlier. Monsieur Girard does not have much longer to live, a few months at the most. He is a sick old man and I have promised him that I will do everything I can to find the paintings. They mean a lot to him and he wants to pass them on to his son. He told me he was a fool for not having settled the matter with Ryder long ago but, for whatever reason, he didn’t. Now he simply wants what is rightfully his.You must agree that is not too much to ask.’
Jamie shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘Much as I want to believe you, we know the paintings are here and not anywhere else. If you have any knowledge of them, please tell me now, it’ll save a lot of trouble for both of us.’
Jamie pursed her lips. How many times did she have to tell him? ‘Look, I don’t know what more I can say. I’ve told you they’re not here. In any case, had it occurred to you that Ryder might have sold the paintings without Girard’s knowledge?’
He smiled and shook his head. ‘There were safeguards against that ever happening.’
‘Like what?’
‘Never mind, it’s not relevant. But take my word for it, Ryder could not sell the paintings without our knowing.’
‘Well, what more can I say, Mr Fox? If you’d like to talk to my lawyer, I’d be happy to give you his number.’
He shook his head. ‘That won’t be necessary,’he said, offering his hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’
‘If they do turn up, naturally I’ll call you right away,’ she replied, shaking his hand. Together they walked to the front door where she watched him get into his car. With a quick wave of the hand from the open window, he drove off.
Chapter Seven
Driving back to Wickersham, Kingston was mulling over his visit to the Somerset Light Infantry Office. Jarvis had suggested that Kingston contact the Historical Disclosures Section of the Army Personnel Centre in Scotland, who, he said, might be able to give a more detailed account of Ryder’s military career.