Giotto's Hand

Her opening remarks, along the lines of offering condolences on her husband’s death, did not make much of an impact. “It was a shock,” she said. “I still can’t believe it has happened.”

“I was wondering whether I could ask you…”

“You want to interview me as well? I’ve already told the police everything I know.”

Flavia hastened to reassure her and explained that she, was interested in different things.

“So who are you then?”

She explained that as well, after a fashion. “How much have the police told you?”

She shook her head. “They haven’t told me anything. Just asked me. It’s been horrible. Almost as though it was none of my business.”

With some misgiving, Flavia told her what she knew, ending up with her quest for the Pollaiuolo. As long as she wasn’t dissimulating, then she hadn’t been told much. She appeared insignificant, so she was treated like that. It was hard to take her into consideration, but that was no reason for ignoring her. She seemed almost pathetically grateful for Flavia’s efforts, and the Italian felt herself becoming more sympathetic.

When the explanation was finished, Mrs. Forster shook her head. “I didn’t know anything about this at all,” she said.

“Would you expect to?”

“Maybe not. Of course, I didn’t know anything about his business. Except that it hasn’t been so easy recently. Because of Mrs. Verney.”

With a bit of fire in her for the first time, Jessica Forster indicated that Mrs. Verney and her husband had not got on at all well. “I can’t say who was at fault. She said she couldn’t afford him any more. But Geoffrey was furious with her, far more so than I would have imagined. I’m afraid they just disliked each other. But I must say she has always been nice to me. She even offered to let me stay in Weller House if I couldn’t face being here. That was kind, don’t you think? You often find out the best of people in times of trouble.”

Flavia agreed it was frequently the case.

“I understood his reaction, of course,” she went on. “Geoffrey had put in so much work for Miss Beaumont, and gave up his business in London to come here and work for her. Then Mrs. Verney just ended it. He was deeply hurt. And I don’t mind telling you, it hurt us financially as well.”

“And it was just because Mrs. Verney couldn’t afford it?”

Jessica Forster frowned. Flavia decided she was either very stupid or very simple. Or perhaps neither. “What other reason could there be?”

“And you’ve been having a hard time? Financially, I mean?”

She nodded. “But it was getting very much better. Geoffrey was re-establishing his business, and told me he expected to pull off a big deal very soon.”

“And what was that?”

“I’ve no idea. He never used to bother me with the details. I earn it, you spend it. That’s what he used to say. He was a good man. I know what you’ve been told about him. But there was more to him than that. Much more.”

Flavia was left to guess what more she might have meant, and decided it was too complicated to pursue at the moment. “This deal,” she said. “What was it? A painting?”

“I suppose so. Unless he meant selling off the cottages. But I don’t think it was that.”

“If he had valuable paintings, would he normally keep them here?”

“I’ve no idea. Maybe not. If they were really valuable. This isn’t the most secure place, and so many people have keys, what with the cleaning ladies and such. And you do hear tales about burglars.”

“So if your husband wished to show a painting to a client, for example, it’s possible that he would only bring it here at the last moment?”

She nodded. “It’s possible. He did have a safe deposit box at a bank in Norwich. I told all this to the police, you know.”

“He didn’t mention the names of any clients?”

She shook her head.

“Did he have any contacts in Italy?”

Another shake.

“I see. Did your husband travel a great deal?”

“Of course. He was an art dealer. He was constantly on the move, seeing pictures and clients. Not that he enjoyed it much. He preferred to stay at home.”

“Did he go abroad?”

“Yes, sometimes. Not often, though. Why do you ask?”

“Just interest,” she said vaguely. “Do you happen to know if he was in Scotland in July 1976?”

Another shake. “I don’t know.”

“In Padua in May 1991?”

Another.

“Milan in February 1992?”

“I don’t think so. He went away often, but not for long and I wasn’t always sure where he was.”

“Would anybody know?”

“Probably not. Geoffrey worked alone. You might ask that man Winterton. He might know something.”

“I see. Thank you. Can you tell me, how did he come to work for Veronica Beaumont?”

“She asked him, I think. Several years back, I believe they’d known each other. Socially. Geoffrey made a point of cultivating such people. Can’t say I would have given most of them the time of day, myself. He said he’d given her informal advice for some time. But he really started working here properly about three years ago. That was when we took the decision to move here.”

“They’d known each other for years, I understand. Since their twenties.”