Giotto's Hand

“Besides, initially no one thought it would become a habit. And then it was too late: by the time Veronica had hung half a dozen little acquisitions on the wall and Winterton had got rid of them, they’d compromised themselves rather badly. Manufacturing fake provenances? Handling stolen goods? Benefiting from the sales? How could they explain that away? The only problem was Forster, but Winterton did a fine job of persuading him that he was just as guilty and more likely to go to jail if anyone said anything. Fine for as long as Forster thought it was an isolated incident.

“As I say, Winterton built a lucrative clandestine career on it, and recycled the money into legitimate picture dealing. Did very nicely too, once he’d worked out who were the richest clients with the smallest scruples. He’s a prig and a snob, but he’s no fool either.

“Unlike Forster who, once he’d started, didn’t know when to stop. He pushed too far, asking for this house and everything. He knew she was ill, and he had a vision of himself as Lord of Weller or something. Always a climber. Now, Veronica was crazy, but not that mad: and he attacked her in the one area where she would fight back—her family pride. She was determined to preserve Weller in the Beaumont family, even if that was me.

“So she dug in her heels, and told him to do his worst. Forster says he will do just that. Veronica realizes he means it and she reaches for the pills as the only way of stopping him. That’s one interpretation.”

“What’s another?”

“That Veronica decides to give herself up, confess all and denounce Forster as a blackmailer. And that Forster murders her.”

“Is that likely?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s all a bit too much like a Victorian melodrama, really.”

“Why, then, did you revive it all? I assume it was you who prompted Fancelli to call in the Italian police?”

“Absolutely not. That wasn’t the idea at all.”

“So what did happen?”

She sighed wearily, then nodded sadly. “I was always on the outside of the family; I knew Veronica was a bit loopy, but never exactly how much. She died, I inherited this place, and realized the finances were catastrophic. So I decided to cut back, and the biggest—and pleasantest—saving was to get rid of Geoffrey Forster. And I got a little visit. It was the first I’d heard of any of it. At first I just laughed and said I didn’t believe him. He suggested I go and ask Winterton. I did, and Winterton told me the whole story.

“It was a bit of a shock, as you can imagine. I inherit a stately home, and find that what I’ve really inherited is a rundown money sink kept afloat by thieving lunatics, up to its eyes in debt, pursued by the taxman and being blackmailed into the ground as well. I mean, Jesus. What a bloody mess.

“The trouble was knowing whether Forster really had enough proof. Winterton figured out who might have known something which would back him up, and the riskiest two characters—apart from himself—were Fancelli and Sandano. It wasn’t certain if they knew anything, but it was important to find out. So, he visited them and made sure that, if asked, they would deny anything about Veronica and say that they thought Forster was the thief; and I went through all the papers here and destroyed any embarrassing ones. And there were quite a lot, believe me.”

“But Forster still had the vital evidence in the safe deposit box,” Flavia said, fascinated by the story now.

“Yes. And we still didn’t know what it was. Which was why Winterton also got statements signed by Fancelli and Sandano saying more or less what they told you—that they knew Forster was a thief and had stolen these two pictures.

“He had statements indicating Veronica was a thief; we had statements saying he was. So I offered Forster a draw: his documents for my documents and a lump sum to show there were no hard feelings.”

“This was the deal he told his wife about?”

“I assume so. I’d scraped away and raised the money and got the documents ready and was just waiting for a final few thousand to be credited to my account. All we were waiting for was Forster’s agreement.”

“So what happened?”

“Then all hell broke loose, because of that stupid woman Fancelli. She was rather taken with the idea of saying Forster had stolen the Uccello, you see, once the subject was raised. And after thirty years, she saw a means of getting her revenge.”

“Hold it. Forster was the father of her child?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. That was all true. And behaved abominably, I gather. His child takes after him, as well.”

“He wasn’t paying for the nursing home?”

She shook her head. “I am. Or rather Winterton is. A fair exchange for her statement. Where was I?”

“Fancelli’s revenge.”

“Oh, yes. Anyway, the trouble was that she wanted to do it before she died—Winterton said she was in a bad way, and I imagine that is what triggered it. So she gave the police a prod to start things off, and in due course Jonathan telephones Forster.