Guns in the Gallery

‘Presumably you know,’ said Carole, ‘that the Whittakers are extremely wealthy?’

‘I had heard that. So what?’

‘Well, just that . . . if Giles is without a job . . . maybe part of Chervil’s appeal might lie in . . .?’

‘Oh, I see what you mean. Only after her money. In the same way that her sister accused Denzil of being. Hm . . . I don’t think Giles’s mind works like that, but I suppose it might be possible.’

‘Does Denzil have a private income?’

‘What on earth makes you think that?’

‘Well, he was at Lancing and—’

‘Carole, not everyone who goes to public school has a private income.’

‘No, but—’

‘As a matter of fact, Denzil Willoughby’s parents do have money. His father’s very well-heeled, but I think he may well have got bored with bankrolling his son.’

‘So Denzil Willoughby might well have been after Fennel Whittaker for her money?’

‘Possible. As I say, I haven’t really seen much of him since he was a schoolboy. He was a nice enough lad then . . . but people change.’

‘Where does he live? Where are his masterpieces being taken back to?’

‘He’s apparently got a large warehouse in Brixton which he uses as a studio, or “workshop”, I think he prefers to call it. I think Giles said he lives there too.’

‘And you don’t know any more about his relationship with Fennel Whittaker, do you, Bonita?’

‘I was unaware that he had a relationship with Fennel Whittaker. First thing I knew about it was when she suddenly lashed out at him on Friday.’ Carole felt again the shrewd beam of the brown eyes. ‘Why, do you know any more?’ A shake of the head from Carole. ‘Did you know what the girl was talking about when she spoke of “someone who causes the death of another person”?’

‘No idea. I assumed it had some private meaning for Denzil Willoughby. Reviving something they had argued about before maybe?’ What Carole didn’t say was that the words could, in retrospect, be understood as a suicide threat. Fennel could have been saying that her former lover would have been the cause of her killing herself. If indeed she had killed herself.

Bonita Green seemed somehow relieved by the answer. But there remained an anxiety about her. Maybe she was still feeling bad about the row with her son.

‘Do you know where Giles has gone?’ asked Carole, with uncharacteristic gentleness. ‘Back to London?’

‘No. I assume he’s shacked up with the girlfriend. She’s living with her parents at the moment, I gather. Somewhere near Chichester.’

‘Butterwyke House.’

‘Oh, do you know them?’

‘I’ve met them. Butterwyke House is an enormous pile. They’d certainly have room for Giles there.’

Bonita Green’s shrug demonstrated how little interest she had in the Whittakers.

‘Do you think,’ asked Carole, fishing tentatively, ‘that Friday’s events will really have done harm to the Cornelian Gallery?’

‘In the short term, yes. I know my business strategy there has not been very adventurous, but I have built up quite a loyal client base. A few of them might have been put off by the scene.’

‘I don’t think you need to worry about that. Although they may look embarrassed, people in Fethering love dramas like that. Gives them something to talk about for weeks. Then they’ll revisit the Cornelian Gallery as they would the scene of a fatal car crash.’

A tired grin crossed Bonita Green’s face. ‘You may be right. Actually, having had Denzil Willoughby’s works on display may have done more permanent damage than the row.’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that. The speed with which you’ve got rid of them will commend itself to your loyal customers.’

‘I hope so. It’s quite important, actually, because I’ve been thinking of selling up for some time.’

‘Selling up the Cornelian Gallery?’

‘Yes. I’m not getting any younger.’ Her words made Carole think for the first time how old Bonita Green must be. The dark hair and make-up was an efficient disguise, but the woman underneath it was probably nearer seventy than sixty. Quite a lot nearer seventy.

‘But obviously I want to sell the gallery as a going concern. Anyone interested is going to check out the turnover figures, so I don’t want any blips.’ She sighed. ‘I should never have listened to Giles. I knew from the start that putting on a Denzil Willoughby exhibition was a bad idea, but I let myself be persuaded. Mothers can be very blinkered when it comes to dealing with their sons.’

‘Yes,’ said Carole, wondering whether ‘blinkered’ had ever been the right word to describe her dealings with Stephen.

‘Still,’ Bonita Green went on, ‘I’m going to survive this setback. The Cornelian Gallery is my baby and when I come to sell it, I will ensure that all my hard work has been properly rewarded. And no one – family or not family – is going to prevent that from happening.’

Carole was surprised by the ferocious determination in Bonita Green’s tone. Beneath her faintly ridiculous dated appearance there was a core of steel.

FIFTEEN