Guns in the Gallery

‘Yes, he’s loaded all right,’ Denzil admitted. ‘Just he doesn’t always feel like sharing his goodies with his son. He’s never forgiven me, you see, for becoming an artist. My Dad – the great Addison Willoughby – he did all his training at the Slade and everything, and then prostituted his talents for the rest of his life in an ad agency. How commercial can you get? He’s jealous as hell of what I’ve done, jealous of me not having made any compromises in my life, and that jealousy is quite frequently expressed in a tightening of the purse strings.’

Carole decided to set out on another tack. ‘Since you’ve cast us as the snoopers of Fethering, we’d be failing in our duty if we didn’t interrogate you about Fennel’s death.’

Denzil Willoughby shrugged. ‘You can interrogate away to your heart’s content. You’ll find I have nothing to tell you on the subject. I didn’t see Fennel after she stormed out of the Private View having given me that right royal bollocking.’

‘You didn’t see her again on the Friday night?’

‘Of course I bloody didn’t.’

‘So where were you? Did you stay in Bonita Green’s flat?’

‘No way. It’s tiny. Cramped enough with her and Giles there. Not that I wanted to stay there, anyway. Bonita’s not really my type of person.’

‘Oh?’

‘Another of those who’s frittered away her talents. She trained at the Slade, like my Dad, and like him, she never tried being a proper artist. Just set up that mimsy-pimsy gallery to sell Toulouse-Lautrec fridge magnets to people who wouldn’t recognize a work of art if it came up and bit them on the shin.’

‘She did have two small children to bring up on her own,’ Jude interceded on Bonita Green’s behalf.

‘So what? A true artist wouldn’t let considerations like that get in the way of their work.’

‘Right.’ Carole picked up her interrogation. ‘So where did you go after the Private View?’

‘Back to the hotel they’d booked me into. Place called the Dauncey. Fairly primitive, but probably as state of the art as hotels get in a backwater like Fethering.’ Carole curbed the instinct to defend her home village against the allegation. ‘I spent the whole night there.’

‘Do you have someone who can vouch for that?’ asked Carole.

He smiled at her infuriatingly. ‘My, oh my. You’ve completed the full Amateur Sleuths’ Correspondence Course and passed with distinction. Know all the questions about alibis, don’t you?’

‘I asked if anyone could vouch for the fact that you’d spent all of Friday night at the Dauncey Hotel,’ Carole continued implacably.

‘So you did. And the answer, I am glad to tell you, is yes.’

‘Was it someone you’d picked up at the Private View?’

He smiled lazily. ‘I’m glad my reputation as a babe magnet has spread as far as Fethering. But no, on this occasion I wasn’t working my magic for some fortunate and grateful woman. I was with someone of my own gender.’

‘Oh?’

The disapproval in Carole’s tone clearly communicated itself, because with another lazy smile, he said, ‘No, not that. I know you expect artists to be capable of any depravity, but to my chagrin I’ve never fancied boys. Sure I’m missing a lot, but there you go . . . No, I actually spent the night drinking with my old mucker Giles.’

‘Giles Green?’

‘I didn’t notice any other Gileses around at the Private View.’

‘So the two of you were drinking all night in the bar of the Dauncey Hotel?’

‘Not the bar, no. The hotel manager had rather old-fashioned ideas about licensing hours; he seemed to believe that no one in Fethering ever wanted a drink after nine in the evening. So Giles and I bought a couple of bottles of Scotch and retired with them to my room to drink the night away.’

‘And in the course of that night,’ asked Jude, ‘did you talk about Fennel Whittaker?’

‘We may have done. My recollections of the occasion are necessarily somewhat hazy.’

‘But you probably did?’

‘Probably. Giles and I have always tended to talk about women. We’ve known each other for a long time.’

‘From your time at Lancing,’ said Carole.

‘Ooh, you have been doing your research.’

‘And has there been rivalry between you when it comes to women?’

‘A bit. Benign rivalry, I’d say.’

‘Never come to conflict?’

‘Good God, no. The woman hasn’t been born who’s worth spoiling a male friendship for.’ This was said with a challenging smile. Denzil Willoughby was fully aware of the effect his words were having. It was almost as if he were trying to goad his two visitors into some reaction, but they were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

‘So that night after the Private View,’ asked Carole, ‘did you talk about Giles’s relationship with Chervil Whittaker?’

‘It probably came up.’ He grinned complacently. ‘Though there wasn’t really much he could tell me there.’

Jude was quicker to pick up the implication than Carole. ‘You mean you’d already had a relationship with Chervil yourself?’

‘Spot on.’

‘Recently?’

‘Fairly. It was when I got bored with the younger sister that I moved on to the older one.’

‘And Giles picked up with Chervil?’

‘Exactly. We’ve always kind of shared girlfriends.’

‘At the same time?’