Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles 4) - Page 88
The older of the two strangers took a pace forward. “My name is Detective Inspector Rossindale. I’m stationed at Savile Row police station, and I have a few questions to ask you, Mr. Clifton.”
Sebastian knew from his father’s novels that detective inspectors didn’t get involved in minor crimes. He nodded, but followed Arnold’s instructions and didn’t say anything.
“Did you visit Agnew’s Fine Art Dealers in Bond Street earlier today?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what was the purpose of that visit?”
“To pick up some pictures I bought last week.”
“And were you assisted by a Miss Sullivan?”
“Yes.”
“And where are those pictures now?”
“They’re in the boot of Mr. Hardcastle’s car. I was intending to take them back to my flat later this evening.”
“Were you? And where is that car now?”
“Parked outside the front of the bank.”
The detective inspector turned his attention to Cedric Hardcastle. “May I borrow your car keys, sir?”
Cedric glanced at Arnold, who nodded. Cedric said, “My chauffeur has them. He’ll be downstairs waiting to take me home.”
“With your permission, sir, I’ll go and check if the paintings are where Mr. Clifton cla
ims they are.”
“We have no objection to that,” said Arnold.
“Sergeant Webber, you will remain here,” said Rossindale, “and make sure Mr. Clifton does not leave this room.” The young officer nodded.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Sebastian after the detective inspector had left the room.
“You’re doing just fine,” said Arnold. “But I think it might be wise, given the circumstances, if you don’t say anything more,” he added looking directly at the young policeman.
“However,” said Cedric, standing between the policeman and Sebastian, “I’d like to ask the master criminal to confirm that only two people boarded the train.”
“Yes, Don Pedro and Luis. There was no sign of Diego.”
“They’re playing right into our hands,” said Cedric as DI Rossindale reappeared holding three packages. He was followed a moment later by a sergeant and a constable who were carrying the other six between them. They propped them all against the wall.
“Are these the nine packages you took from the gallery with the assistance of Miss Sullivan?” asked the detective inspector.
“Yes,” said Sebastian without hesitation.
“Do I have your permission to unwrap them?”
“Yes, of course.”
The three policemen set about removing the brown paper that covered the pictures. Suddenly Sebastian gasped, and pointing at one of the paintings said, “My sister didn’t paint that.”
“It’s quite magnificent,” said Arnold.
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir,” said Rossindale, “but I can confirm,” he added, looking at the label on the back, “that it wasn’t painted by Jessica Clifton, but by someone called Raphael, and is, according to Mr. Agnew, worth at least one hundred thousand pounds.” Sebastian looked confused, but didn’t say anything. “And we have reason to believe,” Rossindale continued, looking directly at Sebastian, “that you, in collaboration with Miss Sullivan, used the pretext of collecting your sister’s paintings to steal this valuable work of art.”
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