A Trick of the Light by Ali Carter (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

blame. This case is going to take months if not years.’ A long breath came huffing down the line. ‘As the station is affuy quiet today why don’t you tell me a bit more about what you know? If you can aid our investigation, it’s a red-letter day for me. The family aren’t too happy.’

I’ve decided it would only complicate matters if I took Inspector Gordon through every step of my theory. I assume he’s further ahead than he’s let on. But I reached my conclusion behind the Muchtons’ back, and I don’t want to ruin my reputation, so I said, ‘Inspector, I’d really appreciate it if I could remain anonymous going forward.’

He put me in my place. ‘I’m not planning on mentioning your name to anyone. You tell me what you know, I’ll keep it in the back of my mind and if it helps it helps and if not, so be it. You won’t be getting a medal.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

‘Quick now, coffee time is approaching, give me what you’ve got.’

‘Lord Muchton has a twin brother.’

‘Aye, Ewen Hewson.’

‘Yes. Ewen’s an artist. He’s the one who’s been copying the paintings. I found his initials E H hidden in the pictures.’

‘Did you now.’

This man doesn’t believe me.

‘I can guide the expert to the very spot. Anyone could miss them. But in the meantime if you search Ewen’s house you’ll find a projector, an array of specific painting equipment as well as a history of photograph downloads on his computer.’ I’m putting myself on the line but, hey-ho, I have to nudge this man into action and to do so I must be bold. I wasn’t even going to mention Louis. If he’s involved, he’ll be found out in the end, and as for Zoe, she may never be caught. I doubt there’s enough evidence to prove her guilty. But a guilty conscience is hard to live with, her comeuppance will be served. So I said, ‘I think an original Landseer is on its way to Canada.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes. In a silver Ford Transit on its way to, if it hasn’t already arrived at, Portsmouth.’ This was a guess but I didn’t think Ewen would use his van, so it was all I had to go on. ‘It left Auchen Laggan Tosh on Wednesday night. Mike’s Motors, a local garage, will give you the registration.’ I didn’t mention the female driver. I hadn’t seen her so I couldn’t be sure.

‘Never mind that coffee.’ Inspector Gordon had clicked into action. ‘I’m going to hang up, Miss Mahl, and get on to this right away.’

‘One more thing, do you know about the email from Ethan and Chloe Hewson?’

‘Aye, aye, Lord Muchton’s told us everything. The email might be a hoax but it is, well, was, our main lead.’

Inspector Gordon ended the call.

Mum, as predicted, persuaded me to stay on a few days after Easter. It’s now Wednesday and I’ve only just left. Sam went down unsurprisingly well at lunch and thankfully forgave me for not calling him before. It wasn’t intentional, I’d selfishly completely forgotten. He is forgiving like that and I do feel lucky to have him as a friend. Louis Bouchon was a different matter. I had not forgotten to text him and, however tempting a night at the opera sounded, I wanted him to contact me first. Of course, there was the whole art fraud issue but until he’s locked up it wouldn’t have put me off. Needless to say, he didn’t get in touch. But guess who did…Yes. Toby. He called on Easter Monday morning and I was in such a good mood I answered before checking to see who it was. He’d been sweet. Refusing to hang up until we’d agreed on a date to meet. He wanted to see me in person, to talk things through. With a very full diary – the mortuary was busy – we settled on a place for lunch, halfway between us both.

That’s how I’ve ended up here, on a Wednesday morning at Basingstoke railway station. Not really halfway from Sussex but I’ve come from London so it seems fair.

I’m sitting on a low-level wall of the car park basking in the spring sunshine. Toby’s train has just pulled in and I must say I’m a little nervous.

There’s a 9–5 shop outside the station. Almost all the newspapers in the rack have a picture of Auchen Laggan Tosh plastered across the front page. The headline, Insincere Landseer Tears Twins Apart, is jumping out at me in bold.

‘Susie,’ Toby shouted as soon as he saw me. He looked thin and tired.

I got up and his arms enveloped me in a huge hug. His shoulder felt bony under my chin. I thought I might cry. I didn’t want to be here unless we have a future together and the thought there might not be made my bottom lip wobble.

‘Thanks for coming all this way,’ he said as he pulled himself upright and slung his satchel onto his back. ‘Are you okay?’

I realised I’d forgotten to speak. ‘Yes, yes,’ I said, trying hard to smile. ‘I’m so pleased we could make this work.’

‘Have you ever been to Basingstoke before?’

‘Nope.’ I clenched my fists and filled myself with strength to get through the next hour or so.

‘Neither have I but I’ve done a bit of Googling and there are plenty of green spaces.’ Toby tapped his bag.

‘You brought lunch?’

‘Of course. If I was forcing you all the way here, I had to make your journey worth it.’

I smiled and waited for him to speak. Surely he’d seen the papers this morning – he must have joined the dots about Auchen Laggan Tosh. But I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, just in case we never talked about anything else.

When he began, ‘I didn’t like how we left it in Scotland,’ I practically tripped up on my own two feet. It was so out of character for him to address the issue that I