A Place of Safety by Natasha Cooper Page A

pushing back her streaky blonde hair, and gazing up at him, much as David had gazed at Caro. ‘There was another producer hanging around today with news of a new classic serial they’re about to cast. I couldn’t pass up such a good schmoozing opportunity.’
    Trish glanced back at Caro, to see her stolidly eating her way through the second plateful.
    ‘Caro, have you ever had anything to do with money-laundering?’ Trish said, mainly to draw her attention away from Jess’s antics. ‘Or the art market?’
    ‘No. They’re both far too specialized for me,’ she said, looking up in surprise. ‘Why?’
    ‘Oh, just some El Vino’s gossip I overheard. Someone was talking about the connections between the art world and organized crime. Money-laundering was the only one I could think of. I wondered if there were more.’
    ‘Definitely,’ Caro said, looking happier. ‘Artnapping’s the thing these days. Far more common, too.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Oh, you know, Trish; like kidnapping. They steal well-known paintings and offer them back to the owners or the insurance company for a ransom. It’s easy enough to do, and most insurers will pay up. There aren’t many experts who would happily see a Van Gogh destroyed just to save money. But we don’t usually have anything to do with it. You’re not allowed to pay ransoms in this country, even for pictures.’
    ‘No,’ George agreed, reaching for the bottle again. ‘Although it’s easy enough for private individuals to do offshore. David, you ought to be in bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.’
    David looked at his plate, then glanced sideways up at Trish, who nodded quickly and said she’d forgotten to watch the clock. His lower lip edged forward.
    ‘I’ll take you,’ Caro said brightly. ‘If you like.’
    He put his hand in hers and dragged her towards his room.
    ‘Why are you really interested in money-laundering?’ George asked when they’d gone. He refilled all the wine glasses.
    ‘There’s a case that’s come in to chambers,’ Trish said. ‘Even though it’s not mine, I was curious, but I don’t want to bore Jess.’
    ‘You couldn’t,’ she said with a blinding smile, before turning back to George. ‘Does it come your way much?’
    ‘I hope not,’ he said with a short, barking laugh. ‘It’s one of my many nightmares. In the old days, before all solicitors had compliance officers tracking every bit of money that comes in,
criminals would just send in a whacking great cheque, before phoning up a couple of weeks later to say that it had been mailed in error. The accounts department would go through their books, see that the individual concerned didn’t owe the firm any money, and write out a cheque of their own straightaway. Bingo! Clean money.’
    ‘How amazing!’ Jess said with all the fervour of a child watching a firework extravaganza. Trish thought of Caro’s careful avoidance of all exaggeration and unnecessary emotionalism and felt even sorrier for her.
    ‘It’s not so easy now.’ George smiled at Jess. ‘But, as Trish said, it’s a dull subject. How were the rehearsals today, Jess?’
    Trish hardly listened to the answer as she mentally drafted the questions she was planning to put to Henry Buxford.
     
    Caro and Jess got up to leave two hours later, and Trish escorted them to the door while George fetched their coats.
    ‘Thank you for sorting bedtime, Caro,’ Trish said while he was out of the way. ‘It could have been a sticky moment. Did David say anything more about the body?’
    ‘Not much. But I really don’t think you need worry. He’s a bright boy and he’ll be fine. He’ll forget it as soon as something else exciting happens at school.’
    Trish hugged her, then turned to say good night to Jess. She seemed to be treating George like a climbing frame as she reached up to kiss his cheek. He looked over her shiny blonde head at Trish and smiled with such a familiar look of mock terror in his eyes that she only