False Picture by Veronica Heley

off the walls.
    Mr Goldstone’s eyes practically disappeared behind tortoise-like lids. ‘You are telling me the picture was stolen?’
    â€˜Not at all,’ said Bea. ‘I’m laying another false trail.’
    Piers gave a short laugh and Mr Goldstone almost smiled. ‘I can see you’re no amateur at this game, Mrs Abbot. May I ask, what is your connection to the family who have … ah …
mislaid
a picture?’
    Would it be wrong to divulge some information? She searched Mr Goldstone’s deeply-seamed face and thought she could trust him, within carefully defined limits. Piers had brought her to see him, and Mr Goldstone certainly knew the art world in a way she could never do. ‘In confidence?’ she asked.
    Mr Goldstone inclined his head, his eyes very bright.
    â€˜Crispin?’ she said.
    Crispin shrugged. ‘Oh, very well. What a fuss about a fake.’
    Bea chose her words with care. ‘I have been asked to find Lady Farne’s godson by a very old friend. Her husband – the boy’s father – is seriously ill in hospital and asking for the lad, who appears to be in some financial difficulty. When last seen, he had in his possession a genuine Millais, a recent gift from his godmother, Lady Farne. Crispin has identified the lad who brought in the Millais from this photograph, and I confirm that this is a photograph of my friend’s stepson. His name is Philip Weston.’
    Crispin squawked, ‘It’s a genuine Millais?’
    â€˜Of course,’ muttered his father. ‘Crispin, I should turn you out to sweep the streets! To miss a Millais! My father would turn in his grave.’ His eyes sharpened again. ‘The provenance is secure? He has the right to sell?’
    Bea met that one head on. ‘We’re not sure.’
    â€˜You mentioned the police?’
    â€˜We would prefer at the moment not to involve the police.’
    â€˜But the boy’s gone missing?’
    Bea nodded. Missing! Another unpleasant thought hit the carpet and echoed around the room.
    â€˜Pshah!’ said the old man. He took hold of Crispin’s arm and raised him from his seat without apparent effort and took his place next to Bea. ‘A picture we could have sold, a man we should have detained. What other bad news do you have to give me?’
    â€˜He may or may not have been responsible for Lady Farne’s death,’ said Bea. ‘And he may or may not have legal title to the picture. He’s certainly lied about it. Also, he’s in debt.’
    â€˜Who would he take it to, I ask myself?’ said the old man, half closing his eyes. ‘I tried everyone I know around here … zilch.’
    â€˜Sotheby’s?’ Crispin offered. ‘Of course it would be some months before they could advertise and place it in the right sale.’
    â€˜Idiot boy! None of the big auction houses would take it without provenance and you say he hasn’t got any. They’d look it up in their catalogues as soon as they saw it, and discover who used to own it. They’d know that Lady Farne has recently died, add two and two, and ring the police.’ He stroked his chin. ‘There’s been no word from the police alerting us to look out for a stolen Millais, and if anyone’s been offered it, they’re keeping very quiet. I think we can assume that he didn’t take it to any of the big art salerooms. So where is he hiding and perhaps even more important, what is he going to do for money?’
    â€˜As Crispin suggested,’ said Piers, ‘he’ll sell the frame for whatever he can get.’
    â€˜Vandal!’ scowled Mr Goldstone. ‘To separate original frame from picture.’ He shot a glance of dislike at his son. ‘And this cretin here was responsible for putting that idea into his head!’
    Piers wondered, ‘Where would he take the frame? Portobello Road? No, he couldn’t