The Devil's Moon by Peter Guttridge

said next.
    â€˜Get your coat, ex-Chief Constable. You’ve pulled.’

TEN
    S arah Gilchrist was thinking about sending everyone home for what remained of the day when Bellamy Heap came over.
    â€˜Ma’am, the case I was on when you brought me into this investigation . . .’
    â€˜Somebody stole a painting from the Brighton Museum and Art Gallery, didn’t they?’ she said. ‘What about it?’
    â€˜I wonder if it might somehow be linked.’
    â€˜Because?’
    Donaldson was listening in from the next desk. He leaned forward, his meaty shoulders bulging against his tight shirt. Gilchrist thought a big breath from Donaldson would blow Heap over.
    â€˜I’ve always thought security was a bit loose there,’ Donaldson said. ‘There’s a lot of silver in those cabinets. Did they not get the person?’
    Heap looked down at him. ‘No, sir.’
    â€˜But what’s it got to do with our case?’ Donaldson said.
    â€˜Sorry, sir. It’s the name of the painting.’
    â€˜Which is?’ Gilchrist said.
    â€˜
The Devil’s Altar
. By an artist called Gluck.’
    â€˜Gluck?’ Donaldson barked a laugh and Gilchrist thought the buttons of his shirt might pop. ‘Sounds like someone with catarrh.’
    Gilchrist looked around the room. ‘
The Devil’s Altar
. Is it just me or is something spooky going on in Brighton?’
    There was a ripple of laughter from the others.
    â€˜So what happened?’ she said to Heap.
    Heap filled her in.
    â€˜What?’ she said. ‘The security man didn’t notice the picture had been stolen?’
    â€˜Not until I pointed it out to him and Mr Rafferty, the museum director.’
    â€˜That weirdo,’ Donaldson muttered.
    Gilchrist ignored him. ‘Go on, Bellamy.’
    â€˜The glass was possibly broken to get at the silver but more likely as a diversion – a diversion that worked. Anyway, we interviewed some people who were there but others had gone by the time we arrived. The security guard has no powers to detain people
en masse
and, in any case, assumed the people had gone out of an emergency exit.’
    â€˜People?’
    â€˜I think there were two, ma’am. The picture is pretty big and I see one person throwing the brick into the glass case whilst the other takes the picture off the wall.’
    â€˜CCTV?’
    â€˜I’d started on it but I handed it over to someone else to analyse when I was transferred here.’
    â€˜The Devil’s Altar
title fits with the desecration in the church,’ Gilchrist mused. ‘What does the painting look like?’
    Heap frowned. ‘That’s the odd thing. It’s two flowers in a vase.’
    â€˜Called
The Devil’s Altar
? Are they some horribly poisonous flower?’
    Sylvia Wade had been tapping at her keyboard. She peered at her computer screen and called out. ‘Look like lilies.’ She angled her screen to the eager young constable next to her. He nodded.
    â€˜So why the title?’ Gilchrist looked around the room. ‘Anyone know what lilies represent in the occult?’
    Blank faces. Sylvia was tapping away again but frowning.
    â€˜OK. Somebody figure out why the artist, whoever this Gluck is, called a bunch of flowers something spooky and what wider significance that might have for the loopy occult brigade.’
    Donaldson leaned forward, muscles bunched. ‘Know the artist, know the painting,’ he said, all but cracking his knuckles. ‘Let’s find out about her.’
    Gilchrist gave him a sideward glance. ‘Thanks, Detective Sergeant.’
    â€˜I’ll do it, ma’am,’ Sylvia Ward said.
    Gilchrist nodded.
    â€˜If I may suggest, ma’am . . .’ Heap said.
    â€˜Suggest away, Heap.’
    â€˜We must keep clear in our minds that the paganism the Wicker Man represents and the occult are miles apart.’
    â€˜Thanks for the