Free EG02 - The Lost Gardens by Anthony Eglin Page B

‘I’m here on behalf of a client of mine, a Monsieur Girard.’
    ‘Are you a lawyer?’
    He smiled and shook his head. ‘No—no, I’m not.’ Without further explanation as to the relationship with his client, he went on. ‘Through a mutual acquaintance we recently learned that Major Ryder had passed away. Soon after, we discovered that you had inherited his estate.’ He paused briefly, rubbing his hands together. ‘You see, many years back, Girard was in business with Major Ryder.’
    As he spoke, she was conscious of looking at his eyes more than one would in an ordinary conversation. They were unnaturally blue, with rather a disconcerting frankness to them.
    ‘They were partners in an art gallery,’ he said.
    ‘An art gallery?’
    ‘Yes, in Paris.’ He paused. ‘You were not aware, then?’
    ‘No, I wasn’t.’ She had to take her eyes off his for a moment. Picking up his card, she studied it as she spoke. ‘In fact, I know very little about Major Ryder. Tell me more.’
    The card was very plain. Just his name, a London address and phone number. No title or company name.
    Fox leaned back in the sofa and crossed his legs. ‘After World War II, Ryder and Girard went into business together. I’m sure you’re aware that Ryder was an army officer.’
    She nodded. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, Girard had a small gallery at the time and scratched out a living but couldn’t afford to buy paintings of any importance, nothing of quality. Then Ryder came on the scene. It was evident from the start that he knew a lot about art—he said he was a collector himself. Within a short time, Ryder invested a substantial amount of money in the business, allowing them to move to a larger and better location and start purchasing and selling paintings of much better provenance, higher value.’
    ‘That must have taken a large amount of money, surely?’
    ‘Yes and no. You have to realize that this was nearly sixty years ago and there were lots of paintings and other works of art coming back on the market after the German occupation. But, yes, you’re right. I understand that Ryder’s investment was sizeable. But then again, according to Girard, he always seemed to have money when it was needed.’
    Jamie was wondering what had happened to the coffee when Dot entered carrying a tray. Lowering it slowly to the coffee table, she was about to pour the coffee when Jamie told her not to worry, that she would take care of it. Dot left the room.
    Jamie filled the cups and waited while Fox stirred three teaspoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she asked.
    He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
    ‘There are three paintings that belong to Monsieur Girard that Major Ryder was storing for the gallery. According to Girard, they were being held here on the estate for safekeeping. Now, with Major Ryder’s passing, we would like to have those paintings returned.’
    ‘What kind of paintings are you talking about?’
    ‘They’re oil paintings and the artists are French.’
    ‘Are these old paintings you’re talking about? Like those up there?’ She pointed to the two eighteenth-century pictures on the facing wall.
    He turned to look at the paintings. ‘No, not as old as those.’
    ‘If this man has retained your services to locate his paintings, it suggests that they must be valuable. What are they worth?’
    ‘No specific price has been mentioned. But yes, in answer to your question, they are of considerable value.’
    ‘Well, I’m afraid you may have come on a wild goose chase. The only paintings here,’ she gestured with a hand, ‘are the ones that you’re looking at.’
    He smiled thinly. ‘I’m afraid they are not the paintings in question, Miss Gibson.’ He got up and walked over to examine one of the gilt-framed oil portraits.
    ‘Well, I don’t know what more to tell you,’ said Jamie, raising her voice slightly. ‘I can assure you that there are no other paintings in the