There had been a lot of coverage on Radio Sussex and in the Argus about a fire in a country house in which a major art collector had died, and a large number of immensely valuable works of art had been destroyed. But the robbery at their house, which had occupied a large amount of column inches a couple of days ago, had now dropped off the newspaper’s radar.

  Harry paid the entry fee, drove onto the concourse of Brighton Racecourse, followed the directions indicated by a young man in a yellow fluorescent tabard and parked the car. Then he and Freya climbed out into the misty damp morning air. He opened the boot, removed the painting, which they’d wrapped in clear polythene, and together they headed towards the stalls, looking for one that either specialized in paintings, or had some on display.

  After a couple of rows, they found a stall stacked with fairly uninspiring paintings – a couple of fox-hunting scenes, a few landscapes, a terrible portrait of a dog just recognizable as a Labrador. A bored-looking woman with a plump face, and a massive tangle of blonde hair beneath a headscarf, was seated behind the trestle table, sheltered partly by the tailgate of her Toyota off-roader right behind her and partly by a golfing umbrella. She was smoking a roll-up, with a steaming mug of tea beside her.

  Harry unwrapped the painting and held it up. ‘Might this be of any interest?’

  She peered at it. ‘Looks like one of those – what d’ya call ’em, French artist fête things – fête galante, that’s it – I did actually study art although you wouldn’t believe it with the crap I flog here.’ She took a swig of her drink then a drag of her cigarette and looked closer. ‘Too bad it’s not an original, eh? Be worth a few bob.’ She took another drag of her cigarette, then suddenly eyed Harry and Freya suspiciously. ‘Where did you get this from?’

  ‘It’s a Daniel Hegarty copy,’ Harry said. ‘He gave it to us – a gift – I did a little building work for him. But we don’t have anywhere for it to hang. Do you know him?’

  ‘I’ve had a few of his come through here over the years.’ She looked at the painting again, carefully, turned it over and studied the reverse. ‘That Hegarty, he always does a thorough job. Clever man he is, big talent. The problem is it’s not signed, so is pretty much worthless. If you had Hegarty’s signature on the back, it would be worth a few bob – people collect him, you know?’ She studied it some more. ‘I do quite like this, might keep it for myself, got a perfect place for it in my new home in France. I’ll give you a tenner for it.’

  Harry, ignoring the yes glance from Freya, said, ‘We’re looking for a bit more. Thirty?’

  She shook her head, took another drag of her cigarette and coughed. ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘Twenty-five,’ Harry said.

  ‘I’ll give you twenty, best offer, take it or leave it, love.’

  ‘We’ll take it,’ Freya butted in.

  The woman nodded and handed over a £20 note. ‘Yeah, I can see this in my lounge. Got just the place for it.’

  As Freya palmed the banknote, the woman took the painting and put it straight into the back of her vehicle.

  ‘Good riddance,’ Freya said quietly, as they walked away.

  ‘I guess at least we’re even,’ Harry replied. ‘I paid twenty for it and we’ve got twenty back.’

  Freya gave him a sideways smile. ‘Pretty much how you run your business. Maybe with a little coaching you’ll learn how to get a better return on your business.’

  Harry shrugged. ‘We do OK, don’t we?’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘We do OK.’

  100

  Saturday, 16 November

  ‘You know, it seems to me, darling,’ Cleo said, looking up from The Times Magazine, ‘that some criminals are born with a self-destruct gene.’

  Grace gave her a wry smile. ‘Yep, very fortunately for us.’

  ‘Like your Robert Kilgore. He might have got clean away if it hadn’t been for – what – his temper?’

  He leaned forward on the sofa and stroked Humphrey, who had snuggled up to his feet, still a bit damp from their long morning run over the fields. ‘Sometimes it’s almost as if they get to a point where they think they’re invincible, and then something happens and they lose the plot. If he hadn’t, he could well have got away. Fugitives can still disappear in South America – certainly if they have money, and it looks like he had plenty.’

  ‘What an idiot,’ she said.

  He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness as he stared at the mobile phone on the coffee table in front of him.

  Outside it was pelting with rain, but inside their cottage, with a fire roaring in the wood-burning stove, it was toasty warm. Noah was sitting on the floor, a fireguard and the closed doors of the stove keeping him safe, as he studiously put pieces of Playmobil together.

  Showered and changed after his run, Grace was feeling healthier. And the events of the past week had left him feeling much better, having produced a real result for his new ACC on their first case together.

  Stuart Piper’s burnt body was formally identified both by DNA and by his dental records. The Briggs twin brothers had been arrested in London and were now remanded in custody on a raft of charges including kidnap, aggravated burglary and, most seriously, which would ensure they would not be released on bail before their trial, the murder of Porteous. They had both rolled over during interview and gave their account that they were following orders given by Kilgore and Piper.

  Piper’s death might possibly have remained a classic locked-room mystery had it not been for Kilgore’s subsequent erratic behaviour – the self-destruct gene, as Cleo had said. The Fire Investigators had not been able to find the key to the steel door, though they had established the seat of the fire had been literally a seat – one of the sofas in the Hidden Salon, set alight by a candle. But the key to the door, probably brass, could not be found. Tony Kent’s Fire Investigation Team said that brass could melt in a fire but it did not look like the intensity of the heat in the room would have been sufficient.

  Then their attention had been brought to Robert Kilgore by the actions of an alert Border Force officer at the airport. A passenger on a flight bound for Buenos Aires had pinged the alarm going through Security. No big deal, that happened all the time. But this one, Donald Saville, had kicked off when asked to go through the X-ray machine, shouting that he was a decorated hero from Vietnam and it was shrapnel in his body from that war that had set the alarm off.

  Border Force officers had been summoned to handle the irate Donald Saville. An anomaly in his passport had been detected by one, and Saville was detained. It hadn’t taken long for his real identity, Robert Kilgore, to be established. Nor had it taken long for it to be ascertained that this man was wanted by Sussex Police.

  It wasn’t a big leap for Grace’s team from there. The index of a Tesla, registered in Robert Kilgore’s name, was fed into the ANPR and two hits came up for the night of Piper’s death. The first was travelling in the general direction of Bewlay Park at around 10 p.m. and the second was heading towards Brighton at around 11.30 p.m. the same night. Further checks put the Tesla, possibly, in the vicinity of the Kiplings’ home earlier that same evening.

  The car was seized and its electronic monitoring systems, as well as its satnav, analysed. It revealed the entire journey of the car that evening, from Kilgore’s apartment in Brighton, first to Bewlay Park, then to the Kiplings’ house, then back to Bewlay Park. From there it had headed back to Brighton, but two miles from Bewlay Park it had stopped for several minutes. The exact location where it had stopped was identified as a lay-by on the edge of a forest.

  Why, Grace had wondered, had Kilgore stopped there – and for several minutes? To have a pee? But surely he would have done that at Bewlay Park before driving off. Unless in a hurry, of course.

  Or unless he had another reason. Such as disposing of something? Such as a key?

  Unlike the battle for resources he would have faced with Cassian Pewe, Hannah Robinson sanctioned his request for a full search team in seconds.

  On the second day they’d found a large brass key, which fitted the lock to the Hidden Salon, in a waterlogged ditch. And despite its immersion in water, Robert Kilgore’s DNA was found on it. He was now on remand in custody, charged with all the same offences as the Briggs twins, with the additional charge of the murder of Stuart Piper.

  ‘Bump’s busy,’ Cleo said.

  Grace laid a hand on her belly and could feel the movement. He grinned. ‘Probably wants to get out and help Noah with his construction project!’

  ‘Yep, well, the sooner the better now.’ Then she focused back on the magazine.

  ‘What are you reading?’ he asked.

  ‘Trying to get ideas for your Christmas presents,’ she said, giving him a mischievous smile.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, this is really interesting: a large article on criminality in the dog breeding world – illegal puppy farming and puppy smuggling.’

  ‘It’s becoming big business,’ he said. ‘I was talking to some of the Rural Crime team – some gangs are making more money out of it than drugs.’ He hesitated. ‘Actually, in terms of Christmas presents, I did wonder about getting a companion for Humphrey.’

  She looked dubious. ‘Another dog? They’re not just for Christmas.’

  ‘I know, of course. I thought maybe a rescue one?’

  ‘You’re planning a busy Christmas – a new baby, both our families coming, and now a dog?’

  ‘Maybe we should wait?’

  ‘I think so. Plus, we still have our dear little Reggie here until there’s a decision about where he will go.’

  ‘OK, good point. Not while Reggie’s here. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  As she resumed reading, Grace leaned forward and picked up the iPhone from the table. It was Bruno’s phone, the one he had been looking at while crossing the road and fatally hit by a car. After the accident it had been seized by the Roads Policing Unit, and just returned to him yesterday via Aiden Gilbert. He’d spent much of last night looking through it, trying to understand what had so distracted his son that he’d walked out into the road in front of a car.

  It seemed, from what Gilbert had told him, that at the moment of the collision, Bruno had been looking at a genealogy site. What was that about?

  There was also a mystery text on the phone. It said:

  Good to talk. Speak again soon?

  It was from an unknown number. Probably nothing significant, he thought – hoped. Perhaps he should find out.

  Cleo closed the magazine and put it down on the table, alongside their copy of The Week. ‘Interesting piece,’ she said. ‘I just looked at the forecast for tomorrow – it’s looking lovely. Shall we do something? Have an outing? I don’t think I can walk too far, but would be good to have a break while I still can.’

  ‘Sure, what are you thinking?’

  ‘A pub lunch, perhaps? How about the Ram at Firle or Rose Cottage at Alciston?’

  ‘Either would be great. Maybe take in a car boot sale first? We’ve not been to one in ages – we might find a few Christmas presents and some decorations for the tree; and Humphrey’s destroyed all his toys – we might pick up a few new ones for him to rip to bits!’

  She beamed. ‘Sure, great idea. But let’s not buy a painting, eh?’

  GLOSSARY

  ANPR – Automatic Number Plate Recognition. Roadside or mobile cameras that automatically capture the registration number of all cars that pass. It can be used to historically track which cars went past a certain camera, and can also create a signal for cars which are stolen, have no insurance or have an alert attached to them.

  CID – Criminal Investigation Department. Usually refers to the divisional detectives rather than the specialist squads.

  CSI – Crime Scene Investigators. Formerly SOCO (Scenes of Crime Officers). They are the people who attend crime scenes to search for fingerprints, DNA samples etc.

  DIGITAL FORENSICS – The unit which examines and investigates computers and other digital devices.

  HOLMES – Home Office Large Major Enquiry System. The national computer database used on all murders. It provides a repository of all messages, actions, decisions and statements, allowing the analysis of intelligence and the tracking and auditing of the whole enquiry. Can enable enquiries to be linked across force areas where necessary.

  IOPC – Independent Office for Police Conduct.

  MO – Modus Operandi (method of operation). The manner by which the offender has committed the offence. Often this can reveal unique features which allow crimes to be linked or suspects to be identified.

  POLSA – Police Search Adviser.

  SIO – Senior Investigating Officer. Usually a Detective Chief Inspector who is in overall charge of the investigation of a major crime such as murder, kidnap or rape.

  CHART OF POLICE RANKS

  Police ranks are consistent across all disciplines and the addition of prefixes such as ‘detective’ (e.g. detective constable) does not affect seniority relative to others of the same rank (e.g. police constable).

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  With every new book I write, I so often end up, through a stroke of good fortune, meeting someone who helps with my research way beyond anything I could possibly have hoped for. Here that stroke was a brush stroke – a paintbrush wielded by Brighton-born and raised David Henty, proud bearer of the title of the World’s No. 1 Art Forger.

  David let me into his world, the secrets and the dark side and all, and I just do not think I could have written this story so authentically or colourfully had it not been for all David’s and his wife Natania’s kindness and enthusiasm.

  As always, too, Sussex Police have helped me so much. I’m immensely grateful to Police and Crime Commissioner Katy Bourne, OBE, to Chief Constable Jo Shiner, and to so many officers and support staff actively serving under them, as well as retirees, from Sussex and other forces. I’ve listed them in alphabetical order and beg forgiveness for any omissions.

  Retd Chief Superintendent Graham Bartlett; PC Jon Bennion-Jones; Inspector James Biggs; Chief Superintendent Justin Burtenshaw; Financial Investigator Emily Denyer; PC Phillip Edwards; Chief Inspector Mark Evans; CSI James Gartrell; CSI Chris Gee; Aiden Gilbert, Digital Forensics; DCI Rich Haycock; Inspector Dan Hiles; Chief Superintendent Nick May; Sergeant Russell Phillips; Chief Constable of Kent, Alan Pughsley QPM; Retd Detective Superintendent Nick Sloan; Chief of Police, States of Jersey, Robin Smith; James Stather, Forensic Services; Retd DC Pauline Sweeney; Detective Sergeant Mark Taylor; Retd Chief Superintendent Jason Tingley; PC Richard Trundle; and Beth Durham, Sue Heard, Jill Pedersen and Katie Perkin of Sussex Police Corporate Communications.

  A big thank you also to Theresa Adams, Julian Blazeby, Kate Blazeby, Alan Bowles, Andrew Brown, Marcus Budgen of Spinks, Matthew Collins, Dr Peter Dean, Hamish Dewar, Sean Didcott, Ross Duncton, Anthony Farnham, Dominic Fortnam, Dr Kathleen Ghillies, Anna-Lisa Hancock, Haydn Kelly, Rob Kempson, Andrew Lyons, Dr Francoise Lyons, Dr James Mair, David Mason OBE, James Mayor, Jan McCord, Tony McCord, Simon Muggleton, Producer of Antiques Roadshow Robert Murphy, Professor Nick Oliver, Julian Radcliffe of the Art Loss Register, Dr Graham Ramsden, Angela Rippon, Kit Robinson, Alan Setterington, Helen Shenston, Rev Ish Smale, Jonathan Santlofer, Andy Slark, Juliet Smith, Emily Stather, Hans Jurgen Stockerl, Phil Taylor of Gorringes, Neil Wakeling, Tim Wonnacott.

  A massive thank you as always to Wayne Brookes, my editor, and the team at Pan Macmillan – to name just a few: Jonathan Atkins, Kinza Azira, Lara Borlenghi, Emily Bromfield, Sian Chilvers, Tom Clancy, Alex Coward, Stuart Dwyer, Claire Evans, Samantha Fletcher, Anthony Forbes-Watson, Jamie Forrest, Elle Gibbons, Hollie Iglesias, Daniel Jenkins, Rebecca Kellaway, Neil Lang, Rebecca Lloyd, Sara Lloyd, James Long, Holly Martin, Rory O’Brien, Joanna Prior, Guy Raphael, Alex Saunders, Holly Sheldrake, Jade Tolley, Jeremy Trevathan, Charlotte Williams, Leanne Williams. And my brilliant structural editor, Susan Opie.

  A huge thank you to my amazing literary agent, Isobel Dixon, and to everyone at my UK literary agency, Blake Friedmann: Lizzy Attree, Sian Ellis-Martin, Julian Friedmann, Hana Murrell, James Pusey, Daisy Way, Conrad Williams. And a big shout-out to my fabulously gifted UK PR team at Riot Communications: Preena Gadher, Caitlin Allen, Emily Souders and Angel Pearce.

  Whilst writing is a lonely job, I have an amazing support team around me. I’m blessed with two incredibly talented and hardworking people, my wife Lara and former Detective Chief Superintendent David Gaylor, who head up Team James. David Gaylor contributes so much to every aspect of my novels, creatively, editorially and, very crucially, in terms of the authenticity of the police characters and scenes. He does the same with the stage plays and is now police adviser to the Grace TV series also.

  The other invaluable members of the team are Sue Ansell, Dani Brown, Erin Brown, Chris Diplock, Martin Diplock, Jane Diplock, Sarah Middle, Lyn Gaylor, Mark Tuckwell, Chris Webb and our fabulous new PA, Emma Gallichan.

  My most special thanks of all are reserved for my beloved wife. I’ve always believed that whilst novels are, above all, stories, they are also so much about how they make you feel. Lara is incredibly in tune with that, and gives me vital help with the emotions of my characters, as well as the storylines and with every aspect of our lives. She has also been of immense help with the stage plays and the television series.

  As ever another round of thanks is due to all our wonderful animals in our ever-growing menagerie: Spooky, our labradoodle, Wally, our goldendoodle, our two Burmese cats, our Indian Runner and crested ducks, our forty hens, rescue rabbits, quail, guinea fowl and our very naughty pygmy goats. You do so much to keep us grounded in reality and to put smiles on our faces.