Page 26

The rain pelted down as Tash and I entered Barton’s at five the following morning.

Stealth was essential, as I needed to delve into the accounts without my uncle hovering.

Before I had the conversation with him, I needed the facts.

Whatever was going on, he’d make it mine or my father’s fault, and maybe it was. But I didn’t think so.

As I unlocked the building, familiar smells surrounded me and a wave of grief wrapped around me again. All the early mornings here with Dad, drinking sweet milky tea while I helped him sort through paintings before viewing days, came rushing back. Tash gave my hand a squeeze.

‘Point me in the right direction.’

I went into my uncle’s office and powered up his computer, then found the keys for his filing cabinet. Many years ago I had seen him write his passwords down in a small notebook that he kept in there. Sure enough, the book was there when I delved to the bottom of the top drawer.

‘OK, what’s his password?’

In the book I found the last one jotted down and read it to her, then I flicked through the other files. One was labelled Property , another Home , and so forth. He clearly kept his personal stuff here in the office.

‘Have you heard back from Rory Crown?’ Tash asked.

I drew a deep breath and opened my inbox.

There was an email from Rory that had arrived after I’d spoken to Paul, and there was a reply to it not written by me.

How could Paul have done it again after I’d told him not to?

Shit. I should have changed the passwords last night, but I’d been focusing on my mother.

Paul’s reply was simply weird. Thankfully Rory had included his number on his email, and I almost called but then remembered it was only 5.

15 a.m. I took a screenshot of his number, because I couldn’t be sure what Paul would do.

This behaviour was new. I needed to change my passwords now.

One by one I did them, including Instagram.

Paul hadn’t left that alone either. His posts were cringey and I deleted them all.

‘What are you doing?’ Tash asked.

Feeling guilty, I looked up. I could lie, but it wouldn’t help anything. ‘I’m changing all my passwords. Paul has been replying to my emails and posting on Insta for me.’

Her face froze. ‘That is wrong, so wrong I’m not sure I have the words for it.’

Not trusting the right reply to come out of my mouth, I nodded.

‘In other news, I’m in.’ She pointed at the screen. ‘Can you make me a coffee and let’s see what I can find.’

Leaving her to it, I went into the main office and boiled the kettle.

Marcia’s desk was cleared and ready for the day.

A large calendar on the wall listed preview days, sales and when my uncle or I were out of the office.

I could see where Marcia had erased my father’s name, and my heart stopped. He should be here, not me.

‘Bingo!’ Tash called.

‘Be there in a minute.’ I spooned instant coffee into the cups, added milk to mine then topped them both up with hot water.

‘Oh my.’ Tash pushed back from the desk. ‘There’s something very wrong here.’

Placing the mugs down, my hands shook. These were words I didn’t want to hear. What I needed to hear was that the accounts were fine and the business was sound.

‘What is it?’

‘That I can’t tell you yet, but I can see that things aren’t right. It will take me more time than we have right now to work through this.’

‘How much time?’ I asked.

‘I might need an all-nighter.’

‘Well, you have two hours to safely work before anyone will appear. I’ll go through things in Dad’s office.’

‘Your office, you mean.’

I made a face at her, then set an alarm on my phone. I didn’t need for Tash to be sitting at my uncle’s desk and have him stroll in.

Once the desktop in Dad’s office had powered up, I began going through his emails looking for clues to what the hell was going on. I sorted them by topic, and then by date. Nothing jumped out at me, nor did any name look unfamiliar or too repetitive.

How was I going to fix this? My mother was relying on me in more ways than one.

With all that needed to be done here at Barton’s, she would need help six if not seven days a week.

Today Meg was coming in. I’d borrowed the money from Tash to pay her until Mum could liquidate her Premium Bonds later today.

Last night I’d helped Mum set up a new account.

We didn’t need her to put that money into the joint account and see it disappear into the overdraft.

In what felt like no time my alarm went off. Tash and I put everything back just as it had been, including the password book after I’d photographed the pages. That made me feel like a thief, but needs must.

‘Hey, isn’t that your father’s writing?’ Tash dug some papers out of the bottom of the drawer.

A quick glance confirmed this.

‘Odd that these were sitting under the files.’

‘Very,’ I said, scanning the pages. ‘It’s his notes for Harbour House.’

‘Jackpot,’ Tash said, leading the way to Dad’s office, where she began printing off the inventory we had done thus far.

‘Someone’s keen.’ Marcia popped her head round the door.

‘Could say the same of you.’ I glanced at my watch.

‘Couldn’t sleep and there is always something to be sorted here.’ She yawned. ‘Shall I make a proper pot of coffee?’

‘That would be wonderful.’ Tash grinned. ‘This was nothing more than coloured water.’ She handed over her mug.

Once Marcia had gone, I rested my head on the desk.

‘What’s up?’ Tash asked.

‘I can’t do this.’ I sat up.

‘Can’t do what?’

I waved my hand around the room. ‘This, all of this, being secretive and, well, Mum and everything.’

‘Hold on. You’ve always done secretive.’ She placed her hands on her hips.

‘That was ages ago, when we were teens.’

‘Still counts, and shows you have the skills even if they are a bit rusty.’

‘Throwing my mother a surprise birthday party hardly counts.’ I smiled at the memory.

‘It does, because you have to be very devious to evade detection. Your mother did not want to celebrate her fortieth.’

‘True.’ It had been a great party.

‘See, you can do it.’

I accepted my defeat and a cup of coffee at the same time.

‘How’s Harbour House coming along? Any surprises?’ asked Marcia.

‘Plenty,’ said Tash, taking her coffee. ‘A couple of Chippendales for one, and the list goes on.’

‘Are you sure?’ Marcia asked.

‘Tash is right.’ I opened the photos on my phone. ‘Here, take a look.’

Marcia whistled.

‘I know.’ I took a sip of coffee and glanced down the corridor. ‘What was Stephen thinking when he said there was nothing worth over a hundred pounds?’

She frowned. ‘Maybe he’s testing you.’

‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

‘He shouldn’t be stooping to that level.’ Tash thumped her mug down. ‘Seriously, that is childish.’

Marcia shook her head. ‘You were right to be cautious.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled at her. ‘Your faith means a lot.’

‘Your father believed in you too, don’t forget that.’ She gave my arm a little squeeze and went to answer the phone.

‘Something smells decidedly off.’ Tash opened a filing cabinet. ‘I can’t put my finger on it, but trust me, I will figure this out.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘Best not to. Underestimate me at your peril.’ She smiled wickedly over her shoulder.

‘I’d never dare to, but it’s best to keep your estimations low for me.’

‘That is utter bollocks.’

I bit back a response.

‘Cat got your tongue?’

‘I’ve learned over the years that sometimes it’s best not to disagree with you.’

‘See, that proves you have sense.’ She turned, holding out a file. ‘Take a look at this.’

The file contained a breakdown of all the auctions for the last ten years, with the overall sales total, highest-value items sold and profit after expenses.

After just a quick glance, and with the exception of the sale of three Stanhope Forbes paintings, the highest-earning auctions were the furniture ones, and many had at least two pieces that had fetched remarkable sums. This totally contradicted the market for these years.

‘It’s not right, is it?’

‘It can’t be.’ There were a few sales with a pencil dot next to them. The marks looked fresh, like Dad had been working through this recently. I went back to his computer and scrolled through his most recent documents. Sure enough, he had updated this one ten days before he died.

‘What do you think is going on?’ Tash asked. ‘Is someone shill bidding? Is that the correct term?’

‘It is, but I’m not sure if that’s what we’re looking at here.

’ My heart sank. Shill bidding – falsely bidding to push up the price of an item – was not only reckless but illegal.

If someone was caught doing it, reputations could be lost, and if the auction house was found to be involved, it would mean an immediate closure and probable lawsuits.

‘I’m just going back to the sales that he’s marked in pencil to see if there’s anything that jumps out. ’

‘I’ll get more coffee.’

I grabbed a clean sheet of paper and tried to discover what my father had been looking for.

By the time I’d reached the tenth sale, it was apparent that certain pieces had blown through the estimates and sold for record-topping amounts.

However, there was no link between them that I could see.

One was a George III desk, another a set of Regency dining chairs, and another a four-poster bed.

‘Well?’ Tash put the mug in front of me.

‘Nothing immediately obvious, except that if you wanted to sell a piece of furniture and get top price for it, Barton’s was the place to do it.’ I pointed to the screen. ‘The estimate for this Welsh dresser was a thousand pounds. It went for six in the end.’

‘For a dresser? Had a celebrity owned it or something?’

‘It doesn’t say, but roughly every third furniture sale, something went way above the asking.’

‘How far above?’

‘Sometimes . . .’ I paused to look at the screen, ‘ten or twenty times.’

‘Bloody hell. The business accounts should be in golden shape then, but as we saw this morning, they aren’t, and nor is your father’s personal account.’

‘What’s happening here doesn’t just smell, it positively reeks.’

‘Here early, I see,’ my uncle said, popping his head into the office. I covered my father’s notes for Harbour House with the inventory. The last thing I wanted was for him to know we had been through his office.

He scowled when he caught sight of Tash. ‘What brings you here?’

‘Giving Ren a helping hand.’

‘Kerensa needs all the help she can get,’ he said as he walked off.

I rose from the chair and Tash pushed me back into it. If she hadn’t been here, I might have punched him. But why? He was absolutely right.