02 - Flight of Fancy by Evelyn James

looked up at the
older painter who had visibly relaxed since the inspector’s exit,
    “Are you talking about that
case where the old boy died and vanished from his own garden?”
    Clara smiled at him.
    “Yes I am.”
    “I’ve done some work at that
hall, including on that airplane hangar in the grounds.”
    “Yes?”
    “If he is still alive, and I
can’t say he is, but if he is, I should talk to the builder who hired us for
the job. I remember him making a remark about the foundations a couple of days
after the death.”
    “What sort of remarks?” Pressed
Clara.
    “Something about the concrete
being all messed up, as if someone had been fiddling with it when it was
drying, and one of the foundation trenches had been topped up with extra cement
and it didn’t match. We all wondered, you know.”
    The man finished abruptly and
picked up his paintbrush to continue working. Clara considered what he had
said, her thoughts had also gone to the barn when she first saw it. New
constructions could prove a convenient place to hide things. She would have to
find this builder.
    “What was his name? The
builder?”
    “Mr Owen Clarence.” Responded
the painter, “He used to live in Belgrave Street.”
    Clara nodded, taking a small
diary from her handbag and noting the name and address.
    “Thank you.”
    “Do you reckon he was murdered,
miss?” The painter had paused again.
    “I think if he was not, someone
went to a lot of trouble to hide an accident.”
    Inspector Park-Coombs appeared
in the doorway with a thin cardboard folder which he handed to Clara.
    “Peruse at your leisure.” He
said, “There is a friend of yours downstairs in the archives.”
    Clara looked up curiously.
    “Oliver Bankes.” The inspector
looked mischievous, “He might have a picture or two that could be useful.”
    Clara had not given a thought
to Oliver since she had last seen him on the pier fumbling with his camera and
moaning about high-speed photography.
    “You might like to take a look
at some of the other files down there too. I noticed one other with the
O’Harris name on it, but wasn’t sure it was related. You should take a look.”
    Clara knew when she was being
politely route-marched into a meeting with Oliver Bankes.
    “Thank you inspector.” She said
hopping from the desk, “I shall take a look.”
    “Do, and if you ever need to
delve into the archives feel free.” Park-Coombs had resumed his position in the
doorway facing the painters, “Were these two any trouble while I was gone?”
    “Quite the opposite.” Clara
smiled as she walked away and left the inspector to his supervising duties.
    At first Clara was not sure she
wanted to enter the archives and see Oliver. She was aware Mr Bankes was keen
on her company and tried to involve himself in her cases as much as possible,
but she wasn’t sure about her own feelings on the matter, and she was
uncomfortably aware of the time she had recently spent with Captain O’Harris.
Why did she feel so guilty about such an innocent acquaintance? She was working
for O’Harris, so naturally she would spend time with him, but she couldn’t help
a twinge of conscience as she toyed at the archives door before finally
plucking up the courage to enter.
    The archive was quite a small
room, lined and divided by stacks of bookcases containing file after file of
criminal activity. There was one window that had been blocked up and only
allowed light to slip in through its top portion, and a measly bare bulb lit
the remainder of the room. At the far side a desk was position as close to the
light sources as possible and stacked with forgotten folders and unfiled
material. It was about what Clara had expected.
    Bankes was at the desk going
through some photos. He glanced up as she entered.
    “Hello Clara.”
    “Hello Oliver, what are you
working on?”
    Oliver lifted up a photograph
of an artist’s studio.
    “There was break-in at this
place a few nights ago, stole some valuable