02 - Flight of Fancy by Evelyn James Page A

pieces that had just been sold.
I’ve been keeping my eyes open for the canvases and I had a feeling I had seen
one in a little gallery near the promenade.”
    “Would someone be so careless
as to sell them like that?”
    “Oh you know how they think,
give it a few days and the police will give up and besides a policeman can’t
tell a Picasso from a Rembrandt. Though to be honest I struggle a little with
these paintings.”
    Clara glanced at the photo and
noted several canvases decorated with random blobs of colour, horizontal lines
and multi-coloured splatters.
    “This photo was taken for a
lifestyle magazine a few weeks ago. Owners think this spurred the robbery.”
    “And you think?”
    “That the owner is in debt and
can claim compensation for the lost paintings as well as selling them a second
time. I don’t think they were genuinely sold, you see.”
    “Well, Oliver, I didn’t have
you pegged as a detective.”
    “Didn’t you?” Oliver grinned, “Art
crime is a hobby, you would be surprised how much of it goes on.”
    “So, have you seen one of the
canvases?
    “Hard to tell, to be honest.”
Oliver shrugged, “Modern art and all that. So what are you up to?”
    “Exploring an ancient mystery,
well, sort of. Ever heard of the O’Harris disappearance?”
    Oliver paused and mulled over
the question.
    “Rings a bell, was it during
the war.”
    “No, long before. 1908.”
    “I would have been 13.” Oliver
shrugged, “Must have slipped me by.”
    “Well, you aren’t alone, it
slipped me by too.”
    “How old were you in 1908
Clara?” Oliver asked slyly.
    She glanced at him with a half-smile
then carried on, ignoring the question.
    “Goddard O’Harris dropped dead
in his garden and then his body simply vanished. So far I only have two
witnesses, three if you count the gardener who saw the body.”
    “I always count gardeners.”
Oliver interjected solemnly.
    “No clue to where the body
went, how Goddard died or even what the motive might have been. I have only one
suspect for moving the body, Mrs O’Harris.”
    “So where is the problem?”
    “Too many unanswered questions.
Why? How? Where? Captain O’Harris wants me to solve the mystery.”
    “Ah, Captain O’Harris.”
    Clara felt uncomfortable at the
words, she almost blushed.
    “He is quite the heartthrob
among the ladies of Brighton, no doubt many would be jealous of you consorting
with him.”
    Clara wasn’t sure if Oliver was
teasing her or probing for information.
    “He is a paying client just
like any other.” She said stoutly.
    “So you haven’t noticed he is
handsome and dashing?”
    “Have you?”
    They stared at each other in
uncomfortable silence, finally Oliver cleared his throat and put away his
photographs.
    “I best be on my way.” He put
the folder back on a shelf and started to walk to the door.
    “No, please don’t…” Clara bit
at her lip, “I was a touch rude.”
    “I was only teasing you.”
Oliver said petulantly, “You quite snapped.”
    “I am a little tired of late.”
Clara excused herself brusquely, “And… I don’t like my professionalism being
called into question. I’m not helping O’Harris just because he is dashing and
handsome.”
    “I know that.” Oliver’s grin
returned, “So you had noticed?”
    This time Clara did blush.
    “Oliver Bankes, sometimes you
drive me to distraction!” Clara tutted, “He thinks his aunt killed his uncle
and it is an awful thought to bear. He wants me to find out the truth, one way
or another.”
    “And how do you intend to do
that?” Oliver came back beside her.
    “Like any puzzle, I suppose I
shall just pick at it until I find a solution.” Clara indicated the folder
inspector Park-Coombs had handed her, “He said there is another file with the
O’Harris name on it, perhaps connected? This one looks rather flimsy.”
She opened the folder and glanced at the rather uninspiring two slips of paper.
One was a report from the duty sergeant about