Page 104 of Witness 8

I sat at another stool at the kitchen counter and watched Tomas and Clarence get to know one another. Tomas giggled as Clarence licked his face.

‘Thank you,’ said John. ‘I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh.’

We fell silent. Alison poured coffee for me and I sipped it, then put it down to let it cool and looked around the kitchen.

Like the living room, everything was nicely put together. Tasteful. Alison, I guessed. She had a great eye. It looked like a home you might see in a commercial, or a catalogue, but lived in. Not cold and clinical. There was a toy firetruck on the floor by the window; pencil markings on the door frame, which I guessed was John taking note of Tomas’s height as he grew; and the large refrigerator door was covered in souvenir magnets, which pinned up bills, letters, drawings, Tomas’s paintings and technical drawings of the hallway and living room – plans for renovation. Alison liked a project, I guessed.

Alison and John watched Tomas and Clarence play, and then I heard something.

It was faint at first, but grew louder.

A buzzing sound.

A bee, or a wasp?

Then I saw it. A big fat blowfly whizzed by. Clarence saw it too. He tracked its movements through the air.

The fly swooped through the kitchen, and Clarence was locked onto its flight path. He followed it into the hallway.

‘Clarence,’ I said, and went out after him.

In the hallway, Clarence stood very still, looking at something on the wall.

The fly, I presumed. He let out a low growl, and a whimper.

‘What is it, boy?’

As I got closer, the buzzing got louder. Clarence seemed to be staring at the painting on the wall. It was strange. At first, it seemed out of place with the rest of Alison’s decorative scheme. A gilded frame and, within, an old man in black and red robes, a crucifix in one hand, sat in a chair, staring out of the painting. It wasn’t like those pictures I saw as a kid, where the eyes of the people in the picture follow you around the room. But it was well done. And old. Very old.

The fly crawled over the small ridges of paint, buzzing around it.

Clarence barked.

‘Hey, it’s just a fly. Calm down, pal,’ I said.

The blowfly launched itself off the painting, and flew back into the kitchen. For a second, Clarence watched it go. But he didn’t follow. He was on all fours, staring at the dark, unnerving picture of the old man. He barked. He didn’t like it. I didn’t like it either.

‘It was my mother’s,’ said Alison, joining us in the hallway. ‘It was her mother’s before that, and she passed it on to me. Likemany things. Most of them I still have. Apart from my necklace. I would give this thing away in a heartbeat if I could have my necklace back.’

‘You caught Althea trying to steal a bracelet. The police never found the necklace?’ I asked.

She shook her head, then said, ‘My grandmother spent a fortune finding this picture after the war. It had been hidden in a basement in Warsaw, by a friend of hers. She had it shipped over here in the fifties. I never liked it as a child. It scared me. I sometimes thought the priest in the picture was looking at me. Silly. I had to put it up when my mother gave it to us as a wedding gift. No choice. I didn’t want to at first, but whenever she visited she would ask where I’d put the painting of the priest. She could be difficult. I miss that. Eventually, John hung it here to shut her up. Kinda out of the way. You see it every time you go up the stairs, but it’s hidden away enough that most people don’t have to look at it. I’ve been meaning to take it down since Mom . . . but I haven’t had the heart to. Not yet.’

She wiped away a tear, and John joined us in the hallway, put an arm around Alison’s shoulders and lightly kissed her hair. It was a gentle gesture, just a reminder that he was there for her in her grief.

‘Ruby is afraid of the red man too,’ said Tomas.

Their cleaner and nanny, Ruby. I hadn’t met her yet. But it was time to rectify that.

‘What’s that, sweetie?’ asked Alison.

‘Ruby’s scared of the man in the painting. I see her looking at him sometimes and she looks scared.’

A strange look came upon Alison’s face.

Now I really needed to meet Ruby.

‘Look, this wasn’t an entirely social visit,’ I said. ‘Court is in an hour or so. Alison, I know how much support you give to your husband. And we need you beside him, but could I ask you tocome to court later today? This morning, I need you to pack up whatever you need for a few days and check into a hotel. We are making the arrangements. This is for your safety, plus it frees up some more of my team. We’re going to need to move fast, because this case is going to move fast. Do you think you could do that for me?’