Charlotte Wynthorpe and the Case of the Disappearing Diamonds

5. Revisiting the Scene of the Crime

"No, lunch isn't for a few hours yet. I've just dropped by to see how you were getting on with. . . ." she gestured towards the mess of paint and canvases, "your work."

Anne pointed accusingly at the canvas with the hand holding the glass and shouted, "That's how I'm getting on. Blank! A vast expanse of nothingness laughing at me, mocking me, teasing me! I haven't had a single creative idea since my diamonds were stolen. Not one! I swear, if this continues, I'll string myself up! I will! I can't live if I can't paint! I simply can't! And I didn't even like the hideous thing. Never wore it! And just look at what it's done!" 

Anne lifted the glass to her lips with one hand and clapped her forehead and with the other.

"There, there. I'm sure it's not forever. All artists suffer from creative blocks at some point, so I've heard, and they all pass and they go on to create masterpieces." Charlotte said, reassuringly. 

"Bollocks."

"Really not."

"Bollocks."

"Alright, bollocks. I have no idea what I'm saying."

Anne snorted and took another pull of her drink. 

"You didn't like your diamonds?"Charlotte asked nonchalantly, as if she were merely making conversation and didn't care terribly about the answer she received. 

"Oh, God no. They belonged to Rutland's widowed aunt, that old dragon. They were supposed to be buried with her -- that should tell you something right there  -- but good sense and greed prevailed among the Frampton-Sackings as it always does, landing the hideous thing in my wedding chest. Or rather, in Rutland's wedding chest since none of his sisters would have it." The laugh that bubbled up out of Anne's throat was laced with arsenic. "Too ugly. Designed by a talentless hack of a jeweller in the '60s. I should have had the stones busted out of it years ago and made into something more modern, but. . ." she shrugged. 

"It was an heirloom." Charlotte's mind began to buzz. Daft Penelope's earrings had been heirlooms as well. Was that a significant detail? 

"You could say that. Ten small stones and two large ones. Plenty for a few rather ritzy rings or a broach for my turban." Anne went to take another pull off her drink, only to realise she was empty. She drifted over to a makeshift drinks cart and poured herself another, not bothering to offer Charlotte any. Charlotte didn't expect her to. Only drunkards and artists were walloped so early in the day and an offer might have caused offence.  

"And none of the staff pocketed it?"Charlotte inquired. 

Anne barked a laugh. "Rutland tore the servants hall apart. Nothing. But then I didn't expect there to be."

"You didn't expect there to be?" 

"Of course not. Not after. . ."  Anne's voice trailed off and her mouth dropped open as she stared at Charlotte. Then she shook herself. 

"Oh, God, I've just realised! You've come to see about a painting, haven't you? And here I am carrying on like tinned misery. I'll get them out." Anna set her glass down and began to shift an unstable looking row of canvases propped up against a damaged cabinet. 

"Well, I . . ." Charlotte started, but then stopped. When had she indicated an interest in a painting? At the party? Hardly. Anne was a good acquaintance but Charlotte had already purchased her duty painting. It was hanging in one of the unused guest rooms on the second floor unseen by almost everyone. Not her taste at all, splotchy thing that it was. 

She'd encourage Anne to the ends of the Earth to do her art, but she wasn't about to start collecting her oeuvre. Really not. Anne had clearly got her confused with someone else. However, Charlotte considered, if she thought she had a buyer on the line, she might be willing to talk more about the robbery.