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CHAPTER FIVE

In the cold light of day, the story idea still seemed to have potential, but Angus knew he would need to do some research before he could start building on it.

He jotted down a few notes but quickly turned his attention to Google and Wikipedia, surfing for anything he could find on gallery owners, contemporary painting and the Edinburgh art scene.

As a child he’d loved reading, losing himself in new worlds which couldn’t have been more different from the reality of his island life.

He’d also written short stories and poems, but it was only when he started writing his first novel that he felt he’d finally found something he was good at.

Nevertheless, the amount of research involved had surprised him but had also thankfully turned out to be a pleasant, if sometimes frustrating, task.

At the moment, though, he could relax and enjoy it.

After hour or two’s work, while taking a break from the computer, Angus remembered a university friend, who conveniently worked in a local gallery run by a Kathleen Reid.

She could perhaps help with some general information about what was involved in running a gallery, and also might have some gossip about Geoffrey Brodie, who Angus still couldn’t get out of his mind.

He sent her a message on Facebook to ask if they could meet.

She clearly had time to kill, as an answer arrived only half an hour later.

By 12/30 Angus and Amy were sitting on a bench with take-away rolls from the deli, a few tulips swaying in the breeze beside them.

“So, what is it you’d like to know” Amy asked as she tucked into her panini.

“I’ve got an idea for a story and it’s revolves around a gallery owner from Edinburgh.”

“Is this to do with Brodie?”

“Um, yes, in a way.

He’s the spark for the whole thing.

Why, did you know him?”

“Only by reputation: Kathleen knows - knew - him and I’ve often heard her talk about him.

From what I can gather, he was a terrible flirt with a penchant for young female artists.

He’d offer them his support and, as his gallery was successful, it was good to have him on your side.

In return, well, who knows what he expected in return, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be in his debt.”

“But his wife. Did she know?”

“Must have done.

But she had a good life with him, could swan about the city and jet off to Paris for the weekend, so why would she rock the boat?”

They were quiet for a moment, eating their lunch; Angus turned over this new information.

He wondered if this was common knowledge, maybe he should give Ross a call and tell him, though he probably knew about it already.

“Was there anyone in particular he was meant to be involved with?”

“I don’t know.

There seem to have been several over the years.

Can you use that for your story?”

Amy looked at him hopefully.

“Ah, yes, possibly.

It’s still in the very early stages, and I’m not sure what direction it might take, so everything could be useful. Thanks.”

“Not at all,” she replied, satisfied, “Glad I could help.

But I’ve got to be getting back.

Catch up again soon?”

Angus nodded and watched Amy as she walked back towards her work.

He found his phone and called Ross.

He repeated the gossip Amy had passed on, but Ross didn’t seem that interested.

“We think we’ve got our man.

Found a connection between Brodie and a guy we’ve been watching for years, deals in stolen art, but has never been convicted.

He’s being brought in for questioning.”

The call ended, but Angus stayed sitting, people watching and enjoying the spring sunshine.

A group of art students walked past and he was reminded of the red-headed girl in the green dress: who was she?

And was she connected to Brodie?

Why did he even assume she was an artist?

And what about Brodie’s wife, would she really just sit back and let her husband have affairs?

The police may well have found the murderer, but Angus couldn’t help wanting to know more about the people connected to the dead art dealer.

Perhaps a visit to Brodie’s gallery would provide some of the answers.