A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,47

of weeks that’s going to be perfect for us. It’s a retrospective of Liverpool artists from the 1960s, featuring Stuart Sutcliffe and his contemporaries. It’s got photographs by Edward Chambré Hardman, poetry, art, everything from the period. Can’t wait! Will you come with me?”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“What if I told you there’ll be paintings by Millicent Mayhew?”

“Now I’m interested. Let me know what day.”

“Right. I’d better get back downstairs now so Eirlys can go on her break.”

“Good. And I hope that means you’re really going to get back to work. I’m starting to wonder how you ever managed without her. And don’t forget we’ve got an appointment on Monday with Jones, the solicitor, to sign the papers on the new spa.”

“Good morning, ladies. Right on time, I see.” Richard Jones smiled as he stood up to greet the pair and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. Penny set a package down beside her chair and leaned forward. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the painting above his head.

“Now, Penny,” he began, “stay with us here for the signing, and we’ll chat about the other matter when we’ve wrapped up the real estate business.” He peered at her over the top of his glasses. “You’re investing a lot of money in this property, although I must say I was very pleased indeed to see you got it for considerably less than the asking price.”

“It had been on the market for a very long time,” Victoria explained, “and it’s going to need a lot of work. We know that. The roof and guttering will be expensive, so the vendors had to take that into account. And lying empty for so long didn’t improve its condition.”

Jones nodded and then brought out the legal documents he had prepared.

“Well, if you’re ready, let’s get started.” He looked from one to the other the way he always did. “I always think this process calls for a special ceremony of some kind to mark the occasion. Maybe I should have to wear a special hat or something.”

“A nice blue velvet one with a gold tassel,” suggested Penny. “Something to give it a medieval judicial look!”

They all smiled, and Jones pointed to the places on the documents where signatures were required. They worked in silence, except for the occasional light ripping sound as he peeled red and yellow SIGN HERE tabs from the papers.

A few minutes later, they all sat back in their chairs.

“Congratulations!” he said.

Victoria and Penny looked at each other, their smiles silted with anxious excitement.

“Yes, but it’s a bit daunting, that’s for sure,” Victoria said. “We’ve just bought ourselves a derelict stone building beside the river. Still, wait until you see what we make of it!”

“I have no doubt you ladies will turn it into a charming, prosperous business.” He replaced the signed papers in a large folder and stepped out from behind his desk. “And now I’d better get out of the way so Penny can get in here to look at the painting.”

Penny came round behind him.

“Actually, Mr. Jones,” she began, “I wanted to do more than just look at it. I wondered if you might lend me this painting for a few days. I’d like to have the time to really examine it, and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to photograph it.”

She hurried on.

“I know you wouldn’t want your clients looking at an empty picture hook, so I brought you this painting to hang in its place.” She pulled out the watercolour of the blowsy roses from Emma’s flat. “I know it’s not nearly as good, but just for a couple of days.” Her earnest pleading seemed to amuse him.

“Yes, all right,” he agreed after a moment. “I’m sure you appreciate how precious it is to us and I know you’ll take good care of it. And just for a couple of days, mind. In fact, we should probably set a day for its return. You know perfectly well I wouldn’t entrust it to anyone else. Shall we say Friday?”

Penny agreed and reached up to take down the painting. As she touched it, she felt a frisson of excitement ripple over her. She set it down carefully on the solicitor’s desk, quickly removed the wrapping from the replacement painting, and hung it on the empty hook behind his desk.

Jones glanced at it, and then gave her a measured look.

“You should know, Penny, that my brother, Alun, is not happy with what you’re doing. He thinks that