understand.
There was a pause while Sam brought another beer, then Barney began talking again.
‘This is the moment to bring Claude Kendrick on the scene because he played a role in the Larrimore stamp steal.’ Barney hitched himself forward. ‘Let me give you a picture of Kendrick. He was a tall, massively built queer of around sixty years of age and he wore an ill-fitting orange wig and pale pink lipstick. He was as bald as an egg and wore this wig just for the hell of it. When he met one of his lady clients he would raise the wig lite you would raise your hat - strictly a character, you understand, Mr. Campbell? He was fat’ Barney slapped his enormous belly. ‘Not the way I’m fat, you understand. My fat is good hard fat, but his was soft fat and that’s no good to anyone. He had a long thick nose and little eyes and what with all this fat covering his face and this long snout he looked like a dolphin but without a dolphin’s nice expression. Although he looked comic and acted comic, he was a top expert in antiques, jewellery and modern art. His gallery was crammed with outstanding objets d’art and collectors came from all over the world after a bargain.’ Barney grinned. ‘They got what they wanted, but never a bargain.
‘Apart from this flourishing business, Kendrick was also a fence. He became a fence by force of circumstances you might say. Important clients came to him wanting some special art treasure that wasn’t for sale. Their offer was so big, Kendrick couldn’t resist He found a couple of smooth operators who stole what was wanted and the collectors paid and kept whatever it was in their private museums for their eyes only. Some of the steals Kendrick organized would make your hair stand on end. He once organized the steal of a priceless Ming vase from the British Museum and that nearly got him into real trouble, but that’s another story and I won’t go into that now. I just want you to get the photo of how Kendrick operated.
‘Apart from being a successful fence, he supplied most of the rich creeps living here with top class works of art. He had a way with him that inspired confidence. People sniggered about his orange wig and his make-up, but they came to him and were glad to have his advice. He had a team of beautiful boys who were experts in decor and he was always fixing and refixing people’s homes.
‘When Elliot built his villa, he had gone to Kendrick who had arranged the decor and had unloaded a mass of art - if you can call it that - on him as well as this jade collection, plus a lot of other stuff at very fancy prices.
‘Elliot decided he could well do without the jade and come to that, all the freakish paintings that covered the walls of his living room. He was now in desperate need for ready cash - not to pay his bills: these would have to wait - but to pay his staff and keep himself and this seemed to him to be the way of getting it.
‘After some hesitation, because he knew once you offered something for sale the word could get around you were in financial trouble, he drove down to Kendrick’s gallery.’
* * *
Louis de Marney, Kendrick’s head salesman, came forward as Elliot entered the gallery.
Louis was thin and willowy and could be any age from twenty-five to forty. His long thick hair was the colour of sable and his lean face, narrow eyes and almost lipless mouth made him look like a suspicious rat.
‘Ah, Mr. Elliot . . . so good to see you again,’ he gushed. ‘Are you better now? Splendid . . . splendid. I was utterly shattered when I heard of the accident. Did you get my letter? I wrote . . . who didn’t? But you look so well! How wonderful!’
‘Claude around?’ Elliot asked abruptly. He hated being gushed over and specially by a queer.
‘Of course . . . a little occupied. You know how it is? Dear Claude works himself to death. Is there something I can do . . . something I can show you, Mr. Elliot?’ The small eyes were probing, the