Chapter 19

Iain's palm rested gently on his daughter's cheek, his fingers parting her hairline. He bent and placed a silent kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm okay, Daddy" she replied, touching his hand with the tips of her fingers.

"I'm very pleased" he whispered then stood up to his full height.

"How is Sir Alfred?" Danny asked him, a softness in his words.

"Well," Iain replied, beginning to pace. He began at the corner of Sam's bed, twsted on the ball of his foot in front of Foyle's chair and hurried towards the dresser near the open door.. "He has found himself in quite a fair amount of trouble." He'd almost made two complete circuits before the last word came out of his mouth.

"I'm sure he was appreciative of your counsel, Iain" Danny replied, turning his upper torso to face his mentor.

Iain continued, barely completing three steps before the approaching wall necessitated a quick change in direction. He hummed to himself and ran shaking fingers along a glistening forehead.

"Murder" he mumbled, shaking his head. "In the grounds of the church, no less.." He paused for a moment of contemplation then continued along his path.

The springs under Andrew's legs squeaked. "I thought you said….," he began, facing his father – confusion on his face.

Foyle drew in a quick breath and opened his mouth to speak but a sudden outburst from Iain caused him to pause.

"I heard their confession with my own ears" Iain lamented, obviously disappointed with the whole situation. The volume of his speech was disproportionately loud for such a small space and the corner of Danny's mouth rose. "A terrible, terrible decision on their part, of course." His left foot collided with the leg of the bed.

"Who's decision?" Andrew asked, leaning forward.

Danny exhaled, seemingly happy to release a pent up tension. "Croxton and Darlington."

"Huh?" Andrew grunted.

"Sir Alfred's house maid wasn't the only one to have removed a painting from the summer house before it went up in flames" Foyle explained, leaning back in his chair.

Iain again shook his head and moaned.

"Of Course!" Sam exclaimed, her eyes suddenly as large as saucers. "The picture!"

Danny took her hands in his and frowned.

Sam flicked her eyes between Foyle and her husband, appearing to be unsure of how to proceed. Her brashness, apparently, won the internal struggle. She straightened her shoulders and drew in a deep breath.

"Before he died," Sam said, her words coming out quickly, "Jason Comino wanted to show Jack Thompson something, didn't he?" She slid her fingers from Danny's grasp and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap, her knuckles turning white. "He said 'I've got something to show you. Wait until you've seen it'".

"Sweetheart?" Danny pleaded, rubbing his large hand up and down the side of her forearm. "Slow down."

Sam sighed. Her clasped fingers became even paler.

"Try and explain it to me in a …. different way, love" Danny begged, the pain on his face obvious.

Foyle leaned forward in his chair, the ancient timber creaking. "One of Sir Alfred's pictures."

"They took it" Sam added, looking into Danny's eyes.

"From the fire?" Danny asked.

"Yes" Sam said, nodding.

"So they started a fire," Danny suggested, flicking his eyes over to Foyle for confirmation, "and in the confusion that ensued entered the building and stole the painting?"

Foyle gave one solid nod but said nothing.

Still looking at Foyle, Danny said "I'm guessing that they tried to hide their crime until the excitement died down and then, once everyone stopped asking questions, they'd retrieve their bounty and pull in a handsome sum."

"Looks like it" Foyle simply said.

"Hide a painting?" Andrew asked, his hands wide as if he were carrying something.

"Yes," Sam replied, her excitement returning. "Only they were discovered."

Foyle smiled as he ran a thumb across his chin.

"By…?" Andrew asked, leaning forward, his hand taking most of his weight and making the edge of the bed dip.

"Jason Comino" Sam told him, a glint in her eye.. She reached over and touched the tips of his fingers, giving them a squeeze. "He found out what they were up to.."

"And then" Danny added, "Jason told Jack and both went to investigate …. or confront them …. and Darlington got frightened because of Jason's connection to his uncle …. and so ..."

"He shot him" Foyle blurted.

"No wonder young Jack did a bunk" Danny lamented, shaking his head. "Probably thought he was next."

"Hang on, hang on" Andrew interjected, shaking his head. "How did the Comino lad find out. I mean, how did he know?"

"I'm afraid I'm to blame there" Iain said, suddenly bringing his pacing to a halt.

"Daddy?" Sam asked, turning to look at her father.

The rest of the room fell silent.

"Well, at the very least," Iain clarified, "I provided the inspiration."

"Iain?" Danny asked, rising to stand.

Iain took a moment to adjust his glasses. He drew in a deep breath and replied. "When I was bringing Christopher and Andrew home from the train station yesterday."

"When the car broke down?" Sam asked, her eyes begging for clarity.

"Yes, my love" he replied then took a couple of small steps towards the small bed post. He put a hand on the timber then continued his explanation. "We saw Sir Alfred's motor car go past."

Foyle nodded.

"It was being driven by …." Iain began then swallowed. "… his nephew."

All eyes were on Iain as he retold the story.

"Young Elliot had secreted the painting into his uncle's motor car and was looking for a place to hide it."

Iain began pacing once more, this time in the opposite direction.

"How do you know this, Daddy?"

"You know I can't divulge details of the confessional, my dear." Iain's face turned a slight crimson.

"The old stables!" Andrew's sudden outburst made Sam jump. "Sorry" he whispered, dipping his head a little.

"I'm afraid you're right, Andrew" Iain mumbled, shaking his head again.

"That would explain why it was open that night. Darlington must had forgotten to latch the door."

Sam clapped her hands together in excitement.

"And when the Home Guard began their exercise, Comino found their hidden treasure."

Andrew still looked flummoxed. His eyes squinted shut. "But the body was ..."

"Well," Foyle interjected, "wouldn't have done them much good to leave the body right next to their stolen goods, would it?"

"They'd have been found out" Sam added, smiling at Foyle.

"So they moved it? The body I mean?" Danny asked his wife.

Sam looked across at Foyle, a smugness radiating.

"Yes" Foyle replied.

"And Croxton's jacket?" Danny asked.

"He couldn't have worn it with blood – I'd have picked him for sure!" Sam declared with confidence. Foyle rolled his eyes.

The sound of Katie's cries could be heard, an urgent call to arms.

"I'll go" Danny said, giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek before standing.

Iain gave another sigh and followed Danny out of the room. "Bella, my love" he softly called.