The art of murder, p.15
The Art of Murder, page 15
part #2 of Jordan Jenner Mystery Series
“No, just him,” Jordan said. “We haven’t been the closest, but times are changing now. Him being back has brought us closer, which I like. How about you?”
“No, I’m an only child,” Tomos said, looking at the menu. “Mum never wanted another.”
The waiter returned with their drinks and then took their order for food.
“But you ask a good question,” Jordan said, when the waiter had disappeared. “I like to read. Whenever I get the chance, I’ll read. Pop music is an interest of mine too. I used to enjoy nights out, but that doesn’t happen much anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I drifted away from people,” Jordan said. “Work took over.”
“I get you,” Tomos said. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve always been a loner.”
“A handsome man like you?”
“Ha, thanks.” Tomos grinned. “But no, seriously. I was homeschooled. And then I worked on the farm.”
“Homeschooled? Why?”
“It was easier for Dad,” Tomos said. “I only went to the real world, if you will, when I went to college. University was a bit of an escape for me. Especially in London. It sounds cliché, but I really did discover myself there.”
“University is always where people discover themselves,” Jordan said. “I think I probably did too.”
“Did you always know you liked men?”
“In some ways, I suppose I always did,” Jordan replied. “When I was a kid, there were boys I couldn’t talk to because I was fearful of them. A different kind of fear. An infatuated fear. I used to watch boys and want to be like them, look like them. I think I realise now that I was admiring them from afar.”
“Completely agree,” Tomos said. “College was a shock to me. I hadn’t really thought of men until I went to college.”
“You entered the real world.” Jordan laughed.
Tomos nodded. “That’s right. Parents were fine with it when I told them. Dad went quiet for a day or two, but he never made me feel bad.”
“Good,” Jordan said. “My parents accepted it straight away too. My brother is gay, so they lost any hope of us marrying a woman.”
“Wow. Both of you?”
“That’s right.”
“Isn’t that pretty rare?”
Jordan cocked an eyebrow. “Not really. It happens.”
Tomos nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah, true. Is your brother as good-looking as you?”
Jordan felt his cheeks sting. “You’d have to be the judge of that.”
“Got a picture?”
“Who are you on the date with?” Jordan laughed.
“Sorry,” Tomos said.
Jordan took out his phone and opened his photos. He thumbed through them until he found one of him and Ashley. “It’s fine.”
Tomos looked at the phone, his eyes narrowed. After a brief pause, he said, “You’re hotter.”
“You flatter me,” Jordan said.
The food arrived, piping hot and mouth-watering. Their plates in front of them, they ate in silence, neither sure what to say.
“Do you like the farm?”
“It’s fine,” Tomos said. “I couldn’t do anything else. Not because I love the farm so much, but because I literally couldn’t do anything else. I’m not qualified.”
“What about that art degree?”
Tomos shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Do you paint anymore?”
“Not really,” Tomos said. “Not at all. I try. I fail. I haven’t bothered for a while.”
“Why?”
“I was never good enough.”
“Was that just you beating yourself up?”
Tomos put down his fork and took out his own phone. He showed Jordan an image of a painting. Jordan looked at a car parked on a mountainside, the clouds rolling behind it in puffs of white.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Seriously?” Tomos asked. “The composition is all wrong. It doesn’t make you feel anything. It’s just a car on a mountain, right?”
“Well…”
“Exactly.”
“No, I mean, every bit of art I see is just…something,” Jordan explained. “It doesn’t make me feel anything.”
“That can’t be right.”
“But it is,” Jordan said. “I can appreciate the talent. But I don’t see the bigger picture. To me, that painting there is a car on the mountain. But you go and show it to somebody else, somebody who knows art, and that would be something completely different.”
Tomos locked his phone, just as a text came through, and put it away.
“I don’t think so.”
“All I’m saying is don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jordan said, trying not to think too much about the person texting Tomos. “What you just showed me is talent.”
Tomos didn’t reply, but Jordan thought he tried to hide a smile.
After their food, the pair left the restaurant and stood outside in the chilly spring air. The sun had set, Friars Walk truly popping with vibrant colours. Cars drove past, and Jordan and Tomos walked aimlessly, across the road and past Newport University, then came to a bridge. They walked halfway before turning and looking at the brown contents of the River Usk.
“You know this river flows from the Brecon Beacons?” Tomos said. “It goes from there through Carmarthen, then eventually gets to us.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah,” Tomos said. “Quite spectacular, really. Perfect place to hide a body.”
Jordan watched the water run by, shivering but not from the chill in the air. “Bit gruesome.”
“Just joking with you.” Tomos looked at him, a smile on his lips. “Thought you might appreciate the humour in your profession.”
“Yeah, totally,” Jordan sarcastically said. “Death is fun to laugh about.”
“Ah, we’re all heading there. May as well laugh at it before it happens.”
Jordan rested his hand on the railing of the bridge. They were the only two on it, framed by the bars, the world rushing by at their feet. Tomos’s hand found Jordan’s, taking it in his.
“I’m glad I met you,” Tomos said. “When I saw you at my mum’s, I was instantly attracted.”
“Nice of you to say.” Jordan managed to speak.
“Do you…” But Tomos stopped.
“What?”
Tomos avoided Jordan’s eye, instead looking at the apartments that looked over the river. “Do you think my mother did it? Do you think she killed him?”
Xander floated between them, watching them, waiting for the verdict.
“Do you think your mother did it?”
Tomos laughed, but it was humourless. “My mum? Of course not. She wouldn’t hurt a soul. She loved him.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Jordan said.
Tomos looked at him, from Jordan’s lips to his green eyes. Jordan tightened his grip on Tomos’s hand. He leaned in.
Their lips touched, soft, hesitant, until Tomos leaned in closer, his chest against Jordan’s. It was brief, harder, then soft again, and when they broke apart, Tomos looked flushed.
“You’re a special man, Jenner.”
Twenty-Nine
When Jordan got home, he found Ashley still hadn’t returned. He shut his apartment door and leant against it, staring up at the ceiling. His night with Tomos had been fun. Their conversation had felt small, two men getting to know one another, but after their kiss, he thought he would like to see the farmer again. Tomos had mentioned a second date as they were leaving.
Jordan walked into his apartment, waking Oscar from his sleep on the sofa. Oscar meowed and immediately demanded food. Jordan prepared Oscar’s food, looking around at the apartment, losing hope. It was a mess. Ashley had a tendency to drop his clothes wherever. Coats were lying on the table, on the back of chairs, and hung up on the corner of the doors. The hallway had his shoes discarded carelessly. The dishes in the sink were piled high. Jordan sighed. It was evident two men lived here.
He fed Oscar and began to clean his apartment, putting Ariana Grande on his Alexa speaker as he worked. He sang along, doing his best to hit the notes. He put one load in to the washing machine. He lifted up Ashley’s jeans, and as he did so, something fell out of the pocket.
Jordan pushed the jeans into the washing machine and shut the door, deciding on the setting. He turned to see what had fallen and spotted a business card. Oscar sniffed it.
“What is it, Osc?”
Jordan picked up the red card and, when he turned it over, found a number and an Australian address on the back. He stared.
JEWEL GALLERY.
Jordan stared at the writing, effectively typed to stand out on a red backdrop. He turned it back over, read the address, and spotted the website.
JEWEL.
Jordan stared at the wall. Ashley had a business card for Xander’s sponsors.
He leaned against the wall, looking out of the kitchen and to his living room where Ashley’s presence surrounded him. His brother had come home suddenly, leaving his boyfriend Ben behind. Jordan thought of what Susanne had said about Xander’s sponsors, the art gallery.
Why did Ashley have their card?
Jordan thought rationally. His brother worked in art. He knew Xander before the murder. He had followed Xander’s career.
And wasn’t it possible that Jewel had been handing out business cards at that event? Jordan hadn’t received one, but that didn’t mean Xander’s sponsors hadn’t been there.
Xander didn’t know his sponsors. He didn’t know what they looked like.
Jordan shook his head. He got to his feet and found his laptop. He sat on the sofa and searched the internet for Jewel.
Jordan opened a website at the top of the search and was greeted with a screen-wide image of an art gallery with sweeping blue glass and sculptures, two people absorbed in the work before them.
JEWEL – The Artists Playground read the strapline.
Jordan went to the Contact link. The website was for a London office, an address telling him they were situated on Mayfair. Scrolling down the page, past a contact form, Jordan discovered four separate boxes. Jewel had galleries in America, Australia, Japan, and Paris.
Where did Ashley work? Jordan had never asked, and Ashley had never said. He knew it was art. But did Ashley sell art, or did he buy it?
Jordan went to the About page and read about the history of Jewel. They had been founded in Paris in 1963. They prided themselves on nurturing new talent, following the roots of the founder, a Francis Jewel, who had wanted to put new talent at the foreground.
Now, Jewel had work displayed in the Tate, the Louvre, and prominent galleries around Europe. Their artists had lucrative careers and lifestyles. Jewel had become a management company, along with displaying work. They had modernised, bringing their artists and their work into the twenty-first century.
Jordan scrolled through the website to a page of clients. He expected to see museums or sponsorships, but instead, he saw names he didn’t recognise. For a moment, he was confused until he realised he was reading the names of the clients Jewel currently worked with, the work they helped sell from their artists.
Jordan scrolled right to the bottom of the alphabetical list and found Xander’s name.
They hadn’t removed him yet.
Jordan went back to the top, looking for Alice, checking both A and T, but she wasn’t there. He opened a new tab and researched his client, finding articles and a Wikipedia page.
He skimmed over Alice’s background in musical theatre before going to study a passion in art. He read about her being headhunted by Jewel, confirming what he had thought, and then saw that she had parted ways with the company a little while after Alice had paid off her blackmailing from the Dirty Dollys.
Jordan clasped his hands together, lost in thought.
The people behind Jewel sponsored Xander. Whoever they were, agents, dealers had made Xander into what he was when he died. But they were anonymous, not meeting with him, only selling his work, taking a percentage of his wealth. Jewel had sponsored Alice, resulting in the Dirty Dollys threatening Alice. Jordan knew in some way they had done the same to Xander, possibly going the extra mile to kill.
Did that mean Jewel were money laundering? Did their sponsors use illegal money to get new talent, knowing they could pay it off in the future when the cash came rolling in from sales? Was it corporate greed or staff corruption?
Jordan got to his feet, numb, and strayed to the sofa.
He thought of Alice, how she had been harassed, how she had dealt with the Dollys by meeting their demands. Xander, targeted along with some of his elusive inner circle. The Dirty Dollys seemed intent on terrorising Jewel clientele.
As Jordan tried to think of other avenues, his apartment door opened.
“Hello?” Ashley called from the hallway, then the door shut behind him.
“In here.”
Ashley walked in to the living room, taking off his hoodie. He smiled at his brother, looking around the room.
“I just went for a walk. It’s been a while since I’ve been around here. The routes are the same, but things change, don’t they? New apartments, new shops…”
“Ashley, who are Jewel?”
“What?”
Jordan finally looked at his brother. “Jewel. Who are they?”
“Is that something from a porn site?” Ashley tried to joke, but he didn’t smile.
Jordan sighed, picking up the business card. “Jewel.”
He threw it to Ashley, who caught it. Ashley looked at it, a blank expression on his face. “I don’t know who they are.”
“It was in your pocket.”
“My pocket?”
“Your jeans pocket, Ashley,” Jordan said. “I was doing the washing and it fell out. I just wanted to know what you knew about Jewel.”
“Why? Is it important?”
Jordan turned the laptop screen to Ashley. “Jewel managed Xander Draper. They sold his work. They made his career.”
“I see.”
“Ashley…is there something you need to tell me?”
Ashley dropped the hand holding the card to his side. “I don’t know.”
Jordan crossed his arms. “Ashley.”
Ashley sighed. “Fine. Let me make you a coffee. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Thirty
Coffees in front of them, Ashley sat on the floor and Jordan remained on the sofa. Oscar had walked into the hallway as if sensing he needed to leave the brothers alone.
“Of course I know who Jewel is. It’s my job to be aware of what is going on in the art world.”
Jordan nodded. “Why is that?”
“It’s my job.”
Jordan laughed, evoking the same response in Ashley. “Sorry, but what is your job?”
“You don’t know what I do?”
“Not really.”
“Wow,” Ashley breathed. “Okay. I’m higher management for a digital management company. We deal with artists. We promote their work, distribute their work, and make them into personalities. It’s all about influence, these days. It’s our job to make those people influential.”
“And Jewel?”
“Well, they’re the galleries that sell the work. They’re leading figures.”
“Your company, does it work with Jewel?”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
Ashley sipped his drink, letting the silence drag between them. Jordan thought he was fighting for time. “Well. Our company is a third party. We’re hired by Jewel to market their artists. So I know Xander more than you think. He never knew me. Why would he? We were the background team making him famous.”
“In what way?”
“We scheduled posts on his website, wrote most of his blog posts,” Ashley said. “We scheduled posts on his social media accounts. He had the most control of his Instagram. We just knew how to get those photos seen and liked by the right people. We advertised his work to galleries, and we made sure people went to his shows. We did that with all of Jewel’s clients.”
“How closely did you work with Jewel?”
“Fairly closely,” Ashley said. “I didn’t work for Jewel, I worked with them. They’re not a bad company. They spot talent and we help develop it.”
Jordan lifted his own coffee mug and drank from it, feeling the heat at his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“You never asked,” Ashley said. “And I didn’t think it was important. Not at first. I didn’t know Xander personally. He didn’t know me. But I wanted to go to his show, to see what the fuss was about. Then of course everything happened…and I didn’t know what to say. What to do.”
“That’s why it hit you hard.”
Ashley shrugged. “It was a gruesome thing to see. But I felt invested in the man. It was hard to see him lose everything, yes.”
“What do you know about Jewel?”
Ashley adjusted where he sat. Jordan wondered why he’d rather sit on hard flooring than the room on the sofa next to him. “They find new talent—headhunt them is probably the word for it—and they develop their work, helping to sell it around the world. They do a good job at it. But they wouldn’t do as good a job without my company working with them. It’s why it works so well.”
“What do you know about sponsorship?”
“That’s what they’ve termed it, though it’s not the official word,” Ashley said. “It can be seen as a risky business. They buy the work of an artist they see potential in, and then they go and sell it on for more. Knowing it works, they get more work from the artist, and it goes from there. The prices increase a little bit, and both parties make money. Most are happy, though some artists don’t like it.”
Jordan put down his half-finished coffee. “Why?”
“Some think they’re being cheated out of money,” Ashley explained. “Others think it’s giving people an unfair advantage. Others don’t think it’s for them.”
“The first initial sum that is used to buy work from the new talent, what do you know about that?”
“What do you mean?” Ashley asked.
“The initial sum of money. Where does it come from?”
