All That Glisters

By Joanna Hill

Once again Alistair Devenish is involved in a cross-Channel chase following the heist of valuable bronzes from a church outside Milan. Sold at auction, these have vanished before the new owner could pick them up. A whisper tells him that they have been taken abroad perhaps via a yacht berthed in Monaco, Alistair picks up the chase. He must interview people in Milan but the chief suspect has vanished. The old curate at the church is feeble and frail; does he know more than he is letting on?

Alistair’s exotic French fiancée, Isabelle, arrives in Monaco for the weekend. Out for a walk in the harbour, she mistakenly goes on board the huge yacht which Al has spoken so much about. The yacht leaves, she panics and hides on board; in the same space, is an Italian secret police man who has stumbled on a few of the bronzes; both their phones die after a few scrambled words; what to do?

Alistair learns in Milan that the old curate, together with a young man, have left for Genoa to rendezvous with the yacht, taking sacks of apparently heavy goods. He races to the Port at Genoa and with the Italian maritime police they pursue the yacht to sea.

Finally, caught out at sea and held to account, the bronzes on board are recovered but are they the bronzes? Not what they seem; one of them leaks a substance; what is it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jun 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035843411

Joanna Hill

Joanna Hill has lived between, London, New York, Monaco and rural France but has now moved to a beautiful Elizabethan mansion in Sussex, once the home of her maternal grandmother. Far from basking in grand surroundings, Joanna lives in the old kitchens! She began writing in New York where she worked for the Institute of Fine Arts of NYU and continued in France writing articles for France magazine and for History Scotland. She also wrote the first of her history books. She also has a very handsome dog, a coal-black ‘Sproodle’ (springer poodle cross), who is great company.

Book preview

Chapter One

‘Hi there, Alistair.’

The tall young man at the caisse swung around, bank card still in his hand. ‘Goodness, what are you doing here, Pierre?’

‘I just got back from a jaunt to Brussels. Where are you coming from?’

‘I’ve been at home tidying loose ends after that case I had with the stolen paintings. I’m also trying to figure out when and how I am going to be able to have enough time off to get married!’

‘I’d forgotten that someone told me you were engaged. Felicitations!’

‘Thanks. Bella is getting a bit fractious over the delays but once this job here is wrapped up, we will definitely set the date or maybe we’ll elope! Much less trouble that’s for certain!’

‘Are you heading into MC now?’ asked Pierre. ‘If so, can I beg a lift. The chopper hasn’t got a seat for at least an hour.’

‘I know, it’s too darn popular. My deadlines are such at the moment that I can’t risk it. Hop in.’

The airport at Nice used to be rather small and simple to navigate but with the huge expansion of construction bringing more and more people to live on the Cote d’Azur, it has also grown to service more airlines such as Easy Jet and the traffic on the approaches is heavy. Alistair crawled out of the parking lot behind a long line of cars driven by impatient Nicois before turning onto the autoroute and heading East.

To tell the truth, he was a little nervous. He didn’t recall ever feeling like this before; was it because of the nature of the job or because he and Isabelle were so tangled up in love that the idea that anything could come between them was too devastating? He didn’t know, but he had a strong feeling that this job was going to be no picnic and that he needed his wits about him.

He was admiring the landscape as he headed towards Monaco; he could never decide whether he liked the famous Cote d’Azur or not. Too many people is definitely a given, but, on the other hand, when you let your gaze travel up and across the background, Les Alpes Maritimes, what could you possibly find to criticise. The mountains rise in a seemingly impenetrable rocky wall to the north, tumbling down an almost sheer drop into the Mediterranean; the view is pretty stunning! His in-car phone growled. ‘I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.’ He switched off. God knows he had been working solidly for weeks now, had hardly managed to see Isabelle and now had been sent out on this job which he did not like the sound of. It was strange, he thought to himself, how some jobs were, from the start, going to turn into a nightmare.

Alistair works for a firm dealing in the theft of major art works and the corruption and even blackmail that often went side by side with it. He had only just completed another job and had been looking forward to a bit of peace in the office in London together with time with Izzie, when this job had come in. Some recently auctioned, and very well known, bronze sculptures had been stolen in or near to Milan in Northern Italy. Not only had they been stolen but the purchaser was also claiming that at least two of the pieces were fakes; he wanted all his money back.

‘God, he’ll be asking for interest next,’ grumbled Alistair, not entirely under his breath.

Of course, he told himself, you don’t know if some of them are phony or not…as yet.

He turned off the autoroute at the peage; the exit towards Monaco. Expensive these autoroutes, he thought, not for the first time. He knew that if you lived down here you would buy a pass but he was really not here sufficient for that.

He suddenly realised he had hardly spoken a single word to his passenger. ‘Sorry, Pierre, it’s always a bit of muddle, an expensive muddle, getting off the autoroute. If I spent more time here, I would get an abonnement but you know, I never know where my job will take me next so it seems a bit of an extravagance. Do you know Monaco?’

‘No, no I have never been here before but, of course, one has always seen it on films, Grace Kelly etc. I’m coming now to look at a boat that a friend of mine is thinking of buying, in fact I think he’s in the process of doing so. It is moored in the main harbour off the Quai Antoine 1st wherever that may be.’

‘No problem, I can drop you there very easily. I’m spending the night in a flat belonging to my aunt. I’m investigating the robbery of some bronze sculptures. These are well known objects which have been in a church for several hundred years. Usual story, church needs loads of money for a new roof, so they look around and decided what they won’t really miss and this lot decided on the bronzes. They were then sold at auction just the other day but before the purchaser could collect them, they vanished, but, unfortunately for him, the buyer, he had already paid the auction house; he is, as you can well imagine, furious. The Auctioneer says that since he had paid them for the items, they were no longer their responsibility. Moot point!’ Good pickings for a bunch of lawyers, thought Alistair.

Sometime later, Alistair realised that Pierre had not made any response; you’d have expected at least an "Oh how ghastly or a shocked I don’t believe it"!

Alistair wove his way down zig zagging towards the harbour. They passed the Botanic Gardens which are so steeply carved out of the mountainside that sometimes men working there require to be tied on a rope! The sea sparkled below and figures, appearing like ants on the decks of the moored boats, seemed to be running in all directions. The quays at Monaco are often very busy and at this time of year, many of the boats were being prepped for the summer season. A very large dark blue yacht was the centre of considerable activity and Alistair pointed to it saying, ‘There, Pierre I am fairly sure that is the boat you’re to vet.’

‘How on earth do you know that?’

‘Well, I’m not entirely certain but I do know she is for sale. She was bought last year by a mega rich Indian, but I gather he suffered terribly from seasickness and by the end of last summer, he had decided to sell; not much fun having an expensive trophy if you can’t enjoy it!’

‘Poor bloke,’ said Pierre.

‘Not sure the poor bit is relevant, but he’ll just have to find another expensive toy to play with.’

In fact, Alistair did know a considerable amount about the Blue Sapphire and he was going to be very interested to see who bought her. Boats had played quite a major role in his job and were always hard work; for one thing, if it should be a case of robbery, there were just too darn many hidey holes on a yacht; the majority of the crews could usually not speak English and the skippers could be unpredictable.

He swung the car down the Boulevard Albert 1 and then onto the Quai Antoine 1. This is the broad waterfront road that runs along the western side of the main harbour. There is also a big underground parking lot which is very handy in a place where space is at a premium. Alistair crawled down the Quai looking for anyone who might be connected with the Blue Sapphire. Suddenly seeing a young man sporting a sailor’s cap, he pulled up, "Sapphire"?

‘Oui, Monsieur?’

‘Here you are, Pierre. How was that for service?’

‘Brilliant.’

‘I hope all goes well but I’ll look in on you tomorrow.’

Pierre suddenly appeared to get flustered. ‘Oh no, don’t bother, I don’t know where I’ll be staying or what my plans will be!’

Rather surprised, Alistair raised a hand in farewell and turned down into the parking lot. He sometimes wondered, idly, what would happen if there was a sudden super high tide, a tsunami, causing water to flow down into the parking space underground. It was a sobering thought and, as usual, he quickly pushed it aside.

As he walked across the Quai to the front door to the small block of flats where his aunt’s flat was located, he wondered why Pierre Dunlop had been so dismissive. Bit peculiar but then, he really didn’t know the man at all well, in fact