‘Miss Forbes’ sister has asked me to look into Harriet’s death,’ Nino began, taking out a letter. ‘She’s written this for you, to prove that I’m her representative.’

Jobo took it gingerly, read it, and passed it back. Of course it could be genuine, the dealer thought, but then again, anyone could run off a letter on a computer. The thought of the computer made him clammy and he kept his eyes averted from the lifeless screen on his desk.

‘I didn’t know the victim.’

‘I understand,’ Nino replied, ‘but you know of Angelico Vespucci?’

Jobo’s voice was a croak in his throat. ‘Who?’

‘Can I speak openly?’ Nino asked, surprised at Jobo’s nervousness. ‘I’m working for two people, investigating crimes which appear to be linked. You know Gaspare Reni?’

‘The dealer?’

‘Yes. He’s a friend of mine and because of that I got involved with the death of Seraphina Morgan.’ Nino paused. The air in the room was leaden. ‘It all comes down to the portrait, Mr Kido. You know the one I mean – the Titian.’

Jobo tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.

‘Titian? This is news to me.’

‘But it isn’t, is it?’ Nino countered. ‘You’ve known about it since it surfaced. You, Triumph Jones and Farina Ahmadi are all after it. Gaspare Reni had it, but it was stolen from him. And it’s not been found since.’ He leaned towards the dealer and Kido automatically leant back. ‘Someone’s copying The Skin Hunter. But you know that too, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

Nino paused.

‘Yes, you do. The way you ran off like that proved it. You were spooked when I mentioned the name Vespucci to your receptionist. I dare say if I hadn’t known this area of Tokyo as well as I do, I’d have lost you. Which makes me wonder why you were spooked. Did you think I was coming for you?’ He studied the man’s face. ‘Have you been threatened?’

‘You have no right to ask me questions like this! I’m a respectable art dealer—’

‘With a not so respectable private gallery.’

Jobo paused, staring at Nino furiously. ‘What I have in my personal collection is no business of yours —’

‘You collect images of killers. That’s means you’d be after the Vespucci portrait. As a dealer and as a collector. Any Titian would be a coup, but this one – Titian’s portrait of The Skin Hunter? Now, that would be the prize of your collection.’ He stared into the dealer’s face, trying to read him. ‘You are being threatened, aren’t you?’

Glancing away, Jobo found himself torn between wanting to confide and wanting to have Nino thrown out. He knew that he couldn’t keep denying his interest, just as he knew he needed help. The incident the other night had terrified him, and he hadn’t dared to go online since. As for the package he had received earlier … He swallowed with effort.

No one could remain in suspended animation. He had to do something. Back off? No, he’d gone too far. There was only one course of action Jobo Kido could take – get help. And sitting in front of him was Nino Bergstrom, hopefully ready to offer some.

‘How much do you know about the murders?’ Nino asked.

‘Which ones?’

Jobo had given himself away and Nino was quick to react. ‘So you know about the recent murders? I mean, the other two, apart from the one in Tokyo.’

‘I might … have read about them.’

‘Where?’

‘News travels,’ Jobo stammered. ‘It was on the internet. And I noticed the similarities. The women were skinned.’

‘I don’t suppose you noticed the website – angelicovespucci.1555.com?’ Nino asked. ‘I can see from your reaction that you did. Have you looked at it?’

Transfixed, Jobo nodded dumbly.

‘I sent an email to the site,’ Nino continued, ‘but I got no reply.’ He was watching the dealer. ‘Of course the killer wouldn’t want to talk to someone like me. He’s aiming higher – for the top.’ Jobo said nothing and Nino continued. ‘Did you correspond with him?’

The reaction was startling. Leaning forward in his seat, Jobo was almost pleading. ‘He answered me! He answered my questions!’ He took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. ‘I wanted to draw him out, find out more about the Titian. But I never expected him to …’ He stopped talking, jerking his head towards the computer. ‘He talks to me. Every time I go online, he responds.’

‘And you thought you could manipulate him?’

‘I was—’

‘Stupid,’ Nino said succinctly. ‘You let him in, Mr Kido. He was looking for someone just like you. Exactly like you. In fact, you were probably his number one choice.’

‘Oh God. Why?’

‘Your private collection. He thinks you’re soulmates.’

Jobo put the handkerchief to his mouth. ‘That’s not all.’

‘Has he been in direct contact?’

‘Someone was at the gallery the other night. We were closed and everyone had gone home. And then I heard someone outside and I saw them look in at the window.’ He glanced over, almost as though he expected to see the man again. ‘He was rattling the door handle. I thought he’d get in!’

‘But he didn’t?’

‘No, he went away,’ Jobo replied, getting to his feet. Going into the washroom, he returned a moment later with the package. He was holding it in a towel, so that his hands didn’t come into direct contact with it. ‘This arrived earlier today.’ He put the box on the desk and stepped back from it.

Curious, Nino took off the lid and stared at the object inside.

‘Was there a note?’

Jobo shook his head. ‘I didn’t look for one.’

Lifting the edge of the cloth on which the skin was lying, Nino glanced under it. Then he checked the lid. There was nothing written anywhere on the package.

‘I need to see what he wrote on the site, Mr Kido. Everything he wrote to you.’

Then, suddenly, there was a suspicion in the dealer’s eyes.

‘I don’t know who you are!’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know who sent you—’

‘I told you. Louisa Forbes and Gaspare Reni—’

‘So you say!’ Jobo cried, almost incoherent. ‘But you could be lying.’ He pointed to Nino’s pocket. ‘That letter could be a fake! It could all be fake. You might have been hired by Triumph Jones or Farina Ahmadi to find out what I know. You could be the man on the website—’

‘But I’m not.’

‘So you say!’ the dealer repeated. He was beginning to panic. ‘I don’t know who you are!’

‘So phone Gaspare Reni. You know him. He’ll vouch for me,’ Nino replied. ‘It’s not me you need to be afraid of, Mr Kido. I don’t want the Titian. I want to help.’

Kido shook his head. ‘No one can help me.’

‘Show me what he wrote,’ Nino said again.

‘I can’t—’

‘Show me! I can’t help unless I know what’s been going on.’

Nodding, Jobo turned on the computer, feeding in the name of the site and watching as it came up on screen. A portrait of Angelico Vespucci flashed up, followed by the words The Skin Hunter. A Tribute.

‘He’s mad,’ Jobo said, slumping into his seat.

‘He’s clever,’ Nino replied. ‘Now, go into the site. Get him online—’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’

He watched as the dealer entered the forum, logging in. A moment later a message came up.

Hello, Mr Kido. How are you today?

Raising his eyebrows, Nino glanced at Jobo. ‘Satisfied? If it was me, how could I be talking to you online?’

‘You couldn’t …’ Jobo replied, relaxing slightly. ‘So, what d’you want me to reply?’

‘Tell him that you got the parcel—’

‘I can’t!’

‘Tell him.’

‘No,’ Jobo repeated, pushing away from the computer. ‘You talk to him.’

Sighing, Nino turned to the computer and typed in:

I received the package.

Answer: Did you like it?

Nino: Was I supposed to like it?

Answer: You appreciate beautiful things.

Nino: Whose skin was it?

Answer: You’re very direct today. Not like yourself. I do hope our conversations aren’t being shared. I asked you for secrecy, for your absolute discretion … Is this Mr Kido I’m talking to?