‘Perhaps you’re right.’

‘Is there something you want to tell me?’

Kepple looked around the empty gallery. He said, ‘I’m going to lock the door, and put up the Closed sign. Is that all right?’

‘Of course. If it makes you feel safer.’

‘It’s not that. But I have some artworks that might throw a light on my family. I’d like you to see them.’

He locked the gallery’s front entrance, then headed for a door behind the reception desk. Hobbes followed. They went upstairs into an office space. Another door led into a small private art gallery. ‘I only allow the true aficionado entry to this space.’ Hobbes was expecting to see erotic or even pornographic images of some kind, and indeed there were a few of those dotted around the walls: women, and men, in sultry poses, some more explicit than others. But the main wall was taken up with a number of inked drawings, nine altogether. They made a series.

Hobbes had never seen anything like them before.

David Kepple explained, ‘These paintings are part of a Japanese practice known as kusozu. The contemplation of bodily decay.’ He turned to Hobbes. ‘A dead body was taken out into the woods and left to rot. People would travel out there every so often to view the body as it decomposed. In this way, we are reminded that life is precious, made up of a few fleeting moments. Kusozu insists that we make the most of those moments before we die.’

Hobbes went up to the first of the images, to study it more closely.

Kepple continued, happy to play the part of a guide, ‘The series is known as The Body of a Courtesan and Her Physical Decay in Nine Stages. It was painted in 1850 or thereabouts. This first image shows the courtesan at the moment of death. Her body is falling back against the cushions on her couch.’

The two men moved on to the second image.

‘Here, we see her recently deceased, the body still fresh. As you can see, the top part of her kimono has been stripped away, revealing her breasts and shoulders.’

Each image was contemplated and described in turn.

‘The third image is difficult to take, I find. It shows extreme discoloration of the body, bloating, and the onset of decomposition.’

Hobbes murmured to himself.

‘What’s that?’

The detective nodded to the third drawing. ‘The title of this one might be The Night Flesh. What do you think? The skin is very dark.’

‘Yes, yes. If you say so.’ Kepple gathered his wits. He moved down the line. ‘Next we see blood leaking from the body. And here, in the fifth image, the lady’s skin is coming loose. We also see marbling of the flesh, and liquids being purged. Her clothing is now quite disintegrated. And, look carefully, the artist has painted in the flies and other insects, attracted by the smell of rot. Some will feed here, others lay their eggs in the flesh.’ Kepple beamed. ‘Exquisitely detailed, don’t you think?’