Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(62)

‘That’s generous of you, Christina, but auction houses require you to put down ten per cent of the hammer price on the day of the sale, and to pay the balance within fourteen days. If I failed to do so, not only would I lose the picture but they wouldn’t deal with me again.’

‘Why should that be a problem?’

‘You haven’t exactly proved reliable in the past,’ Beth reminded her sharply.

Christina looked suitably chastened before saying quietly, ‘Would it help if I were to give you a hundred thousand in advance?’

Beth refused to believe the offer was real, but somehow managed, ‘What would you expect in return?’

‘Twenty-five per cent of the profits.’

‘There has to be a catch,’ said Beth, still not convinced.

‘There is,’ replied Christina, opening her handbag. She took out her cheque book and wrote a cheque for ￡100,000, made out to Beth Warwick. ‘You’ll give me a third chance – or is it a fourth? – to prove whose side I’m on.’

Beth stared at the noughts, but was distracted when Christina began to remove the cakes from the stand, before wrapping them up in her napkin one by one.

‘What are you doing?’ said Beth, horrified.

‘You can share these with the children when you get home,’ said Christina, handing her the napkin.

‘But how do the management feel about that?’

‘They’ve got used to it,’ said Christina as she signalled to a waiter for the bill.

? ? ?

The prisoner didn’t take his eyes off the young woman who was heading slowly towards him.

It wasn’t until Miles had seen a photo of Mai Ling that he’d considered the possibility she might be the daughter of his rival art collector, Mr Lee, a man who had outbid him several times in the past. He had therefore agreed to see her.

Mai Ling took the seat on the other side of the table. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Faulkner,’ she said as if she was joining him for tea at the Savoy rather than visiting him in a category A prison, with guards, not waiters scattered around the tables.

Faulkner nodded.

‘My father has been offered your art collection for one hundred million dollars, and wanted to be sure the seller had your blessing,’ said Mai Ling. Like her father, she didn’t deal in small talk.

It was some time before Miles recovered enough to reply. ‘Blessing isn’t the word I would have chosen. As I know your father to be a man of few words, you can tell him, never. But I would like to know who it was claiming to represent me?’

‘My father thought you might ask that question and, if you did, instructed me not to answer it.’

Miles accepted that bribery wouldn’t work with this young woman, and even the suggestion of a threat would have been counter-productive. He simply said, ‘Was it Booth Watson, or my ex-wife?’

Mai Ling rose from her place, turned her back on him and walked away without once looking back.

The duty officer looked surprised when Mr Faulkner’s guest left the visitors’ room only a few minutes after she’d booked in, and the lip-readers on the balcony were even more puzzled.

Faulkner had only one thought on his mind as he made his way back to his cell. His next visitor would have to be ex-superintendent Lamont.

? ? ?

When Beth walked in the front door of their home, having had tea with Christina, she heard the phone ringing in the hall. She grabbed it, and was surprised to be greeted by a familiar voice she hadn’t heard for some time.

‘James,’ said Beth, ‘how lovely to hear from you.’

Beth happily recalled first meeting James aboard the SS Alden when they were on holiday. They had both liked the precocious and bright young American who had helped William to solve the murder of his grandfather. She assumed he would want to have a word with William.

‘I’m afraid William’s not at home,’ Beth said. ‘But I’m expecting him—’

‘It’s not William I wanted to speak to,’ said James. ‘I’ve got a problem I’m not sure how to deal with, and I think you’d be the ideal person to advise me.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘In William’s latest letter,’ said James, ‘he wrote to explain why you’d left the Fitzmolean, which I was sad to hear, but he also told me you’d started your own business.’

‘Which is still in its infancy and I’m afraid works on a limited budget,’ said Beth. ‘But if I can help in any way, I’d be delighted to do so.’

‘Do you specialize in anything in particular?’

‘We represent buyers and sellers of fine art, and I occasionally buy works myself if I spot something I think I can turn quickly. But I repeat, my budget is limited.’

‘But your brain isn’t, and that’s what I need.’

‘It’s clear you’ve inherited your grandfather’s charm,’ teased Beth.

‘That’s not the only thing I’ve inherited,’ said James, ‘which is why I need to seek your advice.’

‘Sounds intriguing,’ said Beth.

‘You’re right about that,’ said James. ‘But it’s also a little too sensitive to discuss over the phone, so I was thinking of coming to London so I could brief you in person.’