Nothing Ventured(30)

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Jackie. “But there’s no way we’re ever going to find out.”

When they walked into their office they found Lamont on the phone, but once he’d finished his call, he sat back and listened to their report.

“You got lucky, William,” he said when they came to the end. “Just be sure you don’t make such a damn stupid mistake again. And remember that your responsibilities in this case aren’t over yet. If Amhurst pleads not guilty, you’ll be called upon to give evidence.”

“Surely he’ll plead guilty,” said William. “The evidence is overwhelming.”

“You can never count on it. I haven’t got the time to tell you how many slam-dunk cases I’ve lost. But I admit this one looks pretty solid. By the way, SO Rose called from Pentonville. He wants you to give him a buzz.”

After William had returned to his desk he sat in silence for a few moments, so many different thoughts whirling around in his head. Amhurst, followed by Beth, squeezed out by Rose. He picked up the phone, dialed HMP Pentonville, and asked to be put through to the SO.

“Rose.”

“Warwick, sir, returning your call.”

“You’re in luck, DC Warwick.” William flicked open his notebook. “Three women named Angie visited Pentonville to see prisoners between April the ninth and April the thirtieth 1981. A Mrs. Angie Oldbury, Angela Ibrahim, and Angie Carter.”

“If I could take down the details of all three, sir.”

“No need,” said Rose, “because one of the prisoners who was visited by an Angie is still in Pentonville, and one was black, which I have a feeling Appleyard might have noticed. The third was released just over a year ago.”

“What’s his name?”

“Patience, young man. The one you might be interested in is a right little villain called Kevin Carter, who lives in Barnstaple. That’s in Devon, in case you don’t know. He’s an engraver by day, and a burglar by night. So now it’s your turn to prove you’re worthy of the prefix in front of your name.”

“I’ll get on to it straight away, sir.”

“And did you pass on my salutations to your boss?”

“I did indeed, sir.”

“And what was his response?”

“I think you’d better ask him yourself, sir.”

“That bad,” said Rose before he put the phone down.

William wrote a detailed memo of his conversation with SO Rose before handing it to the boss.

“And what is the one word that leaps off the page?” said Lamont after he’d read the report.

“Engraver.”

“You’re learning fast,” said Lamont. “Though Carter and Barnstaple would be a close second and third.” He swiveled his chair around. “Jackie, you’d better join us.”

Once DS Roycroft had settled, the inevitable biro in hand, notebook open, Lamont continued.

“The two of you are going to have to spend at least a couple of days in the West Country keeping a close eye on Carter. I need you to find out what he’s up to, and exactly what he’s engraving on the silver he purchased from the vaults. And why he’s suddenly a buyer, when he usually nicks the stuff. He doesn’t have that sort of money, so someone must be bankrolling him. But who?”

“When do you want us to leave, sir?” asked Jackie.

“As soon as possible. Unless either of you have anything more important to keep you in London?”

“I may have,” said William. “I recently met a researcher at the Fitzmolean, and although I didn’t learn a great deal more about the theft of the Rembrandt, she suggested I visit the Fake Gallery in Notting Hill, which I had intended to do tomorrow morning.”

“Why?” barked Lamont.

“On the off chance I might spot a similar work by the artist who produced the copy of the Rembrandt.”

“Worth a try,” said Lamont. “And take the young lady along with you, especially if she was the reason you were late this morning.”

Jackie suppressed a smile.

“So that’s settled,” said Lamont. “You and Jackie can drive down to Barnstaple first thing on Monday morning.”

“Can I ask how the diamond smuggling is going, sir?” asked William.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, detective constable, or you might just find yourself back in Lambeth in time for the night shift.”



* * *



“I have an interesting case that might just appeal to you,” said Clare as she handed over a file marked PRIVATE.

Grace took her time studying her instructing solicitor’s appraisal of the case before saying, “But surely the presiding judge wouldn’t allow the trial to proceed, given the circumstances?”

“There’s a precedent,” said Clare. “Mr. Justice Havers allowed his son and daughter to appear before him, with one of them representing the Crown while the other appeared for the defense. But not before the defendant had agreed to the arrangement.”

“Not my usual fare,” admitted Grace as she read the charge sheet for a second time. “But I confess I find the challenge irresistible. And I bet my father wouldn’t put up any objection.”

“Have you told him about us?” inquired Clare, trying not to sound anxious.