Nothing Ventured(36)

“Cyril Amhurst, the forger of the Churchill signatures, is coming up in front of the bench at Snaresbrook Crown Court later this week,” said William. “We’re expecting him to be granted bail, and to appear in court sometime in the next couple of months. I’m assuming he’ll plead guilty.”

“Never assume anything,” said Lamont.

“And the silver?” asked Hawksby.

“Turns out to be one of our regulars,” said Lamont, taking over. “Kevin Carter. In and out of jail like a cuckoo in a Swiss clock. But we’re not sure what he’s up to this time, although one thing’s certain—it can’t be his own money he’s using to buy that amount of silver. Way out of his league. DS Roycroft and DC Warwick will be going down to Barnstaple later today to keep an eye on Carter and try to find out what he’s up to.”

Bugger, William wanted to say for a second time that morning. He’d have to call Beth at the gallery, which he knew her boss wouldn’t approve of.

“Keep me briefed,” said Hawksby.

“And, Bruce, I suggest you and DC Warwick pay a visit to Pentonville as soon as William gets back from Barnstaple. Now, re turning to the Rembrandt for a moment: Mr. Booth Watson QC has been calling my office daily, demanding we return his client’s copy of the painting.”

“Not just yet,” said Lamont.

“Why not?” asked Hawksby.

“Because if Jackie or I were to turn up at Faulkner’s house, we wouldn’t get past the front gate. But if we were to send an inexperienced, wet-behind-the-ears young constable to deliver the painting, there’s just a possibility he might get a foot in the door.”

“Fair point,” said Hawksby. “But why not just yet?”

“Faulkner is booked onto a BA flight to Monte Carlo next Monday, and he won’t be back for at least a month.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“He’s a creature of habit. Every December he leaves for his home in Monte Carlo, and rarely returns before the end of January.”

“And how do you know which flight he’s booked on?”

“BA security is run by a former Met officer, who keeps me well informed, sir.”

“Something else that might be of interest, sir,” said Jackie. “He won’t be traveling with his wife this time. Sitting next to him, her ticket paid for with the same American Express card, will be a Miss Cheryl Bates.”

“She could be his secretary,” said Hawksby.

“I don’t think typing is her speciality, sir,” said Jackie as she passed a photo of Miss Bates in a bikini across to the commander.

A ripple of laughter broke out among the team, but order was quickly restored when Hawksby said, “So when Warwick turns up with the copy of the Rembrandt at Faulkner’s home in Hampshire, he will already be in Monte Carlo.”

“Correct, sir, but his wife will still be in Hampshire,” said Lamont.

“Good, because I have a feeling that Mrs. Faulkner might turn out to be a little more accommodating than her husband,” said the commander after taking a second look at the photograph of Miss Bates.





14


“I’m in real trouble,” said William as he turned on the ignition.

“With the Hawk or Lamont?” asked Jackie, as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Far worse. With Beth. I told her I’d be back in time for supper this evening, and now I’m on my way to Barnstaple with another woman.”

“I think this calls for a dozen roses,” said Jackie. “And I know just the person to solve your problem.”

As they passed through Earls Court, Jackie said, “Pull over.”

“But it’s a double yellow,” said William, “and we’re always fair game for traffic wardens.”

“We’ll only be a couple of minutes. And in any case, it’s official police business.”

Jackie got out of the car and William reluctantly followed her into a flower shop.

“A dozen roses,” said Jackie, “and make sure they’re fresh or I’ll arrest you for impersonating a florist. And we need them delivered.”

The florist took his time selecting each rose before asking for a name and address.

“Beth Rainsford, the Fitzmolean Museum, Prince Albert Crescent,” said William.

“Rainsford … Rainsford … Why does that name ring a bell?” said Jackie.

“Do you want to add a message?” asked the florist, handing William a card and a biro.

Sorry, something came up. Can’t make this evening. William x

“I thought you liked this girl,” said Jackie, tearing up the card. “Sounds as if you’re writing to your sister to let her know you’ve got the mumps. Try again.”

Miss you. Will call this evening and explain. Love William xx

“Not a lot better, but I’ve just spotted a traffic warden, so we’d better get moving.”

“That will be two pounds,” said the florist.

William handed over a couple of pound notes.

“Thank you, Mike.”

“My pleasure, Jackie,” said the florist as they ran back to the car.

“So what’s the plan once we get to Barnstaple?” asked William, when they joined the traffic on the motorway heading west.