Nothing Ventured(61)

For the first time, William felt he was a fully paid-up member of the team.

As he boarded the tube into London, he wondered if Lamont and Jackie had experienced similar success with Operation Blue Period. He considered calling her at home but decided it could wait until the Hawk’s meeting on Monday.

He left South Kensington tube station and headed in the direction of home. But was it home any longer? Would Beth have forgiven him, and already forgotten their first quarrel, or would she have locked him out? And if she had, who could blame her? He was feeling apprehensive as he walked up to the front door, but when he put his key in the lock, it not only opened, but his flowers were in a vase on the hall stand.

Beth came running out of the kitchen and threw her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I acted like a fool. Of course I realize you can’t talk about your work, especially if it concerns the Rembrandt. But, please, next time you steal away in the middle of the night, at least phone me and give me a clue when you’ll be coming home. I’ve spent the last three days wondering if you’d left me, and when you didn’t call…”

“I was on a job.”

“I don’t need to know,” said Beth, leading him through to the kitchen. The table was already laid with only the candles waiting to be lit.

“I’ve cooked a special lovers’ tiff meal in an attempt to make up for my appalling behavior. It will be ready in about half an hour, and then I can tell you my news.”

William pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. In fact I thought I’d lost you.”

He took her by the hand and led her out of the kitchen.

“But we haven’t had dinner yet!” she said as he dragged her up the stairs.

“People have been known to have sex before dinner.”

“Caveman,” Beth said as he began to unbutton her dress.



* * *



William was reading an article in The Guardian—a newspaper he’d never considered taking before he met Beth. He checked the report from their Rome correspondent a second time before handing Beth the paper and waiting for her reaction.

“Wow, over seven hundred thousand pounds,” she said. “What a coup. Is that why you had to leave in such a hurry? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

William nodded. “The real story should come out fairly soon, and it won’t be on page twelve, but the front page, but until then I can’t say anything.”

“I understand,” said Beth as she sliced the top off her egg.

“Last night,” said William, “you hinted that you also had some interesting news.”

“That was before you interrupted me, caveman.”

“So are you going to tell me?”

“I’ve got a new job.”

“You’re leaving the Fitzmolean?”

“No, not until you’ve returned the picture I’m not allowed to ask about.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve been promoted to assistant keeper of paintings.”

“I rather fancy living with an assistant keeper of paintings, even if I’m not sure what they do.”

“I’ll be responsible for organizing special events, like the Van Eyck exhibition next month, and I’ll report directly to Mark Cranston, the keeper.”

“With a rise in salary?”

“Not so you’d notice. But to be fair, I didn’t even know I was being considered for the position.”

“Your parents will be so proud of you,” said William.

“I phoned my father last night to tell him the good news.”

William was surprised, but didn’t comment.

“And I have another piece of news: Jez is leaving me.”

“For another man?”

“Yes, he’s moving in with his friend Drew, so I’ll be looking for a new lodger. And before you ask, the answer is no.”





22


William and Beth left the house together on Monday morning. The new assistant keeper of paintings wanted to be early on her first day, and William needed to write his report on the trip to Italy.

They parted company outside South Kensington tube station, before Beth went on to the museum by foot. William thought about the weekend they had spent together. It couldn’t have gone better, and he was now more keen than ever for Beth to meet his parents. He had asked her if she could join them for lunch on Sunday but she had once again put him off, explaining that she had already promised to visit a friend in hospital that afternoon, and didn’t feel she could cancel at such short notice. Perhaps next Sunday, William had suggested. And then something flashed into his mind that should have worried a detective long before now. He would double-check the postcards from Hong Kong when he got back to the flat tonight.

When William walked into the office he was surprised to find no sign of either Lamont or Jackie. He sat down at his desk and began to write his report, thinking he must remember to call Monti and thank him, because without his backup and assistance, Carter would have cashed in his chips and now be living off his ill-gotten gains.

At 8:55, William picked up the Carter file, walked down the corridor, and knocked on the commander’s door. Angela waved him through to the inner sanctum, where he found Lamont and Jackie already seated at the table, listening intently to the commander.