Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(37)
‘Perhaps someone should kill Booth Watson and solve all our problems,’ suggested Ross.
The banging of palms on the table lasted for some time.
? ? ?
‘What can I get you, Ross?’ asked William.
‘Half a pint of bitter please, guv. Any more and I’ll fall asleep and be unable to keep up with your bright young turks.’
‘I’m very fortunate,’ said William, looking across at the rest of his team, who were sharing a joke. ‘They’re the new breed of professional coppers who don’t believe in cutting corners or winging it. They prefer to rely on solid evidence before making an arrest, rather than jumping to conclusions that won’t later stand up in court.’
‘I look forward to working with them,’ said Ross, ‘though I’ve already experienced what they’re like first-hand when I was working undercover. You included.’
‘Creepy,’ said William. He took a sip of beer before saying, ‘You mentioned during the morning session that you might be able to help me with my unpaid overtime job of attempting to track down Faulkner and put him back in jail.’
‘Yes, I’ve come up with one or two ideas. I’m now certain that ex-Superintendent Lamont is working as a consultant for both Booth Watson and Christina Faulkner.’
‘A servant of two masters,’ said William. ‘But on this occasion, it’s not a comedy.’
‘Jackie tells me she sees Lamont socially from time to time, and reports any information she picks up back to you.’
‘Along with stuffed brown envelopes she never opens.’
‘Remembering that money is now Lamont’s sole interest in life, I think I may have come up with a way of trapping both him and Booth Watson at the same time.’
William listened with interest to Ross’s ideas while throwing in the occasional question. He ended with, ‘I’m all for the idea, but we’d need to get The Hawk’s approval.’
‘I’ll leave that to you,’ said Ross, as he glanced over William’s shoulder and became distracted by a young woman standing at the bar. She was elegantly dressed, her white pleated skirt falling just below the knee, and her blouse buttoned at the neck. No jewellery and just a hint of make-up. So understated, yet so alluring. He couldn’t believe she was on her own. Their eyes met for a moment and she shyly turned away.
‘The Hawk hasn’t exactly given us the easiest of tasks,’ William was saying.
‘You should consider it a compliment,’ said Ross, as he tried to concentrate on William’s words, although his thoughts were elsewhere.
‘But if we don’t deliver, it won’t be long before we’re back investigating domestics, suicides and false confessions.’
Ross smiled before taking another sip of beer.
The woman returned his smile.
‘Let’s go and join the others,’ said William, as he picked up his glass.
Ross reluctantly followed his boss across to the far side of the room. By the time he sat down the woman was no longer looking in his direction.
He paid little attention to the team’s banter, making only the occasional bland comment. Jackie glanced across at the bar, and didn’t need to be told why Ross was so uncommunicative. It crossed her mind that the woman was a younger version of herself. Men!
‘We ought to get back to the Yard,’ said William, looking at his watch.
‘Must just go to the little boys’ room,’ said Ross. ‘I’ll catch you up.’
Once he was in the basement, he opened the lavatory door and grabbed a piece of toilet paper. He scribbled down his telephone number, folded the paper several times and hid it in the palm of his hand.
He walked quickly back upstairs, relieved to find the woman hadn’t left.
‘Hi,’ he said, as he brushed past her and left the little square of paper on the bar. Out on the street, he soon caught up with the others. Only Jackie noticed that he hadn’t been gone long enough to have a pee.
CHAPTER 12
BOOTH WATSON QUICKLY CLEARED CUSTOMS. He was carrying only a briefcase, as he planned on returning to London on the evening flight. Outside the airport he joined the short queue for a taxi and, when he reached the front, handed the driver an address.
As they approached the motorway, the driver turned left instead of joining the stream of heavy traffic flowing into Barcelona. Twenty minutes later, he drove onto a single-lane road which became a pot-holed path after a few miles.
Booth Watson glanced over his shoulder to check they weren’t being followed, as the instructions he’d received couldn’t have been clearer: ‘If you think someone might be following you, turn around, go back to the airport and take the next plane to Heathrow.’
He had assumed that after his client had disappeared a second time, the Met might well have a detail tailing him, but had quickly concluded even their budget wouldn’t stretch to that. Nevertheless, as Booth Watson was a man who left nothing to chance, he made an official complaint to the Home Office falsely claiming he had reason to believe his phone was being tapped, and that he was being followed. He had received a polite reply assuring him that neither was true, although he suspected it had been written only after Commander Hawksby had confirmed that ‘the dogs had been called off’.
The car continued down a narrowing path before coming to a halt at the edge of a dense forest. Booth Watson got out and, as instructed, waited for the bemused driver to turn around and head back to the airport. Once the car was out of sight, an electric golf buggy appeared from out of the trees and drew up by his side.