Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(44)

‘Possibly,’ said the commander, ‘but I’d still rather he ended up with a life sentence for the three murders he was responsible for. If that proves unrealistic, we may have to consider the tax route. But let me warn you Paul, that has its own problems. Tax trials can last for months, and juries never fully understand the details, while a half-decent lawyer can run rings around even an expert witness. So be warned, you’ll have your work cut out, not least because it will be you who’s standing in the witness box giving evidence for days on end.’

Paul no longer looked quite so pleased with himself.

‘Jackie, what have you been up to when you’re not getting pissed with our ex-Superintendent?’

‘I’ve been continuing to investigate Clive Pugh, the insurance scam man who murdered his wife. I suspect he’s now planning to become a widower for a second time.’

‘But surely no insurance company would go anywhere near him,’ said Paul, ‘after he fleeced one of them for a quarter of a million.’

‘He won’t be bothering with insurance companies this time,’ said Jackie. ‘His sights are on a far larger prize than a quarter of a million.’

‘So what’s his new scam?’ asked William.

‘He’s been escorting an older woman, whose main attraction seems to be that she’s inherited a fortune from her late father.’

‘But surely she must have worked out he’s just another gold digger?’ said William.

‘Pugh’s far too clever for that,’ said Jackie. ‘He’s been putting his ill-gotten gains to good use. They eat at the finest restaurants, and when they go on holidays together they stay at five-star hotels and he always picks up the bill. I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposes to her soon, as it can’t be much longer before his cash runs out.’

‘What makes you think he’ll murder her?’ asked The Hawk. ‘Why wouldn’t he be satisfied just to live off her for the rest of his life?’

‘She may be ten years older than him, sir, but her father lived to a hundred and one. And, perhaps more important, Pugh’s mistress, who I’m convinced was his accomplice for the first murder, is still hanging around. So don’t be surprised if you open your morning paper one day to see “Wealthy heiress meets tragic death”.’

‘Surely he can’t hope to get away with it a second time,’ said Ross.

‘He’s far too bright not to have thought of a way around that.’ Once again, Jackie had their attention. ‘I’ve discovered he’s already booked their next holiday, to South Africa.’

‘Where only one murder in ten ends in a conviction,’ said William.

‘But we can always apply for an extradition order under section nine of the Offences Against the Person Act of 1861,’ said Paul, which silenced them all except The Hawk.

‘Not an Act the South Africans are all that familiar with,’ he said. ‘Especially when even the judges can be bought.’

‘Maybe he’ll think again, once Booth Watson tells him we’ve reopened the file on his wife’s murder,’ suggested Paul.

‘I doubt it,’ said The Hawk. ‘Pugh’s a gambler. He’ll weigh up the amount of money he stands to gain against his chances of being caught, and back himself against the South African police.’

‘It’s too bad we can’t afford to send you to the Cape for Christmas, Jackie,’ said William, ‘so you could brief us on what he’s up to at our next meeting.’

‘Where’s DC Pankhurst?’ asked the commander, pushing Jackie’s file to one side. ‘I was looking forward to finding out how she’s been getting on with her nightclub bouncer.’

‘She’s on leave, sir,’ said William.

‘With the bouncer?’ asked the commander.

‘No, sir. A certain Captain Archibald Harcourt-Byrne.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘He’s an officer in the Grenadier Guards,’ chipped in Jackie. ‘She doesn’t talk about him much, so I suspect it’s quite serious.’

‘I hope we’re not going to lose her,’ said The Hawk, his tone changing. ‘She’s a damn fine officer, with a promising career ahead of her.’

‘I agree,’ said William, ‘but DC Pankhurst is every bit as independent as her suffragette ancestor, and I’m sure she’s well capable of handling a Guards Officer while she continues to lock up miscreants on the side. So let’s allow her to enjoy a well-earned holiday while we all get back to work.’

? ? ?

‘Hurry up, old thing, or we might miss our flight,’ said Archie.

‘Relax. We’ve got more than enough time,’ said Rebecca calmly.

‘You’re right,’ said Archie, taking her hand. ‘What’s our gate number?’

‘Sixty-three.’

‘Why is my plane always parked at the other end of the airport?’ grumbled Archie.

‘And whenever I get back home,’ chipped in Rebecca, ‘I’m always stuck behind four hundred passengers who’ve just got off a jumbo jet. But I don’t care. I’ve been looking forward to this holiday. It will be my first real break in heaven knows how long.’

As they passed the departure lounge for Gate 49, she spotted him seated in the far corner reading The Times. Rebecca took a second look to confirm she wasn’t mistaken.