Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(62)

‘So what’s the answer to your rhetorical question, Inspector?’

‘He already knew his study door was unlocked, because that was all part of his escape plan should the police ever turn up.’

‘And where does a wristwatch that lights up fit in with your “Rossonian” theory?’

‘First, ask yourself why there’s no handle or lock on the door of the safe.’

‘What’s your conclusion?’

‘It wasn’t a watch, but the key to opening the heavy metal door. All he needed to do when the face lit up was to enter a code and then the door would open.’

‘That would explain how he managed to disappear into thin air but was still able to call the butler moments later.’

‘And if you’re interested,’ continued Ross, ‘I can tell you the name of the company that made that door.’

‘NP,’ said William, still in the game. ‘The letters that were engraved in the bottom left-hand corner.’

‘Not bad, choirboy, but do you know what NP stands for?’

‘No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.’

‘Nosey Parker. Colonel Parker is the one man who can tell us how to open that door.’

‘But you’ve only got a week to go before you leave the force.’

‘Then I may have to postpone my retirement for a little longer if I’m going to prove my theory is right.’

‘Who needs an ex-copper who’s going to work for a holiday company run by two complete lunatics?’

‘You do,’ said Ross, producing a small tin box from an inside jacket pocket. He flicked it open to reveal the plastic mould of a key.

‘Faulkner’s study door?’

‘If I’d taken the key,’ said Ross, ‘he would have had the lock changed before we’d reached the airport.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes,’ said Ross, producing his miniature video camera. ‘I’ve recorded the only safe route through the forest to the front door. So you can’t survive without me.’

William admitted defeat and shook hands with his partner as a stewardess leant over and handed each of them a plastic tray of dry rice and heated-up beef, with a sachet of brown sauce.

‘Anything else?’ asked William.

‘Yes,’ said Ross. ‘I’d prefer to be sitting up front in first class next to Christ.’

‘I think a choirboy is more likely …’

‘It’s better to save one sinner,’ countered Ross.

? ? ?

Faulkner picked up the phone on his desk and listened.

‘All clear, sir,’ said the butler. ‘Our man at the airport has just rung to say that he saw both of them board a plane for London.’

‘Both of them?’ repeated Faulkner.

‘Chief Inspector William Warwick and his second-in-command, an Inspector Ross Hogan.’

‘The Chief Inspector’s wife is shortly to get an unpleasant surprise, and it’s not just that she won’t be getting her hands on my Frans Hals for her autumn exhibition,’ Faulkner said, before he slammed the phone down. He left the room, climbed the stairs and, after tapping his watch, entered an eight-digit code. When the inner door opened, he stepped inside the safe, checked his watch again and entered a second code making it possible for him to return to his study on the ground floor.

When the door opened, he was greeted by the sight of Collins waiting for him with a freshly poured flute of champagne resting on a silver tray. He grabbed the glass on the move and said, ‘Is Mr Booth Watson still with us?’

‘Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you in the drawing room.’

Faulkner glanced around the room, which had been ransacked. ‘I see the Chief Inspector left his calling card,’ he said, before heading for the drawing room, pausing only to straighten a picture in the corridor.

Booth Watson rose as his client entered the room. Faulkner collapsed into the nearest chair and stared up at a redundant double picture hook on the wall.

‘So, the Caravaggio was nothing more than bait to find out where I was holed up.’

‘It would seem so,’ said Booth Watson. ‘And you won’t be pleased to hear that they took the painting back with them.’

‘Just make sure the cheque bounces.’

‘I’ve already spoken to the bank. His Lordship presented the cheque this morning, and they were about to cash it when I called.’

‘I’ll still get hold of that picture,’ said Miles, while looking up at the empty space on the wall.

Booth Watson didn’t comment.

‘How did you manage to avoid being seen by the police?’

‘Collins took me up to one of the maid’s rooms on the top floor and I hid under her bed.’

‘Didn’t the police check her room?’

‘One of them came in, but found a gardener having sex with the maid. He apologized and quickly left. But you’ll now have to face the fact this place will be under constant surveillance.’

‘We always knew that was bound to happen sometime. At least I was well prepared,’ said Faulkner. ‘But now I need to plan my escape because it won’t be too long before they’re back.’

‘When and how?’ said Booth Watson. ‘We have to assume they’ll have patrols on the road out of here, twenty-four/seven.’