‘No one’s going to find it easy to sell a rare watch of that high value, regardless of its provenance,’ Grace replied.
‘That’s what worries me, Detective,’ he said. ‘Maybe some scumbag who knows nothing about watches took it and flogged it to a fence for a few quid.’
‘Which is why you went to Marbella, right? To stop the watch from being taken any further distance overseas? Anthony Macario and Kenneth Barnes got in your way, so you had them drowned. Am I warm?’
‘Warm? You’re the advance guard of the fucking Ice Age. I suggest you stop wasting public money having freebies at football matches, and get back to catching villains.’
69
It was 10.15 p.m. by the time Roy Grace drove out through the congested exit of the Amex stadium car park. There was an accident ahead on the A27, which partially blocked the road, and it took him another forty minutes to finally arrive back at Cleo’s house.
He punched in the entry code to the gate and entered the cobbled courtyard, looking at the house next door, which was in darkness, curious about the new neighbours. Seemed like they went to bed early, which was good news. In a small, gated community like this, the biggest nightmare would be someone who stayed up late playing loud music.
He let himself in, happily unaware of the figure behind net curtains in a dark, upstairs room next door, cigarette burning in the ashtray beside his tumbler of whisky, who was watching him with hate burning in his eyes.
All was quiet in Cleo’s house, with a few dimmed lights on downstairs. Humphrey bounded over and he patted and hushed the dog. Then he removed his shoes, tiptoed across the lounge to say hi to Marlon, and went into the kitchen. Cleo had left him a plate of cod, mash and beans wrapped in clingfilm and handwritten instructions on how long to microwave it, followed by a row of kisses.
He followed the instructions, gave Humphrey a biscuit, poured himself a glass of rosé wine from a bottle in the fridge, gave Humphrey a second biscuit, then carried his meal on a tray back into the living room, and sat on the sofa, which the dog insisted on sharing with him. He promised Humphrey he’d take him out for a walk later, switched on the television, the sound low, to see if there was anything he wanted to watch. Then he noticed the handcuffs.
They lay on the far right-hand side of the low coffee table, pinning down a handwritten note, which said:
For sometime soon . . . XXXXXXXXXXX
He grinned, then channel-surfed through to Sky News, and watched the banner headlines. When he had finished eating he picked up another of the books on the history of the White Hand Gang and turned to the index, looking for one name in particular. There were six different page references against it. He began to read through them; the further he read, the more he became convinced.
Then he was distracted by Humphrey suddenly sitting up and giving a single bark.
He turned to see Cleo standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding several silk ties in her hand and wearing nothing but a very horny smile.
70
‘What you smiling about, old timer?’ Glenn Branson asked.
It was 8.25 a.m. Grace looked up from his desk, holding a half-eaten Trudie’s bacon sarnie in his hand. ‘The report from yesterday’s progress at the trial. It’s looking good for us.’
Branson swivelled around the chair in front of his desk, and sat astride it, placing his hands on the back. He looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. During the arrest of Carl Venner, Branson had been shot, the bullet, fortunately, missing all of his internal organs. ‘Glad to hear it. Would hate to think it went any other way.’
‘How’s you?’
‘Full on damage limitation. Ari did a great job of poisoning my kids against me. I’ve got an unexpected ally in her sister, who turns out to be a great Ari fan – not.’
‘What about the boyfriend?’
‘He had the nerve to come round for some of his possessions – and to give me verbal for changing the locks! Told him if he wanted his stuff, he’d better start looking in the local skips. Can you believe it, the kids wanted to see him?’
‘I can believe it, matey. Of course they’re missing him. Remember, their lives have been turned totally upside down. For the past year or so he’s been their father figure. You’re going to have to take it one step at a time. One day your kids will realize what a decent guy you are.’
‘You think so?’
‘Sure. Give ’em thirty years or so to adjust – you know – to the fact you left their CDs all over the floor and regularly forgot to feed their goldfish.’
‘I don’t know why I like you,’ Branson said. ‘You know, sometimes you remind me of that bastard Popeye Doyle in The French Connection.’
‘Didn’t he handcuff his girlfriend to his bed?’
‘In the opening scene. Or maybe she handcuffed him.’
Grace smiled.
‘That’s a very dirty grin.’
Grace nodded, memories of last night still vivid in his mind. ‘Yeah. Very!’
‘Cleo’s a bit kinky, is she?’
Grace gave him a shrug. ‘You’re a movie buff. You like Woody Allen, don’t you?’
‘Not everything, but some, yeah.’
‘So don’t you remember, in Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex?’
Branson frowned. Then he nodded. ‘Yeah! Someone asked him if sex was dirty. And he replied, “Only if it’s done right!”’
Grace smiled, then tried to prise a bit of bacon free from between two of his teeth.
Branson lowered his chin onto his folded arms. ‘Ari and me, we used to do it right, once. It goes; that’s the bummer. You have kids, and it goes.’ He raised a warning finger. ‘Don’t let it go – despite your age!’
‘Thanks for the advice!’ Grace looked at his watch. ‘Okay, two minutes,’ he said.
71
Grace began the 8.30 a.m. briefing by launching straight into the hypothesis that had been churning in his mind all night. ‘Okay, team, Gavin Daly’s son Lucas went to Marbella and, according to the airline’s passenger list, he was accompanied by a character named Augustine Krasniki. Our Interpol sources tell us Krasniki has a string of convictions for assault back in his native Albania. In one of them, he gouged both eyeballs out of a male victim who had defaulted on a debt, leaving him permanently blind. But thanks to our bleeding heart liberal European laws, we have to let this monster in and give him money and free health treatment. Our same Interpol sources tell us that two people were found dead on Sunday morning – Anthony Macario and Kenneth Barnes.’ He looked at Annalise Vineer. ‘You have some information about them, I believe?’
The indexer looked down at her notes. ‘Yes, sir. Both of them were employed as yacht crew by Eamonn Pollock, on his boat Contented, which is permanently berthed in Puerto Banus. We know that Pollock has a record for handling stolen watches and clocks. Macario has a string of previous convictions for aggravated burglary, as well as one, seventeen years ago in Manchester, for Class A drug dealing. Ken Barnes is two years free of his licence for ten years for armed robbery on a building society branch in Worthing. He took a hostage – a twenty-year-old woman – who he threatened to kill. I don’t think you could find a nicer couple of guys, sir.’
There was a titter of laughter.
‘So no great loss then,’ Norman Potting said.
Ignoring the DS, Grace thanked Vineer, then looked down at the notes that his assistant had prepared for this meeting. ‘I think Lucas Daly went to Marbella to attempt to recover his father’s highly valuable Patek Philippe watch. The time of death of these two people found in Puerto Banus harbour coincides with his visit.’