‘Why should that be a problem?’
‘You haven’t exactly proved reliable in the past,’ Beth reminded her sharply.
Christina looked suitably chastened before saying quietly, ‘Would it help if I were to give you a hundred thousand in advance?’
Beth refused to believe the offer was real, but somehow managed, ‘What would you expect in return?’
‘Twenty-five per cent of the profits.’
‘There has to be a catch,’ said Beth, still not convinced.
‘There is,’ replied Christina, opening her handbag. She took out her cheque book and wrote a cheque for £100,000, made out to Beth Warwick. ‘You’ll give me a third chance — or is it a fourth? — to prove whose side I’m on.’
Beth stared at the noughts, but was distracted when Christina began to remove the cakes from the stand, before wrapping them up in her napkin one by one.
‘What are you doing?’ said Beth, horrified.
‘You can share these with the children when you get home,’ said Christina, handing her the napkin.
‘But how do the management feel about that?’
‘They’ve got used to it,’ said Christina as she signalled to a waiter for the bill.
The prisoner didn’t take his eyes off the young woman who was heading slowly towards him.
It wasn’t until Miles had seen a photo of Mai Ling that he’d considered the possibility she might be the daughter of his rival art collector, Mr Lee, a man who had outbid him several times in the past. He had therefore agreed to see her.
Mai Ling took the seat on the other side of the table. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Faulkner,’ she said as if she was joining him for tea at the Savoy rather than visiting him in a category A prison, with guards, not waiters scattered around the tables.
Faulkner nodded.
‘My father has been offered your art collection for one hundred million dollars, and wanted to be sure the seller had your blessing,’ said Mai Ling. Like her father, she didn’t deal in small talk.
It was some time before Miles recovered enough to reply. ‘Blessing isn’t the word I would have chosen. As I know your father to be a man of few words, you can tell him, never. But I would like to know who it was claiming to represent me?’
‘My father thought you might ask that question and, if you did, instructed me not to answer it.’
Miles accepted that bribery wouldn’t work with this young woman, and even the suggestion of a threat would have been counter-productive. He simply said, ‘Was it Booth Watson, or my ex-wife?’
Mai Ling rose from her place, turned her back on him and walked away without once looking back.
The duty officer looked surprised when Mr Faulkner’s guest left the visitors’ room only a few minutes after she’d booked in, and the lip-readers on the balcony were even more puzzled.
Faulkner had only one thought on his mind as he made his way back to his cell. His next visitor would have to be ex-superintendent Lamont.
When Beth walked in the front door of their home, having had tea with Christina, she heard the phone ringing in the hall. She grabbed it, and was surprised to be greeted by a familiar voice she hadn’t heard for some time.
‘James,’ said Beth, ‘how lovely to hear from you.’
Beth happily recalled first meeting James aboard the SS Alden when they were on holiday. They had both liked the precocious and bright young American who had helped William to solve the murder of his grandfather. She assumed he would want to have a word with William.
‘I’m afraid William’s not at home,’ Beth said. ‘But I’m expecting him—’
‘It’s not William I wanted to speak to,’ said James. ‘I’ve got a problem I’m not sure how to deal with, and I think you’d be the ideal person to advise me.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘In William’s latest letter,’ said James, ‘he wrote to explain why you’d left the Fitzmolean, which I was sad to hear, but he also told me you’d started your own business.’
‘Which is still in its infancy and I’m afraid works on a limited budget,’ said Beth. ‘But if I can help in any way, I’d be delighted to do so.’
‘Do you specialize in anything in particular?’
‘We represent buyers and sellers of fine art, and I occasionally buy works myself if I spot something I think I can turn quickly. But I repeat, my budget is limited.’
‘But your brain isn’t, and that’s what I need.’
‘It’s clear you’ve inherited your grandfather’s charm,’ teased Beth.
‘That’s not the only thing I’ve inherited,’ said James, ‘which is why I need to seek your advice.’
‘Sounds intriguing,’ said Beth.
‘You’re right about that,’ said James. ‘But it’s also a little too sensitive to discuss over the phone, so I was thinking of coming to London so I could brief you in person.’
‘Then you must stay with us,’ said Beth. ‘Though I have to warn you the spare room is about the size of a below-deck cabin on a Buchanan cruise liner.’
‘Couldn’t be better because it’s a deckhand you’re dealing with.’
‘When were you thinking of coming?’
‘Next Monday.’
‘Then that’s something else you’ve inherited from your grandfather, James. You don’t hang about.’
Chapter 24
‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ asked Beth as William parked the car on the far side of the cricket ground.
‘To start with, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, so there must be a fair chance we’ll get in a full day’s play.’
‘I can’t think of a more exciting way of spending a Sunday afternoon than having to watch a cricket match for five hours.’
‘Be thankful it’s not a test match that can last for five days,’ said William. He got out of the car and opened the back door, releasing three caged children.
‘Daddy,’ said Artemisia, grabbing his trouser leg. ‘Can we have an ice cream?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Beth firmly. ‘You’ve only just had lunch. So you’ll have to wait until the tea interval.’
‘I told you Mum would say that,’ said Peter, who left them and ran off to watch the players warming up in the nets.
‘Ah, I spot a cloud,’ said William as they walked around the boundary.
Beth was puzzled, because the sky was clear with the sun beating down on a contented crowd. Then she saw Christina, sitting on her own.
‘Why don’t you grab the deckchair next to her,’ said William. ‘Give you the chance to find out what she’s been up to recently — no good, I predict.’
‘Do you ever stop thinking like a policeman?’ Beth sighed.
‘Not while she’s sitting there like a praying mantis, because I can’t believe she’s come to watch the cricket.’
‘The cricketers, perhaps,’ said Beth, when she spotted Paul chatting to Christina.
‘And that’s never going to happen,’ said William. He looked around the ground until his eyes settled on Ross and Jackie, who were sitting next to each other, deep in conversation.
‘Whose idea was this?’ asked Jackie as she looked around the ground to see that almost every deckchair had been taken, while others sat on the grass.
‘Choirboy’s of course,’ said Ross. ‘He felt there was a schism between the Royalty Protection officers and uniformed branch.’
‘Not helped by the fact that a Royalty Protection officer can remain working for their principal for many years, while officers protecting cabinet ministers usually have a shelf life of about three or four years, less than the average football manager.’
‘That’s why the Super thought a cricket match might break down some of the barriers,’ said Ross.