When William eventually became the commissioner, Jackie wondered if he would even remember her name.
William stuck to the middle lane and kept a steady speed so as not to wake her. It wasn’t long before his mind drifted back to Beth. How long would she tolerate a boyfriend who was so unreliable? He would call her the moment they arrived in Barnstaple and explain why he wouldn’t be joining her for supper.
Old silver, a missing Rembrandt, and how to get into Faulkner’s house and meet his wife continued to occupy his mind, although Beth was continually trying to butt in.
The moment William turned off the motorway, Jackie woke up and immediately began to check the map on her lap. ‘Head for the town center,’ she said, as if she’d never been asleep. ‘It will be a left turn for the street Carter lives in. I’ll warn you in good time.’
After a couple more miles Jackie said, ‘Take the next turning on the left, and slow down when you pass number ninety-one. Then first right, and make sure you park well out of sight.’
Jackie took a close look at the modern semidetached house with its pocket-handkerchief garden as they passed number 91 Mulberry Avenue, but it wasn’t the house that caught her attention. William turned right and parked behind a large van.
Jackie got out of the car, stretched her arms, and scanned the horizon. ‘Do you see what I see?’ she said.
William looked in the direction she was pointing. ‘Do you mean that large house up on the hill?’
‘The Romans would have occupied that position and built a fortress so they could keep a close eye on their enemies.’
‘But it’s a long way away.’
‘True, but it has a panoramic view of the town, including Carter’s house. But as we’re not Romans let’s hope it’s a hotel,’ Jackie said as she climbed back into the car.
William kept the building in sight as he wound his way slowly up the hill until he spotted a sign announcing SEA VIEW HOTEL, with an arrow pointing up a long drive.
‘All we need now is for the room with that big bay window at the front to be available for the next few days,’ said Jackie. ‘You do the talking. I’ll try and look meek.’
‘That will be a first,’ muttered William as he parked the car.
‘Good afternoon,’ said the young woman at the reception desk. ‘How can I help you?’
‘We were wondering if the room overlooking the bay was free,’ said William.
‘The Queen Anne suite? Let me check, sir.’ She took a moment to look at the register, before saying, ‘Yes, but only for a couple of nights. The room’s already booked for Wednesday.’
‘How much?’ asked William.
‘Thirty pounds a night, breakfast included.’
William hesitated. ‘We’ll take it,’ said Jackie, and whispered, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith,’ before he signed the register.
‘The porter will take the bags up to your room, Mr. Smith,’ the receptionist said, handing him a key.
William wondered how many Mr. and Mrs. Smiths had occupied the Queen Anne suite over the years. Certainly none to do what he and Jackie had in mind.
They took the lift to the top floor, where they found the porter already standing by an open door carrying their bags.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’ he asked after showing them the room.
‘No, thank you,’ said William, handing him 50p that he was certain Mrs. Walters wouldn’t be reimbursing.
By the time the porter had closed the door, Jackie was already looking out of the window through a pair of binoculars.
‘A professional hitman couldn’t ask for a better sight line,’ she said as she focused in on Carter’s front room.
‘Isn’t Lamont going to kick up a fuss about the cost of a suite?’
‘Only if we go back to London empty-handed.’
‘I’ll sleep on the couch,’ said William, looking enviously at the double bed.
‘No one’s going to sleep on the couch,’ said Jackie. ‘We’ll work in shifts, night and day, so we can both get some kip, while never letting Carter out of our sight. Now, you keep your eye on the house while I go and report to the local nick and let them know what we’re up to. And don’t eat all the biscuits, because we won’t be ordering room service.’
William settled into a comfortable chair and focused the binoculars on Carter’s house. He could just make out the number plate of a Volvo parked in the drive, and made a note of it. He shifted his attention to a large shed in the corner of the garden, then back to the house, where he spotted someone in the front room. A solitary figure, whom he assumed must be Carter, was sitting by the fire reading a newspaper. A woman entered the room and began vacuuming. Was she Angie? After he’d read the back page, Carter folded the newspaper, stood up, poked the fire, and left the room. A few moments later the front door opened, and he crossed the lawn, unlocked the shed door, and went inside. Once again, William lost sight of him.
William swung quickly around when the door behind him opened. He knew it couldn’t be Jackie.
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ said a maid. ‘Would you like me to make up the room?’
‘No, thank you,’ said William, who quickly stood up, making sure the binoculars were out of sight. When the door closed, he disobeyed Jackie’s orders and began to nibble on a biscuit, before returning to his post. He turned his attention back to the shed and could just make out what looked like a workbench, and a crouched figure working on something, but on what?
About an hour later, Carter emerged from the shed and made his way back into the house. He’d only been inside for a few moments before he reappeared in the front room and once again settled down in the armchair.
William was beginning to understand what Jackie had meant when she’d said there would be endless hours of tedium, with little to show for it. He’d only spent a couple of hours keeping an eye on Carter and he was already bored. When Carter dozed off in his armchair, William felt like doing the same.
The door behind him opened a second time and he turned round to see Jackie, holding a carrier bag.
‘Seen anything worth reporting?’ she asked, as she stared at a plate of biscuit crumbs.
‘Carter left the house to go into his shed, and spent an hour there. I think he was working on something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.’
‘Then it will be our job to find out tomorrow. I’ve briefed the local intelligence officer on what we’re up to. Good lad, if a little sensitive about the Met straying onto his patch without warning. He’s well aware of Carter’s past record in fact, he’s a pro now. But to date he’s given him no trouble. A model citizen in fact. He does a bit of engraving for one or two of the local schools and sports clubs, although he claims he’s retired.’
‘“Criminals never retire,”’ said William, ‘“they just get more cunning.”’
‘The Hawk?’
‘No, Fred Yates. So, are you going to take over up here, while I go down and have a closer look?’
‘Sure. If Carter comes out of the house, follow him. But if he drops into his local, don’t join him. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.’
‘And when do you want me to come back?’
‘Around midnight, then you can catch some sleep while I do the night shift. I left some sandwiches in the car for you, but now I wish I’d eaten them,’ said Jackie, once again glaring at the biscuit crumbs.
‘Sorry,’ said William. ‘I’m sure there must be something in the fridge.’
‘Which will only be added to our bill, and I don’t have to remind you, detective constable, that we’re not on holiday.’
William slipped out of the room, drove back into town, and parked between two cars on the far side of Mulberry Avenue, from where he had a clear view of the house. Just after eleven, he saw the light on the ground floor go off and moments later an upstairs light was switched on. Twenty minutes later the house was in complete darkness.