‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And Reg, are you still listening in on Leigh’s telephone conversations?’
‘Yes. Every Thursday evening, six o’clock, and always to his wife.’
‘Any further mention of the Picasso?’ asked William.
‘Not a dicky bird,’ said Reg.
‘Of course not,’ said Lamont. ‘Leigh wouldn’t risk repeating the message twice, so the Hawk will have to decide if that is enough for us to mount a full operation.’
‘I would,’ said William.
‘You haven’t got his job yet, laddie.’
The first thing William did after they’d returned to Scotland Yard was to look up a number in the S — Z telephone directory.
‘This is Detective Constable Warwick,’ he told the girl who answered the phone. ‘Can you tell me if an Edward Leigh was ever a student at the Slade? It would probably have been around the early 1960s.’
‘Give me a moment, Mr. Warwick, and I’ll look up the name.’ A few minutes later she came back on the line. ‘Yes, he graduated with honors in 1962. In fact, he won the founder’s prize that year, and his one-man show was a sellout.’
‘Thank you, that’s most helpful.’ William put the phone down, and smiled after he checked another file that confirmed Faulkner had attended the Slade between 1960 and 1963. Fred Yates had taught him never to believe in coincidences.
William spent the next hour writing up his report on the visit to Pentonville. After putting it on Lamont’s desk, he checked his watch. Although it was only 5:30, he felt he could leave before the light under the Hawk’s door was switched off.
He grabbed his coat and was about to slink out when Jackie said, ‘Have a good weekend. You’ve earned it.’
‘Thanks,’ said William, who couldn’t wait to see Beth, and tell her there was just a possibility she might be reunited with the other man in her life.
Back at his room in Trenchard House, he showered and changed into more casual clothes. He was looking forward to a weekend of debauchery. Well, his idea of debauchery — a meal at Elena’s, a couple of glasses of red wine, a run around Hyde Park in the morning, and the latest film in the evening — anything that didn’t have cops in it — and tucked up in bed with Beth by eleven.
He decided to walk to Beth’s so he could pick up some flowers on the way. By the time he reached her front door, he could feel his heartbeat quickening. He knocked twice and a moment later Jez appeared, looked at the flowers, and said, ‘Are those for me?’
‘You wish.’
‘But Beth’s gone away for the weekend.’
‘What? I thought that—’
‘She asked me to apologize. Something came up at the last minute. She’ll call you as soon as she gets back.’
‘Then they are for you,’ said William, thrusting the flowers into his hands.
Jez watched as the forlorn suitor turned around and walked slowly away, shoulders slumped. He closed the door and returned to the sitting room, where he handed the flowers to Beth and said, ‘Don’t you think it’s time you told him the truth?’
18
Beth phoned William at home on Sunday night to apologize, explaining that she’d had to visit a friend in hospital, and she’d been nervous about calling him at work.
‘Of course you can ring if it’s something important enough to deprive me of sleep,’ said William.
‘Can you come to supper tomorrow?’
‘As long as something else doesn’t come up,’ said William, regretting how harsh his words must have sounded the moment he put down the phone.
William was the first to arrive at the office on Monday morning. He sat down at his desk and was about to open one of his case files when the phone rang. He immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line.
‘William, you asked me to let you know as soon as Carter had been granted a license to search for the Patrice,’ said Lieutenant Monti. ‘It was rubber stamped this morning, and posted to his home address. So he should have it by the end of the week.’
‘Thank you, Toni. I’ll tell the boss immediately.’
‘Tell me what?’ said Lamont, who had just walked into the room.
‘Carter’s been granted his exploration license, so he could be on the move within days.’
‘I’ll call the Devon Constabulary and ask them to keep an eye on him. I’ll also warn Jim Travers at BA to keep an eye open, so he can let us know when a booking comes up in Carter’s name. Shouldn’t you be on your way?’
‘On my way, sir?’
‘You’re meant to be at Snaresbrook Crown Court this morning giving evidence. We got a call after you swanned off on Friday afternoon to say that, to everyone’s surprise, Cyril Amhurst put in a plea of not guilty, and the case would be heard this morning. You’d better get going if you don’t want to lose your first case before the judge even opens proceedings.’
William quickly retrieved the Amhurst — Churchill file from his desk drawer, and put his jacket back on.
‘Make sure he goes down for twenty years,’ said Lamont.
‘At least,’ said Jackie, who appeared just as he was heading for the door.
The long tube journey to Snaresbrook gave William a chance to reacquaint himself with the details of the case, but when he reached the last page of the file, he still couldn’t understand why Amhurst was pleading not guilty.
The train pulled into the station just after 9:45, and once William was out on the street he asked a news vendor the way to the Crown Court. He followed the man’s directions and it wasn’t long before he spotted an imposing building looming up in front of him. He sprinted up the steps and pushed his way through the door just before ten o’clock. Checking the court timetable, he saw that The Crown v. Amhurst was scheduled for 10:00 in court five. He ran up another flight of steps to the first floor, where he found a young man dressed in a long black gown and holding a wig pacing around, looking anxious.
‘Are you Mr. Hayes?’ asked William.
‘I am, and I’m hoping you’re Detective Constable Warwick.’ William nodded.
‘The first thing I should tell you,’ said Hayes, ‘is that because Amhurst’s case has come up at such short notice, I could apply for a postponement and get the trial set for a later date.’
‘No, let’s get on with it,’ said William. ‘The damn man hasn’t got a leg to stand on.’
‘I agree, but your evidence may still prove crucial, so I’ll quickly take you through what I consider to be the salient points.’
‘When do you think we’ll be called?’ asked William as they sat down on a bench outside court five.
‘There are a couple of bail applications to be heard, and a request for a liquor license to be dealt with before us, so we should be on around ten thirty.’
By the time Hayes had finished briefing William, he felt even more confident that Amhurst was whistling in the wind, although he did admit to Hayes that this would be the first time he’d given evidence in a trial.
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ said Hayes. ‘I have to leave you now and set up my stall in the court. Just hang about until your name is called.’
William didn’t hang about. He paced up and down the corridor, becoming more nervous as each minute passed. Finally, the court usher appeared from within and announced, ‘Detective Constable Warwick.’
William nervously followed him into the courtroom. He passed the defendant in the dock, and without looking at him, headed straight for the witness box.
The clerk of the court handed William a Bible and he delivered the oath, relieved to hear that his voice sounded more assured than he felt. But when Mr. Hayes rose from his place, what little confidence William possessed had evaporated.