‘Spit it out, DC Pankhurst,’ said the Hawk.
‘When Nicky came down to breakfast on Sunday morning, she was wearing a diamond ring.’
‘Sunday morning?’ repeated the Hawk. ‘But that was five days before they got their hands on the money.’
‘So it’s still possible she wasn’t involved in the raid,’ said Rebecca. ‘However, there’s something else I think you ought to know, sir. The ring Nicky was wearing was a diamond solitaire. If it’s real, it would have cost far more than a detective sergeant earns in a year.’
‘I suspect the ring went missing after a recent burglary when Summers was the arresting officer,’ said William. ‘In which case it shouldn’t be difficult to trace, and we’ll have them both bang to rights.’
‘How can you be sure it was a diamond solitaire?’ asked the Hawk, switching his attention back to DC Pankhurst.
‘It’s not dissimilar to my mother’s engagement ring,’ she said, looking embarrassed.
‘We’ll make a detective of you yet, DC Pankhurst,’ said the commander. ‘But on which finger is PC Bailey wearing the ring?’
Rebecca held up the third finger of her left hand.
‘Poor girl,’ said the Hawk, sounding unusually sympathetic. ‘But we still can’t afford to make a move yet. Any other developments on that front?’
‘Yes,’ said Jackie. ‘Lamont has asked to see me again. We’re having a drink on Saturday night.’
‘What does he want?’ said Paul.
‘After my lapse on the Tube,’ said Rebecca, ‘I expect he wants to find out if he’s being followed.’
‘So what do I tell him?’ asked Jackie.
‘What he wants to hear — no, he isn’t,’ said William.
‘Mind you,’ said the Hawk, ‘there will come a time when I want him to know he’s under surveillance, but not quite yet.’
William smiled, while Jackie looked puzzled, but neither of them asked the obvious question, because they knew they wouldn’t get an answer.
‘If Lamont gives you another brown envelope,’ said the Hawk, ‘we’ll know he still thinks you’re as bent as he is.’
‘Dare I ask how much was in the first one?’ asked Jackie.
‘No idea,’ said William. ‘I handed it straight in to the property store. But I’m looking forward to getting another one.’
Jackie had the grace to smile.
‘You have to understand, Mr Booth Watson, I had no idea my son was a drug dealer. I thought he was the chairman of a small, reputable tea company. When he was arrested, it was as much of a shock to me as it was to my friends that he had been leading a double life.’
Booth Watson steepled his hands as if in prayer but said nothing.
‘I appreciate, Mr Booth Watson, that you succeeded in having him cleared of the most serious charges, but I should tell you that I prayed he would be found guilty, and punished for his sins.’
Booth Watson looked suitably contrite, but still made no attempt to interrupt his client while she was in a confessional mood.
‘I’m sure you will recall my telling you at the time that I was loath to give evidence at the trial, as I would have had to admit I only saw Assem once a week on a Friday afternoon, and then just for a couple of hours.’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘I confess that his death came as a blessed relief.’
Booth Watson bowed his head.
‘Most of my friends have deserted me,’ she continued, ‘so there’s no longer any reason for me to remain in this country. I intend to move back to France as soon as possible. I pray that our Lord will not extend my life on this earth for much longer.’
Booth Watson smiled at his client like a benign spider that had caught a large fly in its web, and had no intention of letting it escape. The last thing he wanted was for Mrs Rashidi to die.
‘With that in mind, I’m asking you to put my affairs in order, so I can return to my native Lyons.’
‘Be assured, madam,’ said Booth Watson, ‘I have been working night and day on your behalf, with that single purpose in mind. But your affairs, I fear, are somewhat complex. However, as time is of the essence, I may have come up with a solution to your problem.’
‘Which is, Mr Booth Watson?’
The benign smile returned, the spider having spun some more threads in its web. ‘You could leave for Lyons whenever you wished, if—’
‘If what?’
‘If you felt able to grant me power of attorney over your affairs in your absence. I would be honoured to represent you to the best of my ability. Of course, I would be only too happy to visit you in Lyons from time to time to keep you up to date.’
‘What would I have to do to make that happen?’
‘If you sign this document, Mrs Rashidi,’ he said, placing two sheets of paper in front of her, ‘your problems will become mine, and you can rest easy in the knowledge that I will always have your best interests at heart.’
He handed his client a pen, and guided her to two pencilled crosses. Mrs Rashidi didn’t spend a great deal of time reading the document before she signed it.
BW waited for the ink to dry before saying, ‘I remain your humble servant, madam,’ while giving her a slight bow.
‘No, no, Mr Booth Watson. It is I who should thank you.’
Nicky came off duty just after four. She had decided the time had come to tell people she was pregnant, as it wouldn’t be much longer before her condition was blindingly obvious. She glanced at her ring and smiled. She intended to take advantage of the three months’ fully paid maternity leave offered to WPCs, after which she would decide whether to return to work or resign. One copper in the family was quite enough, in her opinion.
She let herself into the flat, and wasn’t surprised to find it was in a mess. After all, she’d been away for the weekend. A stack of washing-up had been left in the sink, food still stuck to the plates. Rinsing was clearly not an activity Jerry considered a priority. She opened the kitchen window and set about washing up, hoping she would have completed the job before he came off duty.
Once she’d finished in the kitchen, she turned her attention to the bedroom. The bed was unmade, and Jerry’s silk dressing gown had been left strewn on the floor. Just like James Bond, he’d once told her. She hung it on the back of the door before plumping up the pillows and pulling back the top sheet. She just stood there and thought she was going to be sick when she saw a pair of red lacy knickers in the middle of the bed. They certainly weren’t hers. She collapsed on the floor and burst into tears. Had someone left them there deliberately, knowing she would be certain to find them?
How many times had Jerry sworn blind that he’d turned over a new leaf since he’d met her? I’ve found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, he’d told her often enough. Didn’t the ring mean anything at all? Or was it in part exchange, just like her?
It didn’t take long for Nicky’s tears to turn to anger, as she thought about how many risks she’d taken for him, only to be discarded like an empty wrapper. She wanted him to walk in right now, so she could tell him exactly what she thought of him.
After an hour had passed, and he hadn’t come home, she decided it was time to turn her thoughts into actions.
She got up off the floor, walked slowly back into the kitchen and selected a large pair of scissors from a drawer. She returned to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe to find half a dozen suits, a couple of blazers, three pairs of grey flannel trousers and a dozen silk ties.
She took out the first suit and cut off both sleeves of the jacket. The trousers followed, and by the time she’d finished, they could only have been worn by a schoolboy. The other suits were next in line, then the blazers, followed by the grey trousers, and finally the ties. Even a black bow tie, rarely worn, didn’t escape execution.