‘What about the flat in Eaton Square?’ asked Beth as they reached the Serpentine.
‘The lease runs out in a couple of months, but I intend to renew it.’
‘How can you afford to do that if Miles has run off with everything?’
‘Because my dear husband overlooked a minor detail when he burnt down our country home and thought he’d left me penniless.’
‘I’m lost,’ said Beth as Christina took over pushing the pram down Rotten Row.
‘My estate agent called last week to tell me the local council has granted planning permission to build a dozen houses on the site. He’s already had an offer of half a million pounds for the land, and they haven’t even put it on the market yet.’
‘Well, that should take care of your immediate problems.’
‘Possibly. But I won’t be celebrating until Miles is locked back up, preferably in solitary, and half of the paintings are hanging in my apartment.’
‘Not to mention the Vermeer he stole from the Fitzmolean,’ said Beth. She glanced at her watch when they reached Albert Crescent.
‘Make sure you tell William not to waste his time looking for Miles,’ said Christina as they parted. ‘Concentrate on the paintings. Find them, and you can be sure he won’t be far away.’
Beth brought the pram to a sudden halt, causing Artemisia to burst out crying. Peter joined in moments later. Was that the sentence William had been looking for, which Christina might well later regret?
‘William?’
William looked up to see DS Summers pushing his way through the swing doors of the canteen.
‘Jerry? What are you doing here?’ he asked, knowing only too well.
‘Same as you, I presume. I’m giving a talk on what it’s like being a humble copper in the sticks, rather than a high-flyer at Scotland Yard.’
‘Hardly. I’m giving an introductory talk on drugs, to a lot of raw recruits who are just out of school and wouldn’t know a drug if they saw one.’
William picked up a briefcase and placed it on the table in front of him. He opened it to reveal a dozen small plastic boxes containing samples of every illegal drug from heroin to Ecstasy tablets.
‘Impressive,’ said Summers, helping himself to a cup of tea. ‘But not as impressive as finally catching up with that villain Rashidi and putting him behind bars. I hope you’ve got enough evidence to nail him, because I’m told he’s as slippery as an eel, and you can be sure he’ll employ the best silk money can buy.’
‘You know him?’ asked William.
‘Only by reputation. But a couple of his lowlife scum work Romford and Barking. We’ve noticed that their supply chain has dried up recently, thanks to you and Superintendent Lamont.’
‘How do you know Lamont?’
‘He was my first gaffer when I began life on the beat in Romford. He was transferred to the Yard a couple of years later, so I haven’t come across him since. How is the old bastard?’
‘He took early retirement, so I haven’t seen him recently.’
‘Why would he do that?’ said Summers, almost to himself. ‘He can’t have been more than a year or so away from qualifying for a full pension.’ He dropped a couple of sugar lumps into his tea before asking, ‘So what’s it like being at the sharp end?’
‘I spend half my time filling in forms and arresting junkies who should be in hospital, not prison. But if you come across the new supplier for Romford, please let me know.’
‘You should keep an eye on the Payne family,’ said DS Summers. ‘They control the drugs supply on my patch, but they’re not big enough to take over Rashidi’s empire. In fact, they’ll be praying he gets off. Because without the shark, the minnows don’t get fed.’
William made a written note of something he already knew, and a mental note that Summers hadn’t mentioned the Turner family.
‘And congratulations,’ said Summers, selecting a chocolate biscuit. ‘I hear you’re the first of our intake to be made up to detective inspector. Not that anyone will be surprised.’
‘Promotion has its disadvantages,’ said William with a sigh that he hoped wasn’t too exaggerated.
‘Like what?’ asked Summers, rising to the bait.
‘Not much overtime payment for inspectors, though we’re still expected to put in the same hours.’
‘That’s part of the deal if you want to join the officer class,’ said Summers. ‘Which is one of the many reasons I’m happy to remain in the ranks. Are you married?’
‘Yes, and we have twins, so despite the promotion, we’re only just about making ends meet,’ said William, hoping to tempt him into an indiscretion.
‘That’s why I’m still a bachelor,’ said Summers. ‘Better get going. I’m on in five minutes,’ he added, finishing his tea before grabbing the last chocolate biscuit. ‘If I hear on the grapevine who the new supplier is, I’ll give you a bell.’
The two men shook hands, before Jerry left for the classroom. William wasn’t sure if the supposedly coincidental meeting had served any useful purpose. The Hawk had arranged for both of them to address the new intake at Hendon so that bumping into each other wouldn’t look too obvious. But even then, he’d had to sit in the canteen drinking cold tea for over an hour before Summers had finally appeared, and he wasn’t convinced he’d ever hear from him again.
The Hawk had already allocated DS Paul Adaja and PC Nicky Bailey, a raw recent recruit, to watch Summers around the clock. Bailey was patrolling the streets of Romford as a constable, while Adaja remained undercover. Back at the yard, DS Jackie Roycroft continued to work closely with William, alongside another recruit to the team, DC Rebecca Pankhurst, who kept them all on their toes.
The Hawk wanted to know who Summers’s friends were, who he met up with after work, whether there were any unexplained entries on his crime sheets. Did he have an informer? Who was his latest girlfriend? Was she a WPC?
Adaja and Bailey had been able to answer some of these questions within days, but others remained a mystery.
Summers may have been a bachelor, but when they swapped stories in the canteen PC Bailey had reported that there was no shortage of WPCs who were happy to succumb to the young detective’s charms. She also told William about Summers’s impressive record as a thief catcher, and the fact that his arrest record was second to none. Could they be investigating the wrong man?
William wrote his report on the Summers meeting during the Tube journey back to Victoria, and would leave it on the commander’s desk before he went home.
The Hawk had said just plant the seed. ‘Because if he thinks you might be in financial trouble, he could be back in touch sooner than you think.’
Unlikely, thought William, as it was Jerry Summers who’d originally come up with the nickname Choirboy when they were both at Hendon.
‘Detective Superintendent Lamont?’
‘Who wants to know?’
‘DS Jerry Summers, sir. You won’t remember me, but—’
‘Slippery Summers,’ said Lamont, laughing. ‘How could I forget? Thanks to your undercover work, we put most of the Payne gang away. So why the call?’
‘I heard you’d taken early retirement, sir.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘DI Warwick. We were both speaking to the new recruits at Hendon last week.’
‘Were you indeed? And what else did that little prick have to say?’
‘Not a lot. In fact, he clammed up when I told him you were my first gaffer.’
‘You still haven’t answered my question.’
‘I was wondering if you’d already got another job, because you never struck me as the retiring type.’
‘I’ve got a couple of irons in the fire,’ said Lamont, ‘but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to offers.’