‘And what are we looking for?’ asked William, as he’d never taken part in a stake-out before.
‘Visitors, especially those who obviously aren’t locals. Not that I think Mr Big is likely to come down to Barnstaple just to please us. But we’ll need to take photos of everyone who goes in or out of the house, and when we get back to the Yard we’ll check to see if they match up with anyone in our rogues’ gallery.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Number plates of every car parked near the house, or any suspicious-looking vehicles. We can check them out on the police national computer later. And don’t assume the person we’re looking for will park right outside Carter’s front door. Police work isn’t that convenient.’
‘Do we split up or work as a pair?’
‘That will depend on whether we can watch the house from the car without being spotted. Either way, it will be hours of patient surveillance, with no certainty of anything to show for it.’
‘Do you think we’ll find out what he’s up to?’
‘Unlikely,’ said Jackie. ‘But you can bet there’ll be a surprise or two, when we’ll have to think on our feet.’
‘Who decides when we go back to London?’
‘Lamont.’
‘Then we could be stuck down there forever.’
Jackie laughed. ‘I don’t think so. Don’t forget he expects you to accompany him when he visits Pentonville to interview Eddie Leigh. And you’ve also got to take the copy of the Rembrandt back to Faulkner’s home in the country.’
They drove on for some time in companionable silence.
‘Does Lamont have any family?’
‘He’s a triple disaster,’ said Jackie. ‘Three ex-wives, and five children. His first three marriages lasted six years, three years and one year, and I’m not sure the latest will survive for much longer. God knows how he can afford the alimony. It would be cheaper to take the occasional lover, like the rest of us.’
William laughed. ‘What about the Hawk?’
‘Married to Josephine for over thirty years. Three grown-up daughters, who’ve got him wound round their little fingers.’
‘I’d like to see that,’ said William. ‘But then you have a daughter,’ he said, hoping Jackie was feeling relaxed enough to exchange confidences, but she didn’t respond. He glanced to his left to see that she had fallen asleep. Always catch some kip whenever possible, wherever possible, she’d advised him often enough.
Jackie hadn’t wanted to answer any more questions, so she closed her eyes. She had known within days of William joining the team that he was destined for higher things. Far higher than she could ever hope for.
Reporting an inspector who’d placed a hand on her thigh when she was a young constable hadn’t improved her chances of promotion. And taking six months off after her daughter was born only ensured that when she returned to work she found herself once again back on the beat. It hadn’t deterred her.
However, when Ms Roycroft was named as co-respondent in a senior officer’s divorce, the local commander suggested that perhaps the time had come for her to consider early retirement. She didn’t point out that she was only thirty-four, and had no intention of giving up the job she loved, well aware they couldn’t sack her. She clung on, but accepted that detective sergeant was probably the highest rank she was likely to attain.
William was different. He may have been naive and a little too smooth, but after she’d introduced him to the real world, where criminals didn’t say please and thank you, she was sure he would progress quickly through the ranks. But she’d still have to watch his back whenever he came across less capable colleagues who would be only too happy to let him carry the can for their mistakes and, being a public schoolboy, he wouldn’t sneak.
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 centre,’ 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 semi-detached house with its pocket-handkerchief garden as they passed No. 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?’