Hidden in Plain Sight (Detective William Warwick 2)

“You have to appreciate, Mr. Booth Watson,” said Lamont, “that we were acting in good faith on information received.”

“Clearly from an unreliable source, which I think you’ll agree, superintendent, is becoming a hallmark of your investigations when dealing with my client.”

Lamont tried to remain calm.

William looked up the number in his pocket diary and began to dial. He started to pray, and to his relief, the call was answered a few moments later.

“Who’s this?” a voice demanded.

“William Warwick. I apologize for disturbing you at this time of night, Christina, but an emergency has arisen and I have a feeling you’re the one person who might be able to help.”

“You’re lucky to catch me, William. I’ve only just walked in after enjoying a rather lengthy getting-to-know-you dinner. Let me guess, it has to be Miles who’s causing you so much trouble. How can I help?”

William hurriedly explained the problem he was up against, and when she supplied him with the answer, he felt a complete fool, because it had been staring him in the face the whole evening.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll give you a call in the morning and let you know how it all worked out.”

“Not too early,” said Christina. “My dinner companion is considerably younger than I am.”

William laughed for the first time that evening. “Have a good time,” he said before replacing the receiver. He took a moment to compose his thoughts, and was about to leave the room when he once again spotted the rolled-up twenty-pound note on the desk, which now made him feel more confident. He picked it up and left Faulkner’s study to head back down the corridor toward the hall.

“Well, look who’s rejoined us,” said Booth Watson as William reappeared. “None other than our newly appointed sergeant—I do apologize, detective sergeant. Not for much longer, I suspect.” Only Faulkner laughed.

“Well, detective sergeant,” said Booth Watson, glancing dismissively at the twenty-pound note William was holding. “Apprehended one of the Great Train Robbers, have we?”

“Far better,” said William without explanation, as he placed the note in a plastic bag and labeled it Evidence. He then strolled slowly over to the bust of Faulkner. “Only someone with an oversized ego would allow such a grotesque object to be seen in a house full of masterpieces,” he said, turning to Faulkner.

“I hope you have another job lined up, detective sergeant,” said Booth Watson, “because I have a feeling your days as a police officer are numbered.”

“No, I haven’t,” William replied. “But it shouldn’t be too difficult to get a job identifying fake works of art.” He lifted the bust off its stand.

“Put that down!” yelled Faulkner. “It’s extremely rare!”

“Unique, I would hope,” said William. “But if that’s what you want, Mr. Faulkner, I’m only too happy to oblige.” William allowed the bust to slip from his fingers and crash onto the marble floor, where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Everyone stared, not at what was left of the broken statue, but at a dozen small paper wraps, each containing a white substance, that lay strewn across the floor.

The dogs’ tails began to wag excitedly, while the photographers immediately set about their task. Once they’d finished, a dozen officers began to gather up the evidence.

“I suspect it doesn’t get any purer than this,” said a senior drugs officer, holding up one of the bags. “I’ll get this lot back to the lab for testing, superintendent, and have a report on your desk first thing on Monday morning.”

Lamont stepped forward, thrust Faulkner’s arms behind his back, and handcuffed him. “I’ve been looking forward to this for some time, Mr. Faulkner,” he said. Booth Watson made a note. “I’ll leave you to do the honors, DS Warwick.”

William walked up to Faulkner and stood directly in front of him. He was so nervous he nearly forgot the words of the caution.

“Miles Faulkner, I am arresting you on suspicion of being in possession of a Class A substance with an intent to supply. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be given in evidence.”

He accompanied the prisoner out of the house, and bundled him into the back of a waiting squad car. He couldn’t resist waving good-bye as he was driven away.

Lamont picked up the phone in the hall and began dialing. “I think I’ll take your advice, Mr. Booth Watson,” he said with a smile, “and give Commander Hawksby a call to tell him about my spectacular triumph.”

14

When William and DC Adaja entered the small interview room in the basement of Scotland Yard, they found Adrian Heath already seated on the other side of the table. He looked anxious, and displayed none of his usual self-confidence.

“Is Faulkner safely out of the way?” were his first words, even before the two police officers had sat down.

“For the time being, yes,” said William. “He’s currently locked up in a local police station, but will be applying for bail on Monday afternoon, and the magistrate may well release him from custody, which means he could be out there looking for you long before the trial takes place.”