“Certainly not,” said Agnew firmly. “I accept that she was not involved in a criminal act, but she was still guilty of either gross negligence or stupidity, and we both know, Mr. Clifton, that she isn’t stupid.”
“But it was me who picked up the wrong picture.”
“And it was she who allowed you to take it off the premises.”
Sebastian frowned. “Mr. Rossindale, can I come back to the police station with you? I’m meant to be taking Samantha out to dinner this evening.”
“I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t.”
“Thank you for your help, Arnold,” said Sebastian, shaking the QC by the hand. Turning to Cedric, he added, “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble, sir.”
“Just be sure that you’re back in the office by seven tomorrow morning, as you’ll remember it’s a rather important day for all of us. And I must say, Seb, you could have picked a better week to steal a Raphael.”
Everyone laughed except Mr. Agnew, who was still clutching the masterpiece. He placed it back in the stock room, double-locked the door and led them all upstairs. “My thanks, detective inspector,” he said as Rossindale was leaving the gallery.
“My pleasure, sir. I’m glad this one worked out for the best.”
When Sebastian climbed into the back of the police car, Detective Inspector Rossindale said, “I’ll tell you why I was so convinced you’d stolen the painting, young man. Your girlfriend took the blame, which usually means they’re protecting someone.”
“I’m not sure she’ll be my girlfriend any longer after what I’ve put her through.”
“I’ll get her released as quickly as possible,” said Rossindale. “Just the usual paperwork,” he added with a sigh as the car drew up outside Savile Row station. Sebastian followed the policemen into the building.
“Take Mr. Clifton down to the cells while I deal with the paperwork.”
The young sergeant led Sebastian down a flight of steps, unlocked a cell door and stood aside to allow him to go in. Samantha was hunched up on the end of a thin mattress, her knees tucked under her chin.
“Seb! Have they arrested you as well?”
“No,” he said, taking her in his arms for the first time. “I don’t think they’d allow us to be in the same cell if they thought we were London’s answer to Bonnie and Clyde. Once Mr. Agnew found Jessica’s painting in the stock room, he accepted that I’d just picked up the wrong package and dropped all the charges. But I’m afraid you’ve lost your job, and it was my fault.”
“I can’t blame him,” said Samantha. “I should have been concentrating, not flirting. But I’m beginning to wonder just how far you’ll go to avoid taking me to dinner.” Sebastian released her, looked into her eyes and then gently kissed her.
“They say a girl always remembers the first kiss with a man she’s fallen in love with, and I must admit it’s going to be quite difficult to forget this one,” she said as the cell door swung open.
“You’re free to go now, miss,” said the young sergeant. “Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
“Not your fault,” said Samantha. The sergeant led them upstairs and held the front door of the station open.
Sebastian walked out on to the street and took Samantha’s hand, just as a dark blue Cadillac came to a halt in front of the building.
“Oh, hell,” said Samantha. “I forgot. The police allowed me to make one call and I phoned the embassy. They told me my parents were at the opera, but that they’d get them out in the interval. Oh, hell,” she repeated as Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan stepped out of the car.
“So what’s all this about, Samantha?” said Mr. Sullivan after he’d kissed her on the cheek. “Your mothe
r and I have been desperately worried.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sam, “it’s all been a dreadful misunderstanding.”
“That’s a relief,” said her mother and, looking across at the man who was holding her daughter’s hand, asked, “And who is this?”
“Oh, this is Sebastian Clifton. He’s the man I’m going to marry.”
33
Friday morning
“YOU WERE RIGHT. Diego will be taking the sleeper from King’s Cross this evening, and joining his father and Luis at Glenleven Lodge tomorrow morning.”