The Puppet Show (Washington Poe)

Poe breathed out. It was nice finally to talk to someone who knew what he was on about.

Nolan said, ‘I’ll make some calls and see what I can find out. I still keep in touch with a few folk in the trade so I might be able to point you towards someone who could help.’

‘Appreciate it,’ Poe said. He wrote his name and number on the same piece of paper the serial number was on and stood to shake Nolan’s hand.

‘I’ll be in touch, Sergeant Poe,’ Nolan said.

His wife showed them to the door. ‘That’ll keep him busy for the afternoon anyway. He’s been a bit lost since he retired.’

‘Now what?’ Bradshaw asked when they were back in his car.

‘We wait,’ Poe replied.

They didn’t have to wait long. Nolan rang back within two hours.

‘I think I have something for you, Sergeant Poe,’ he said.

Nolan had begun by ringing people who’d had similar shops to him: jewellery businesses and small chains. Most of them didn’t sell high-end watches; it was a lot of money to tie up in stock that might not sell, and the kind of thing they did sell was mostly bespoke anyway. They made their jewellery from scratch and had little interest in anything else.

‘Even that’s a dying art, though,’ he moaned. ‘These days it’s all designed on a computer and then cut with a pre-programmed laser. Flawless results and I suppose it is progress. Makes the end product a bit soulless if you ask me, though.’

Poe wanted to speed him up but knew better than to say anything.

‘Anyway, a friend of mine remembered a dealer in new and antique watches who would visit the various shops and leave leaflets and information for customers. He worked for all the major watch manufacturers. The shop would facilitate the purchase and take a cut. That way they could call themselves official suppliers without having to buy any.’

Made sense, Poe thought. It also avoided the smash-and-grab raids thirty grand watches attracted.

‘The dealer’s called Alastair Ferguson and he’s retired.’

‘And?’

‘And I’ve just finished speaking to him. He’s on his way over here now. He’s coming from Edinburgh, though, so it’ll be another couple of hours. If you and Miss Bradshaw can come back we can have a cup of tea while we wait.’

‘And he knows something, does he?’

‘Well, he didn’t have records for the serial number to hand but he thinks he knows the watch in question.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘Because as soon as I mentioned the Breitling, he said he’d been waiting for this call for twenty-six years . . .’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alastair Ferguson spoke with a strong Scottish accent. He was small and immaculately attired in a three-piece suit, obviously from the generation who still believed in dressing up for appointments. He took a dram of whisky from Nolan, then settled in to tell them what he knew.

A shop that no longer traded had sold the watch he suspected they were following. They had two premises, both in Keswick. One sold costume jewellery to tourists and the other was a more traditional shop.

The owner had been asked to source a Breitling for a customer and he’d had a healthy budget. Alastair Ferguson had driven down from Edinburgh to meet him with a strongbox full of watches and hopefully to secure a nice fat commission.

‘Do you remember who the customer was?’ Poe asked.

Ferguson nodded. ‘The Bishop of Carlisle.’

For several moments no one said anything. This is going to get ‘political’, Poe thought.

Ferguson added, ‘It wasn’t for him, though, and it was all above board. He paid with a church cheque and made sure he had a signed receipt.’

‘Do you know who it was for?’ Poe asked.