Hidden in Plain Sight (Detective William Warwick 2)

“How can you be sure?” asked William, as they watched a black cab drive slowly into The Boltons.

“Same box of Kleenex on the back shelf.”

“Well spotted,” said William. They continued to watch as Rashidi stepped out of the cab and opened the front gate of No. 24.

“Same hat, gloves, coat, and scarf,” said Paul. “Clearly a man of habit.”

“Which might well turn out to be his downfall,” said William.

The photographer had begun snapping away as soon as Rashidi stepped out of the taxi, although he’d warned William that because he was so well covered up, he didn’t expect the results to be any different from last week.

The door opened before Rashidi had a chance to knock. The same hug, allowing the photographer to zoom in on the left-hand glove, before mother and son disappeared into the house.

William turned on his radio, which connected him straight to the Yard. “All units stand by, stand by, subject one has arrived at the known address,” he announced. “The subject has now entered the house. If last week’s anything to go by, he won’t be coming back out for at least a couple of hours.”

“What’s your back-up looking like?” asked Lamont.

“I’ve got three taxis covering all the exits out of the square, ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“And on the ground?”

“Two plainclothes officers in the back of each cab, detailed to follow the target the moment he gets out of his taxi.”

“Cars?”

“Four unmarked cars stationed in the area between The Boltons and Earls Court, ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“Let me know the minute he reappears.”

“Will do, sir.”

Lamont flicked off his receiver. “Don’t you wish it was the two of us out there giving the orders,” he said, “and not just watching from the sidelines?”

“Of course,” admitted the Hawk, “but don’t tell my wife.”

* * *

“Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk, thank you, Mrs. Hawksby.”

“Please call me Josephine,” she said, handing Beth a cup of tea. “I’ve already given a great deal of thought to our recent telephone conversation.”

“But I didn’t explain why I needed to see you.”

“That wasn’t too difficult to work out. I assumed you wanted to know what it’s been like being married to a policeman for the past thirty years.”

“Was it that obvious?” said Beth.

“Hell on earth, is the simple answer. The late nights, the last-minute cancelations, questions you can never ask, and, worst of all, the fear that one day he might not come home. But it’s helped that I’ve never stopped loving Jack.”

“But there are so many divorces in the force,” said Beth. “Superintendent Lamont for example, and Jackie for another, and that’s just in our department.”

“True. But you will learn to accept the fact that the police are expected to keep the same hours as criminals, although the criminals get longer holidays in more exotic places.” Beth laughed. “It was never going to be a nine-to-five job, and from what Jack tells me, William doesn’t have the problem a lot of coppers suffer from.” Beth put down her cup. “Too much testosterone and too many WPCs.”

“Can you ever be sure?” asked Beth.

“No you can’t, but Jack tells me you’ve found an exceptional young man, who’s clearly devoted to you.”