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“And I’m devoted to him, but he’ll need an exceptional woman as his partner, and I’m only an assistant curator at the Fitzmolean, who does work from nine to five.”
“Thank goodness one of you is normal,” said Josephine, as she selected a cucumber sandwich.
“But I worry that he’s already married.”
“To the job?” Beth nodded. “Every good copper is, my dear. But if I could go back thirty years, and he asked me again, I’d still marry Constable Jack Hawksby.”
“Can I ask you a personal question, Josephine?”
“Anything.”
“Have you ever considered divorcing your husband?”
“Divorce never. Murder several times.”
* * *
“Have you been invited to the wedding?” asked Lamont.
“Yes. Josephine and I are looking forward to it, although I expect there will be far too many criminal barristers on the guest list who I’ve only ever met while standing in the witness box.”
“And possibly the odd criminal.”
“No,” said Hawksby. “Sir Julian Warwick QC isn’t a man who mixes business with pleasure, so Booth Watson won’t have been invited.”
Lamont chuckled. “Have you met Beth?”
“Only at the Fitzmolean for the unveiling of the Rembrandt. It wasn’t hard to see why William fell for her.”
“Heaven help the poor lass.”
“What makes you say that, Bruce?”
“I’ve been divorced three times, and DC Roycroft once. In fact, you’re the exception that breaks the rule.”
“I have a feeling William will last the course. My only worry is that Beth might try to get him to leave the force.”
“All three of my wives tried,” said Lamont, “and look where that got them. Each time I was promoted, my latest wife left me but not before she’d cleaned out my bank account.”
“I’m pretty sure William won’t be going down that path,” said the Hawk. “However, I’m still relying on you to remove the last vestments of the latent choirboy before I’ll even consider making him a detective inspector.”
“And Adaja?”
“If he can handle the racial prejudice he’s bound to come up against on the street…”
“Not to mention inside this building,” said Lamont. “I realize I’m not exactly blameless myself. When I first joined the force the only thing that was black was the coffee.”
“Did you ever watch The Sweeney?” asked the Hawk.
“Never missed an episode. Saw myself as John Thaw.”
The Hawk smiled. “But did you spot the mistake in last week’s rerun?”
“Remind me.”
“The old Black Marias, DI Regan claimed, were named after a woman who always attended court hearings wearing a black dress. But DC Adaja informs me that in fact the term originates from a woman called Maria who kept an unruly boardinghouse in Boston, which the police had to visit far too regularly.”
“Adaja’s as bad as Warwick when it comes to plying us with useless information,” said Lamont.
