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William didn’t respond. He still hadn’t told Beth that Christina had been in touch with him again.
“I’m sorry,” Beth whispered, turning back toward William and kissing the jagged red scar that had never quite faded, physically or mentally. “If you hadn’t turned her into a friend, we might never have got the Rembrandt back. Which reminds me, we’ve got a fundraiser at the gallery tomorrow night, and although your attendance isn’t compulsory, I’d like you to come. Not least because some of the older ladies rather fancy you.”
“What about the younger ones?”
“They’ve all been banned,” said Beth, as she settled into his arms. A few moments later she’d fallen asleep.
William lay awake for some time, and tried not to think about what had happened that night in Monte Carlo. And now the boss wanted him to see Christina again. Would he ever be free of her? She’d lied about everything else, and if Beth ever asked her, would she also lie about what had taken place after she’d crept into bed with him?
* * *
“So you and the suspect were at school together, detective sergeant?” said Lamont after William had briefed the superintendent on what had happened after he and Jackie had left his celebration party the night before.
“Prep school,” said William. “Adrian Heath was among my closest friends at the time. So I presume I’ll be taken off the case and DC Roycroft will handle it.”
“No way. This is exactly the kind of opportunity the Hawk has been looking for. We might even have a chance of getting on the inside track if you’re able to turn your friend into a snout.”
“But we couldn’t have parted on worse terms,” William reminded him. “Don’t forget, I was responsible for him being expelled.”
“He’ll still feel safer with you than with Jackie, or any other copper for that matter.” William didn’t offer an opinion. “I want you to return to Rochester Row nick right now and turn Heath back into your best friend. And I don’t care how you do it.”
“Yes, sir,” said William, although he still wasn’t convinced.
“And while we’re on the subject of friends, have you returned Mrs. Faulkner’s call?”
“Not yet, sir,” admitted William.
“Then get on with it. And don’t report back until both of them are on your Christmas card list.”
* * *
“Christina?”
“Who is this?”
“William Warwick, returning your call.”
“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she said, with a friendly laugh.
“That’s hardly likely, considering what happened the last time we met.”
“Perhaps we should meet again. I might have something to tell you of mutual interest.”
“Lunch at the Ritz?” suggested William hopefully.
“Not this time,” said Christina, “because we wouldn’t have ordered our first course before my husband had been informed I was having lunch with the young detective who’d arrested him. It had better be somewhere more discreet this time.”
“How about the Science Museum?”
“I haven’t been there since I was a child, but what a good idea. I have to be in town next Thursday, so why don’t we meet outside the main entrance at eleven?”
“Not outside the entrance,” said William. “Someone might recognize one of us. I’ll meet you by Stephenson’s Rocket on the ground floor.”
“Can’t wait,” she said, before the phone went dead.
William wrote a report of his conversation with Mrs. Faulkner and dropped it on Lamont’s desk before leaving the office and heading for Strutton Ground. During the short walk, he rehearsed several questions he would put to Adrian Heath, although he wasn’t convinced that they would elicit any answers if last night was anything to go by. A few minutes later he was standing outside Rochester Row nick. When he showed the desk sergeant his warrant card, the older man couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I’d like to interview Adrian Heath, the prisoner we brought in last night,” said William.
