‘I suppose this can’t go on for much longer,’ Jackie said as she pulled the sheet up to her chin.
‘We won’t have a lot of choice,’ said Ross, as he lit a cigarette. ‘If we don’t end it now, I have a feeling The Hawk will.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said quietly.
‘We’ll still be seeing each other every day.’
‘It won’t be the same,’ she said, nestling up against his shoulder. ‘Do you think The Hawk knows about us?’
Ross inhaled deeply before he replied. ‘Of course he does. Nothing gets past that man. Out of interest, how do you get on with the choirboy?’
‘He’s the only person I’ve come across who just might be capable of taking over from The Hawk,’ she said with undisguised respect.
‘That good?’
‘Possibly better. The Hawk already treats him as an equal.’
‘And the rest of the team?’
‘A great bunch of guys to work with. You’re going to have to be at your best just to keep up with them,’ she teased.
‘Anything else I ought to know before I show up next week?’
‘I’ve already briefed you on the five cases we’re working on, and The Hawk’s saved the worst one for you. But you should also know I’m still in touch with Bruce Lamont, and I’m being handsomely rewarded for my trouble.’
‘With whose money?’ said Ross. ‘Lamont is still living way beyond his means, so someone has to be backing him.’
‘William thinks it must be Booth Watson.’
‘What further use would that quilted criminal have for Lamont now that Summers is safely locked up in Pentonville?’
‘Miles Faulkner.’
‘I thought you attended his funeral.’
‘But not his burial it would seem, or at least that’s Warwick’s opinion,’ said Jackie.
‘Not a hope,’ said Ross. ‘If Faulkner’s still alive, Lamont would be the last person Booth Watson would confide in. I suspect he holds that man in the same high regard as the rest of us.’
‘We don’t have any other leads at the moment,’ admitted Jackie, ‘except for Christina Faulkner, who’s a friend of William’s wife.’
‘That woman will only ever do what’s in her own best interests.’ Ross blew out a large circle of smoke, before adding, ‘I wish I was still undercover, because nothing would give me greater pleasure than to nail Faulkner and put all three of them behind bars.’
‘All three of them?’
‘Faulkner, Booth Watson and Lamont.’
‘Not Christina?’ said Jackie, teasing him.
‘She’s not my type,’ said Ross, as he climbed back on top of her.
CHAPTER 6
‘I THINK I’VE SOLVED THE fingerprint problem,’ said James, as he sat down for breakfast the following morning.
‘How,’ asked William, ‘when we don’t have a forensic lab at our disposal?’
‘Don’t need one when there’s a shop selling toys on deck four,’ he announced, looking rather pleased with himself.
‘Stop showing off,’ said William, grinning.
‘It didn’t take much research to discover that one of the most popular items in the shop is a Sherlock Holmes kit for aspiring detectives. I bought the last three sets,’ said James, producing one of them from below the table with a flourish. ‘They contain a fingerprint pad, special paper, dusting powder, a tiny brush and a magnifying glass. What more could you want?’
‘Well done, Detective Constable Buchanan. Thinking outside the box.’
‘Inside the box, actually,’ said James, removing the lid to reveal several small compartments.
‘Pathetic,’ said William, ‘but bravo.’
‘Whose fingerprints do you want to check, Chief Inspector?’ he asked as he took a sip of orange juice.
‘You can begin with your uncle Hamish,’ said William, checking James’s table plan. ‘Start with his silver hip flask, and then his coffee cup, so you have matching prints. Then move on to your great-aunt Flora, who was sitting on his left, next Dr Lockhart, followed by your mother, and finally your grandfather.’
‘What about those who were sitting on the other side of the table?’
‘We don’t need theirs.’
‘Why not?’
‘Think about it, detective, and let me know when the penny drops.’
‘Do you know where that expression originates?’