When the taxi drew up outside No. 23, William said, ‘Can you hang about? I shouldn’t be too long.’
‘The meter will still be running,’ said the cabbie with a grin.
William opened the little wicket gate, walked down a short path and knocked on the front door. Moments later, a young woman answered it.
‘Is Mrs Prescott at home?’ he asked, after he had shown her his warrant card.
‘She’s just got back from church. I’ll go and fetch her.’
An older woman appeared a few moments later, dressed in her Sunday best. ‘Do come in, Chief Inspector,’ she said. ‘I was just about to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?’
‘Thank you,’ said William, who closed the front door, and followed her through to the kitchen. Once she’d put the kettle on, she said, ‘Please, sit down, young man, and tell me how I can help you.’
William took out the photograph of Ralph Neville and placed it on the kitchen table. ‘When you were on the Sevenoaks run yesterday afternoon, did you see this man?’
‘I most certainly did,’ said Rose, as she poured William a cup of tea. ‘Sugar?’
‘No, thank you. What makes you so sure you recognize him?’
‘Shouldn’t think a gentleman like that travels by bus too often, at least not dressed as if he was going to a wedding.’ William didn’t interrupt. ‘What I remember most was, when I gave him his ticket he didn’t have any loose change on him, just a five-pound note. And what’s more, Mrs Haskins, one of my regulars, told me later that he must have run out of petrol, because he’d left his flashy car by the side of the road.’ She paused, took a sip of tea and said, ‘Does he want his money back?’
‘His money?’ repeated William.
‘The change from the five-pound note, although he did say I could keep it. Anyway, he’s got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting it back,’ chuckled Rose, ‘because I put it on the collection plate this morning, and I can’t see the vicar giving it back.’
William laughed. ‘I don’t suppose you saw where he went after he got off the bus?’
‘He walked across the road to the taxi rank.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh yes. I thought he might be going to get some change, and would be coming back for his fiver, but he just got in the back of a taxi and off he went.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d recognize the taxi driver?’ said William hopefully.
‘No, sorry love,’ said Rose, as the young woman reappeared.
‘Any hope of you carting Mum off to jail, Chief Inspector?’
‘Not quite yet, but if she tries to make a dash for it, I’ve got the handcuffs ready,’ said William, as he finished his tea.
‘Pity,’ said her daughter. ‘My boyfriend was hoping to spend the night.’
‘You can forget it,’ said Rose firmly. ‘That’s not going to happen until I see an engagement ring on your finger, and maybe not even then.’
‘Thank you, Rose,’ said William, as he stood up. ‘I ought to get going.’
‘Of course.’
William paused as she opened the front door for him. ‘You’ve made my day,’ he said.
‘Mine too,’ said Rose, ‘because I wouldn’t have wanted to tell the vicar he was going to have to give that fiver back. Mind you, I have a feeling the man in the photograph won’t miss it.’
William bent and kissed the shrewd woman on both cheeks, which was rewarded with a warm smile. He walked down the path, climbed into the back of the waiting cab, and noticed the meter was still ticking.
‘Back to the station, please.’
‘She didn’t look like a master criminal to me,’ said the cabbie.
‘You’re right. But her late husband was a Gunners’ fan.’
‘Is that a crime?’
‘It is if you support Chelsea,’ said William, which created the silence he needed while he thought about what his next move should be.
Ross and Danny were waiting for him at the taxi rank, one smiling, one frowning. He took the frown first.
‘Not a dickybird,’ said Danny. ‘The ticket collector let me know, ever so politely, that over a thousand passengers commute into London every weekday, and that on a Saturday, if the footy’s on, it’s even more. As far as he was concerned, the bloke in the picture looked like any other city gent, so how could he possibly be expected to remember him?’