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Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(9)

Author:Jeffrey Archer

‘And if I’m not willing to sign?’ said Christina, sitting back, despite the fact that Booth Watson had already taken the top off his pen, turned to the last page and planted a forefinger on the dotted line.

‘You will be destitute, and end up living in sheltered accommodation.’

‘While Miles will be back in jail for a very long time, unless …’

‘Unless?’ repeated Booth Watson.

‘Unless he gives me the additional million I was promised in the original divorce settlement. I don’t have to remind you, Mr Booth Watson, that Miles is dead. Like you, I attended his funeral in Geneva, where I was touched by your moving address. If the police were to discover those were not his ashes I was presented with by the compliant priest, it might be a lot more than a million he ends up having to sacrifice. However, if Miles feels unable to keep his word, you can send back the wedding cake and cancel the caterers.’

A long silence followed, during which both sides waited for the other to blink.

‘And do remind him I’ve still got his ashes, which is no more than my insurance policy should he fail to deliver.’

‘Life insurance policies usually only pay out when you die.’

‘I left the urn to Detective Inspector William Warwick in my will, which I think might help him to make up his mind.’

? ? ?

‘Beware,’ said William, as he took a seat in the corner of an alcove opposite the fledgling detective. ‘If I were a contract killer, I would have known exactly where to find you at this time of day, which would make bumping you off that much easier. If you’re going to be a detective, you can’t afford to be a creature of habit. In future, James, I’ll expect you to find me. And I’ll never be in the same place twice.’

‘But a contract killer isn’t likely to be on board a luxury cruise liner.’

‘Unless his victim is on the way to New York, leaving us with over two thousand suspects.’

‘I saw you having breakfast with your wife this morning,’ said James, wanting to move on.

‘Never assume anything,’ said William. ‘Always open any investigation with a blank page.’

‘But you introduced her as your wife.’

‘Proves nothing.’

‘She was wearing a wedding ring.’

‘Married women have been known to have affairs.’

‘I don’t think a mistress would have ordered breakfast for you,’ said James, fighting back.

‘A fair assumption, but not beyond reasonable doubt. What’s the equivalent legal term in America?’

‘On the balance of judgement,’ replied James. ‘I also noticed that your wife appeared to be more interested in our table than yours,’ he continued, not allowing him to change the subject.

‘That’s called marriage,’ said William with a chuckle. ‘But I confess, she’s already turned your family into a gothic novel, with the juicy details supplied by our waiter.’

‘Franco,’ said James. ‘He’s served on my grandfather’s ships for over thirty years. No one knows the company, or the family, better. My grandfather offered him the chance to be the ma?tre d’ on The Pilgrim, our flagship vessel, but he turned the old man down.’

‘Why would he do that?’ asked William.

‘He told me he didn’t want to lose contact with the passengers, but I suspect it’s more likely he didn’t want to forgo the tips he picks up on every trip.’ James paused. ‘I doubt if Franco is his real name, and he sure isn’t Italian by birth.’

‘Proof?’ demanded William.

‘The accent slips occasionally, and I once asked his opinion of Caruso, and it was clear he’d never heard of the great tenor.’

‘Reason for suspicion, but not proof. Although I do think he’s hiding something.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’ve seen that look before when someone discovers I’m a copper.’

‘He did a short spell in prison before he joined the company,’ said James. ‘But even my grandfather doesn’t know about that.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘I was once on a voyage out of Southampton, when he asked to change tables.’

‘Did you find out why?’

‘One of the passengers came from somewhere called Hackney, and I saw a look of recognition on his face when he spotted Franco. I arranged for him and his wife to sit at the captain’s table one evening, in exchange for information. Even Franco doesn’t know I know. Mind you, there but for the grace of God goes my grandfather. Several well-chronicled near misses and one appearance in court, when the jury concluded “Not proven”。’

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