‘Surely Miles didn’t fall for that,’ said Beth.
‘No, he did not. In fact, I suspect Booth Watson has just lost his most lucrative source of income.’
‘Don’t underestimate that man,’ said Beth. ‘He’s capable of switching sides faster than a weather vane in a high wind. He’d happily represent Christina without a second thought, and then it would be Miles who had to constantly look over his shoulder.’
‘Where no doubt he’d find her accomplice lurking in the shadows,’ declared William, then raised his glass and said, ‘Happy anniversary, my darling.’
‘Happy anniversary. I suppose we ought to raise a glass to Miles Faulkner.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if he’d pleaded not guilty, we might not be celebrating our anniversary this evening.’
‘It must have been a close-run thing,’ admitted William.
‘Could it have anything to do with you leaping out of bed before the sun had risen to attend another COBRA meeting?’ William took a sip of champagne. ‘I don’t even know what COBRA stands for,’ admitted Beth, still pushing at a closed door.
‘Cabinet Office Briefing Room,’ replied William, without any further explanation.
‘And the A?’
‘Legend has it that a civil servant added the A as an afterthought, thinking it made the committee sound more important, while others suggest it’s simply Committee Room A.’
After a long silence, Beth gave up and turned her attention back to the package in front of her.
‘What could this possibly be?’ she said as she began to unwrap it. ‘A diamond necklace, perhaps?’
‘I think you’ll have to wait for our tenth anniversary before you can hope for that.’
‘Pearls, rubies, or gold?’
‘Thirty, forty, and fifty years,’ teased William as she slowly removed the red wrapping paper before opening the box to reveal an eternity bracelet.
‘How did you know this was exactly what I was hoping for?’
‘Possibly because you’ve been unsubtly hinting about it for the past month,’ said William, slipping it onto her wrist, clicking the clasps shut and using the tiny gold screwdriver to lock the bracelet into place.
‘A life sentence,’ sighed Beth, ‘and no one to defend me.’
‘I’m sure Booth Watson will be only too happy to represent you, as he’s a bit short of clients at the moment.’
‘I can’t afford him,’ said Beth, placing a forearm across her forehead and sighing. ‘So sadly, caveman, I’m stuck with you.’
‘Who gave you that?’ William asked, when he spotted a Tank watch on her wrist that he’d never seen before. ‘Do I have a rival?’
‘Several. But the answer to your question, Superintendent, is Christina.’
‘What a remarkably generous gift. I can assure you that her ex-husband didn’t give me anything for fixing his early release.’
Beth raised an eyebrow, but William didn’t oblige.
‘As always with Christina,’ said Beth, ‘it’s not quite as straightforward as it seems, because I remember her wearing the watch at the Frans Hals opening. But the crocodile strap looks new, and if I’m going to be offered hand-me-downs, who better than Christina to supply them?’
‘Does that mean your joint enterprise is flourishing?’
‘It certainly does, not least because I recently had a little coup with a Russell Flint watercolour.’
‘Father or son?’
‘Stop showing off,’ said Beth. ‘I was able to sell it on to a collector for a handsome return, and as Christina continues to reinvest her share of the profits, I’ve made her a fifty-fifty partner.’
‘You’re fast becoming a vulgar capitalist,’ said William, after raising his glass once again.
‘But for how much longer,’ mused Beth, causing William to raise an eyebrow. She took a sip of champagne before answering his unasked question. ‘I had a call from the chairman this morning, to let me know that Gerald Sloane has resigned as director.’
‘Why would he do that?’ William paused before adding, ‘There has to be a reason.’
‘If there is,’ said Beth, ‘they’re keeping schtum about it.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘Christina found out when the chairman asked her if she would consider coming back on the board.’
‘So she’ll know the reason,’ said William, then added, ‘which means, so do you.’
‘Let’s just say that three of Sloane’s secretaries handed in their notice during the brief time he was director, which the board may have considered to be one too many.’
‘There has to be more to it than that.’
‘You tell me what you know about Faulkner,’ said Beth, ‘and I’ll tell you what I know about Sloane.’
William seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then thought better of it. ‘Will you be applying for the job?’ he said, as if he hadn’t heard the question. ‘After all, they must realize you’re the reason the Hals self-portrait is still hanging on the museum’s wall.’
‘I’m torn,’ said Beth as she took another sip of champagne. ‘If I were to become director of the Fitzmolean, it would mean a cut of around fifty per cent of my current income, and back to office hours, which means I’d see far less of the children. At the same time, I’d have to cope with the continual demands to raise funds to keep the museum afloat.’
‘Then I’ll have to be promoted to Chief Superintendent,’ said William.
‘Perhaps they won’t even offer me the job,’ said Beth wistfully.
‘They won’t make that mistake a second time.’
Lucio reappeared at their table and placed the sole meunière in front of Beth, then reluctantly dumped a portion of fish and chips on William’s side of the table. Both of them looked content. The sommelier stepped forward and uncorked the Pouilly-Fumé, pouring a small amount in Beth’s glass. She took a sip and smiled. He topped up her glass while Lucio placed a pint of beer in front of William.
Beth had just picked up her knife and fork, when William’s mobile began to ring.
‘You answer that at your peril, caveman,’ said Beth.
William took his mobile from an inside pocket and was about to switch it off when he saw whose number it was flashing up on the screen. The rings continued while he thought about the consequences, but decided to take his life in his hands and pressed the phone to his ear.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said. ‘Can I assume you’re calling to wish Beth and me a happy anniversary, as we’re just about to begin our main course.’
‘Happy anniversary,’ said the Hawk and, without pausing, added, ‘I’ve just had a call from Number...’ William listened carefully to what the commander had to say, while Beth raised her fish knife high above her head.
‘I’m on my way,’ he said, switching off his phone and giving his wife an apologetic look.
‘Can you think of one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you?’ she said, her fish knife inching towards his heart.
‘No, I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘But could I plead for a stay of execution until after I’ve seen the Prime Minister?’
Dear Reader,
I hope you have enjoyed William Warwick’s latest adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it.
One of the pleasures I get over and above the writing is carrying out detailed research, which adds authenticity to the work. Next in Line was no exception. However, I had to take some liberties, not least with the timing of the Last Night of the Proms, and one or two readers might quibble about other, less important, inaccuracies. But before you put pen to paper, please remember, it’s a work of fiction, and I just want you to enjoy the story.