Nothing Ventured Page 20

‘I’m enquiring about one of your inmates, Arthur Rainsford, who’s in for murder.’

  ‘If Rainsford’s a murderer,’ said Rose, ‘I’m Jack the Ripper. Do you want to see him?’

  ‘No, sir. But I did wonder if Rainsford is expecting a visitor today.’

  ‘Hold on a jiff, and I’ll check.’ William could feel his heart pounding, and was only glad Dr Ashton wasn’t checking his resting pulse at that moment. ‘Yes, Rainsford does have a visitor this afternoon. His daughter. She’s a regular. Adores her father, and of course she’s absolutely convinced of his innocence. But then they always are.’

  ‘And her name?’ asked William, his voice faltering.

  Another pause. ‘Elizabeth Rainsford.’

  ‘Do you by any chance know where she works?’

  ‘Everyone who visits an A-cat has to register where they work.’ After another pause Rose added, ‘She works at the Fitzmolean Museum. And before you ask, I’d bet my pension she had nothing to do with stealing that Rembrandt.’

  ‘It’s not the Rembrandt I’m worried about.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Thank you for your help, sir,’ said William, before putting down the phone.

  He must have sat there for over an hour, trying to make some sense of it. He now understood why there were no photographs of Beth’s father in the flat. And when she had told him that she’d called her parents in Hong Kong just after he’d arrived back from Rome, she’d obviously forgotten that it would have been the middle of the night in the Far East. He now wished he’d looked at the back of those postcards. His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Hawksby looked in.

  ‘I saw a light under the door,’ he said, ‘and thought I’d just check.’

  William looked up at his boss, tears streaming down his face.

  ‘What’s wrong, William?’ asked Hawksby, sitting down next to him.

  ‘How long have you known?’

  Hawksby didn’t reply immediately. ‘Since the theft of the Rembrandt, we’ve done regular background checks on everyone who works at the Fitzmolean, and her father’s name popped up. I discussed the problem with Bruce after you started seeing her, and we both assumed she must have told you about her father.’

  ‘I’ve only just found out.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Hawksby, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘We all know how you feel about her, and Jackie warned us that it could be serious.’

  ‘I’ve just discovered how serious,’ said William. ‘Now I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘If I were advising you, I’d suggest you tell your father everything. He’s a shrewd and thoughtful man, and one thing’s for sure, he won’t just give you the answer you want to hear.’

  ‘Do you remember the case, sir?’

  ‘Not well, but I do recall the two officers involved, Stern and Clarkson. DI Stern retired soon after the trial ended, and frankly it wasn’t a day too soon. But now you know, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Go home and wait for Beth to get back from Pentonville.’

  ‘Why not go straight to the prison? Be there when she comes out, so you can take her home.’

  William didn’t answer, just sat staring into the distance as if he hadn’t heard him.

  ‘And if you’re going to make it in time,’ added Hawksby, looking at his watch, ‘you’d better get a move on.’

  ‘Of course you’re right, sir,’ said William. He jumped up, grabbed his coat and dashed towards the door, only turning back to say, ‘Thank you.’

  Once he was out on the street, William hailed the first taxi he spotted.

  ‘Where to, guv?’

  ‘Pentonville prison.’

  ‘That’s all I need,’ mumbled the cabbie as William climbed in the back.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘There couldn’t be a worse journey for a cab driver.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘If you take someone to Pentonville, you never get a return fare, because most of them are in for life!’ William laughed, which he wouldn’t have thought possible only a few minutes ago. ‘Are you checkin’ in or just visitin’?’

  ‘Picking up my girlfriend.’

  ‘I didn’t know there were women prisoners at Pentonville.’

  ‘There aren’t. She’s visiting her father.’

  ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’

  ‘Murder.’

  The long silence that followed allowed William to compose his thoughts, and plan what he would say when Beth saw him standing outside the prison. She would be shocked at first, possibly unable to believe he wanted to share her problems, and not walk away.

  The cab swung off the main road and headed down a side street towards a high brick wall that almost blocked out the sun. They came to a halt at a barrier, when the driver said, ‘This is as far as I’m allowed to go.’

  William stared up at a vast wooden gate. A sign outside announced HMP PENTONVILLE.

  ‘Will you be going in, guv?’

  ‘No, I’ll wait outside.’

  ‘Do you want me to drive you both back into town?’

  ‘Not possible, I’m afraid,’ said William after he’d checked the meter and handed over his last couple of pounds. ‘I’ve barely got enough to cover the bus ride back.’

  ‘Have this one on me, guv. I’ve got to go back in any case.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, but it could be some time before—’

  ‘Not a problem. And it might make up for me not minding my own business.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said William, as a side door opened that allowed only one person at a time to leave the prison. A trickle of visitors began to emerge onto the street.

  For many of those who had been visiting relatives or friends this was just another Saturday afternoon. But some crept away with their heads bowed, while others clearly wanted to escape as quickly as possible. Mothers, fathers, wives, girlfriends, some carrying babies, all of them with a story to tell. And then she appeared, looking drained, tears streaming down her face. When Beth first saw him she froze, clearly horrified that she’d been found out.

  William walked quickly towards her and took her in his arms.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, ‘and I always will.’

  He felt her body slump, and he almost had to hold her up.

  Several visitors walked past them as she continued to cling on to him, like a prisoner who had just been released.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, not letting go of him. ‘I should have told you when we first met, but it became more difficult as each day passed. I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. Can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ said William, taking her hand. He opened the cab door for Beth before joining her in the back.

  ‘Where to, guv?’

  ‘Thirty-two Fulham Gardens,’ he said as Beth rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘I’d understand if you wanted to move out.’

  ‘I’ll say this once, Beth, and only once. You’re stuck with me, so get used to it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There are no buts.’

  ‘There is one but,’ she said quietly. ‘You have to understand that I’m in no doubt my father is innocent.’

  That’s what they all say, William could hear SO Rose repeating. ‘It doesn’t matter to me,’ he said, trying to reassure her. ‘I don’t care either way.’

  ‘But it does matter to me,’ said Beth, ‘because I’m determined to clear his name if it’s the last thing I do.’

  They sat in silence for some time before William said, ‘Can I ask one thing of you?’

  ‘Anything. I’ve always assumed you’d leave me the moment you found out about my father. So anything.’

  ‘As you know, my father is one of the leading barristers at the Criminal Bar.’

  ‘And I foolishly fell in love with his son
.’

  ‘If I were to ask him to review the case and give an unbiased opinion, would you be willing to accept his judgement?’

  Beth didn’t respond immediately, but after some thought she said, ‘That’s the least I can do.’

  ‘And would you also be willing to move on if it’s not what you wanted to hear?’

  ‘That might be a little more difficult.’

  ‘Well, at least it’s a start,’ said William. ‘If you’ll come to lunch with my family tomorrow, you can tell my old man why you’re so convinced your father is innocent.’

  ‘I’m not quite ready for that,’ said Beth, taking his hand. ‘The day after I’ve visited my father is almost worse. Sometimes I just cry all day, and can’t wait for Monday when I can get back to work. One step at a time, please. When we get home, I’ll tell you the whole story, but it might be some time before I can face your father’s judgement.’

  ‘But you’ll have to meet him eventually, whatever he decides, because my parents will want to meet the woman I’m going to marry.’

  Most proposals are followed by joy and celebration; Beth wept.

  When the cab drew up outside their home, William got out and thanked the cabbie.

  ‘My pleasure, guv, and I have to admit, that’s the first time someone’s proposed in the back of my cab.’

  He made William laugh for a second time.

  William opened the front door and stood aside to let Beth in. The first thing she did was go straight to the study and take down all the postcards from the mantelpiece, tear them into bits and drop them in the waste-paper basket. She then opened the bottom drawer of the desk, took out a photograph of her parents and placed it on the mantelpiece.

  ‘No more secrets,’ she said, as they went through to the kitchen. ‘In future, only the truth.’

  William nodded, leant across the table and took her hand as she began to tell him how and why her father had been convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment.

  He occasionally interrupted to ask her a question, and by the time they went to bed, he also wanted to believe that Arthur Rainsford just might be innocent. But he knew his father would be far more demanding and sceptical when considering the facts of the case than an inexperienced detective constable and a young woman who obviously adored her father unreservedly. They both agreed to abide by Sir Julian’s judgement.

  On Sunday morning, after a sleepless night, William had far more questions than answers to consider as he prepared to face his father. When he left for the station after breakfast, neither he nor Beth was in any doubt about what was at stake.

  Although William sat gazing out of the carriage window, he was unaware of the countryside rushing by. When he got off at Shoreham, he decided to walk the last couple of miles to Nettleford so he could compose his thoughts and go over what he planned to say, aware that he would be facing not just his father but one of the leading advocates in the land.

  When the thatched cottage in which he had been brought up came into sight, he began to walk more slowly. He opened the front door, knowing it would be on the latch, and found his father sitting in his study by the fire, reading the Observer.

  ‘Good to see you, my boy,’ he said, putting down the paper. ‘Have you found that Rembrandt yet?’

  ‘Father, I’ve met the woman I’m going to marry.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news. Your mother will be delighted. So why isn’t the young lady joining us for lunch?’

  ‘Because her father’s serving a life sentence for murder.’

  Sir Julian Warwick QC sat at the head of the table and listened attentively to his son as he told the family how his life had changed in the last twenty-four hours.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet her,’ said his mother. ‘She sounds very special.’

  Sir Julian didn’t offer an opinion.

  ‘Do you remember the case, Father?’ asked Grace when William had come to the end of his story.

  ‘I have a vague recollection of the trial, but no more than that. Rainsford condemned himself when he confessed to the crime in the presence of two senior police officers.’

  ‘But—’ began William.

  ‘However, I will read the court transcripts, and if I can see even a smidgen of doubt, I’ll visit Rainsford in Pentonville and listen to his side of the story. But I have to warn you, William, that the DPP will not agree to a retrial unless there is fresh evidence to suggest a miscarriage of justice may have taken place. It’s rare, but not unknown. So I’m glad to know that Beth has agreed to move on, if I consider her father’s case not worth challenging.’

  ‘Thank you, Father. I couldn’t have asked for more.’

  ‘If you visit Mr Rainsford,’ said Grace, ‘can I come with you?’

  ‘For what purpose, may I ask?’

  ‘Because if you consider he might be innocent, and if new evidence were to come to light, and if—’

  ‘If, if, if. Where is all this leading?’

  ‘If you decide to take on the case, and it comes before the high court, you’ll need a junior.’

  24

  ‘I’LL BE IN touch, Ross,’ said the commander when he heard a knock on the door.

  The three of them walked in and took their seats around the table in Hawksby’s office for the Monday morning meeting. They all knew there was an elephant in the room, but the commander was determined to carry on as if it was business as usual.

  ‘I’ve just heard that Kevin Carter has been seen back in Barnstaple,’ began Lamont, ‘and according to the local police, his house is up for sale.’

  ‘So Carter must have finally found out the truth,’ said William, ‘and it looks as if Faulkner has even covered his expenses.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time we had another chat with Lieutenant Monti,’ suggested Hawksby. ‘He must have had the professor’s findings so we should start making preparations to arrest Carter.’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ said Lamont, ‘than to go down to Barnstaple and arrest the bastard myself.’

  ‘And possibly also the man behind the whole scam,’ said William.

  ‘Even better.’

  ‘Perhaps Monti even knows who that is,’ said Hawksby. ‘I’ll call him now and put him on speaker phone so we can all hear what he has to say. If either of you have a point to make, don’t interrupt me. Write your thoughts down and pass them across.’ He didn’t wait for a response as he looked up the number and began to dial.

  An unfamiliar ringing tone followed, and it was some time before the call was answered.

  ‘Good morning, my name is Commander Hawksby—’

  ‘Sorry, no speak English.’

  A long silence followed, but there was no purring sound to indicate he’d been cut off.

  ‘Good morning. Captain Loretti speaking. How may I help you?’

  ‘Good morning, captain, this is Commander Hawksby calling from Scotland Yard. I was hoping to have a word with Lieutenant Monti concerning a case we are both working on.’

  ‘Lieutenant Monti is no longer with us, sir. But I can tell you the matter you are referring to has been satisfactorily resolved.’

  ‘Resolved? But we agreed to wait until Monti had received a report from the professor at the Museum of Ancient Artefacts in Florence, when we would announce simultaneously that the Spanish cob coins were fakes, and the whole salvage operation was a scam.’

  ‘That is not my understanding of the situation,’ said the captain. ‘The professor from Florence verified an example of the coins as genuine, and as a result the Italian Naval Office has officially declared them treasure trove. It was well reported in the Italian press. And the good news, commander, is that Lieutenant Monti pulled off a bit of a coup for this department.’

  ‘What form did this coup take?’ asked Hawksby, trying to remain calm.

  ‘Following several days of tough negotiations, the Italian Naval Office agreed on a valuation of the rest of the coins that was well below the amount proposed by M
r Carter’s representative.’

  ‘How much?’ spat out Hawksby.

  ‘Six hundred thousand pounds, of which the Italian government only had to pay out three hundred thousand. So Lieutenant Monti’s skilful negotiations saved the government some fifty thousand pounds.’

  ‘One coin?’ whispered William, breaking the commander’s orders.

  ‘Lieutenant Monti sent only one coin to be examined by the professor?’ asked Hawksby.

  ‘Yes,’ said the captain. ‘The remainder were kept under lock and key in Rome. Monti considered it would be pointless and unnecessarily risky to send the entire casket to Florence.’ Lamont scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper and passed it to Hawksby.

  ‘You said Lieutenant Monti is no longer with you . . .’

  ‘That is correct, commander. He recently took early retirement.’

  ‘But when I last spoke to him, he mentioned the possibility of promotion.’

  ‘Yes, it was all very sudden,’ said Captain Loretti. ‘It seems his mother is suffering from cancer, and he felt that as her only child he ought to resign and return home to look after her. Quite a sacrifice, because, you’re correct, he was just about to be promoted to captain and made head of the department.’

  Where is he? wrote William.

  ‘Is there any way I can get in touch with him?’ asked Hawksby.

  ‘We have a forwarding address in Sicily where I think his family comes from.’

  Lamont threw his arms in the air. ‘I should have been born in Italy,’ he muttered as William wrote down another suggestion for the Hawk to consider.

  ‘One more question, if I may,’ said Hawksby. ‘Can I ask who conducted the negotiations on behalf of Carter?’

  ‘One moment please, commander, while I check.’

  William wrote down a name and waited for the captain to confirm it.

  ‘Ah yes, here it is,’ said Loretti. ‘A lawyer from Lincoln’s Inn, in London. A Mr Booth Watson QC.’

  ‘Thank you, captain,’ said Hawksby, trying not to sound exasperated.

  ‘My pleasure, commander. It is always a privilege to work alongside our colleagues in the Metropolitan Police.’

  Hawksby slammed the phone down as Lamont repeated the same four-letter word again and again.