‘Christina?’
‘Who is this?’
‘William Warwick, returning your call.’
‘I thought you’d forgotten me,’ she said, with a friendly laugh.
‘That’s hardly likely, considering what happened the last time we met.’
‘Perhaps we should meet again. I might have something to tell you of mutual interest.’
‘Lunch at the Ritz?’ suggested William hopefully.
‘Not this time,’ said Christina, ‘because we wouldn’t have ordered our first course before my husband had been informed I was having lunch with the young detective who’d arrested him. It had better be somewhere more discreet this time.’
‘How about the Science Museum?’
‘I haven’t been there since I was a child, but what a good idea. I have to be in town next Thursday, so why don’t we meet outside the main entrance at eleven?’
‘Not outside the entrance,’ said William. ‘Someone might recognize one of us. I’ll meet you by Stephenson’s Rocket on the ground floor.’
‘Can’t wait,’ she said, before the phone went dead.
William wrote a report of his conversation with Mrs Faulkner and dropped it on Lamont’s desk before leaving the office and heading for Strutton Ground. During the short walk, he rehearsed several questions he would put to Adrian Heath, although he wasn’t convinced that they would elicit any answers if last night was anything to go by. A few minutes later he was standing outside Rochester Row nick. When he showed the desk sergeant his warrant card, the older man couldn’t hide his surprise.
‘I’d like to interview Adrian Heath, the prisoner we brought in last night,’ said William.
‘Be my guest. He’s in number two,’ said the sergeant, filling in an empty box on the custody record. ‘Refused breakfast this morning. We might get him in front of the magistrate later this afternoon, so he’s not going anywhere fast.’
‘That’s good, because I was hoping to have an intel chat with him unconnected with the offence he’s been arrested for.’
‘Fine, but keep me briefed, so all the paperwork’s in order.’
‘Will do,’ said William, as the desk sergeant handed him a large key and said, ‘He’s all yours.’
William took the key, walked along the corridor and stopped in front of cell No. 2. He peered through the grille to see Adrian lying down, a glazed expression on his face, and looking as if he hadn’t moved since last night. He turned the key in the lock, pulled open the heavy door and walked in. Adrian opened his eyes, looked up and said, ‘This place isn’t much better than our old prep school.’
William laughed as he sat down next to him on the thin, urine-stained mattress. I’m innocent, had been scratched on the wall above Adrian’s head by a previous prisoner.
‘I’d offer you tea and biscuits,’ said Adrian, ‘but I’m afraid room service isn’t that reliable.’
‘I see you haven’t lost your sense of humour,’ said William.
‘Nor you your quest to be Sir Galahad. So, have you come to rescue me, or to lock me up for the rest of my life?’
‘Neither. But I might be able to help you if you felt willing to cooperate.’
‘What would you expect in return? Because I’ve never believed in the old boys’ network.’
‘Me neither,’ said William. ‘But I might have something to offer that could prove mutually beneficial.’
‘You’re going to supply me with drugs for the rest of my life?’
‘You know that’s not going to happen, Adrian. But I could ask the magistrate to be lenient when your case comes up this afternoon, despite this not being your first appearance in the dock.’
‘That’s not much of an offer. I’ll probably only get six months anyway, and there are worse places to be than holed up in your own cell with a TV, central heating, and three meals a day, not to mention a ready supply of drugs.’
‘As this is your third offence, you’re more likely to be spending Christmas sharing a cell in Pentonville with a murderer, which might not be quite so much fun.’
‘Come on then, Choirboy, surprise me.’
It was William who was surprised. ‘Choirboy,’ he repeated.
‘That’s what my old friend Sergeant Roycroft called you last night. A great improvement on Sherlock, I thought.’
William tried to regain the initiative. ‘As you clearly know what I’ve been up to since we last met, how about you?’
Adrian stared up at the ceiling for a long time, as if his interrogator wasn’t there. An old con’s trick, William knew. He was about to give up and leave when suddenly a torrent of words came flooding out.
‘After my expulsion from Somerton, thanks to you, my old man used his influence to get me into one of the minor public schools. They were willing to turn a blind eye whenever I needed a quick drag behind the bicycle shed, but they drew the line when I moved on to cannabis. Can’t say I blame them.’ He paused, but still didn’t look at William, who had taken out his pocket book and begun to make notes.
‘After that my father sent me to a crammer, and I somehow got offered a place at a university a long way from home. Heaven knows how much the old man had to stump up for that little favour.’ Another long pause. ‘Unfortunately, I didn’t get beyond my freshman year after one of the post grads introduced me to heroin. It wasn’t too long before I was hooked, and spent most days in bed, and most nights wondering how I’d get my next fix. After I was rusticated, my tutor told me I could resume my studies if I kicked the habit, so my father sent me off to one of those rehab centres that are full of do-gooders who want to save your soul. Frankly, my soul was no longer worth saving, so I signed myself out at the end of the first week, and I haven’t spoken to the old man since. I stayed in touch with my mother, and she kept me afloat for a couple of years. But even her patience eventually ran out, and probably
