Page 101 of Savage Justice

“Ah, yes. You did say. I am becoming confused. In that case, how does this concern us? My client was accused of stealing the genuine article, not a fake. I believe you’re wasting our time and your own, Detective Inspector.”

Norris points an accusing finger at Molly “She knows where the real one is.”

“You have evidence to support this outrageous claim, naturally. Please enlighten us as to what that is.”

“She must know,” he insists. “She’s part of it. The scam.”

Lynne effects a bewildered air. It’s really very good. Oscar-worthy.

“Now we are thoroughly confused. We were given to believe that the genuine painting has been stolen, and Miss Lowe was suspected of the crime. Now, you seem to be suggesting that it was all some sort of deception. A scam, as you put it. Which is the correct version of events, Detective Inspector?”

“Neither. Both.” The inspector’s fist clenches around his pencil. A sharp crack echoes around the conference room.

Lynne takes a breath. I try not to grin, but I haven’t enjoyed myself so much since Coldplay rocked out Hampden Park. I’m not normally a fan of bloodsports, but I’m mesmerised. This is like watching a kitten square up to a tiger.

“I don’t believe this meeting is getting us anywhere,” Lynne announces at last. “I suggest we leave it there.”

“No. I want to question her.” He stabs his finger in Molly’s direction

“Do you have grounds to arrest my client, Detective Inspector?”

“Not arrest, no, but she could help with our inquiries. I insist—”

“I think not.” Lynne closes her file with a definitive thud. “I shall have someone show you out.” She gets to her feet.

“I haven’t finished,” Norris yells to her retreating back.

“I think you have,” she replies as the pair of us troop out with her. “This is over. Goodbye, Detective Inspector.”

CHAPTER 24

Molly

Ethan strolls into the kitchen as I am trying to convince Lucy to finish off her scrambled eggs. “See, Noah ate all his breakfast,” I cajole.

“He’s always eating. And he only has milk.” She scowls at the plate. “I’m full.”

“He has other things as well.”

“Yoghurt doesn’t count,” she insists.

I’m hard-pressed to argue, especially as most of the stuff ended up on the floor. Weaning is a messy business.

“You need a decent breakfast inside you. It’s your first day at your new school today.”

Cristina was able to pull whatever strings, and the headteacher found her a place, despite it being mid-term. He chuntered a bit, said it was ‘unorthodox’, but apparently relented when Cristina reminded him that Lucy was the daughter of a celebrity.

I gather she meant me. Who knew?

“I don’t want to go,” Lucy moans, shoving her food around with her fork.

“Yes, you do. Tomasz and Jacob are going.”

She seemed keen, right up until this morning.

“It’s too posh. They won’t like me.”

“We’re posh, too.” You’d have to be, to afford those fees.

---