Page 92 of Next in Line

Beth turned to see the man who had seemed in such a hurry when he’d passed them in the aisle. He came to a halt, and caught his breath before saying in a broad American accent, ‘I got held up at a board meeting. I’d intended to bid for the Wyeth, and wondered, if you’re a dealer, would you consider selling it to me? I’d be willing to pay five thousand.’

Beth shook her head.

‘Six thousand?’

Beth waited long enough for him to say seven, and was just about to accept his offer when Christina said firmly, ‘No, thank you,’ and began to walk away. He immediately left Beth and chased after Christina. ‘Eight?’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t sell it for ten thousand,’ said Christina. ‘It will fit in so well with my collection.’

‘Eleven,’ said the American, still breathing heavily.

‘Thirteen,’ said Christina, finally coming to a halt.

‘Twelve,’ he countered.

‘Twelve thousand four hundred, and it’s yours.’

The American took out his cheque book and asked, ‘Who do I make it out to?’

‘Mrs Beth Warwick,’ said Christina, without hesitation.

He wrote out the cheque and handed it to Christina before bowing low and leaving them with a smile on his face.

‘So now we’ve made a profit of eight thousand,’ said Christina.

‘You’re a witch,’ said Beth.

‘Of course I am, but then I was taught by the head of the coven.’

‘Miles isn’t that bad.’

‘I wasn’t referring to Miles,’ said Christina, smiling at her friend.

•••

It took Faulkner and Lamont just over an hour to transfer the cash from one large safe-deposit box to another. After he’d checked the final amount, Miles realized Booth Watson must have helped himself to another £126,000 along the way, clearly having made several more visits to the bank during the last few weeks, accompanied by his Gladstone bag. Miles now knew the real reason BW wanted him to plead guilty; it would give his lawyer more than enough time to remove every last penny both from his business account and safe-deposit boxes before he was finally released.

As Lamont returned the empty box to its place, Miles extracted a fifty-pound note from his wallet and dropped it inside. ‘Wouldn’t want BW to go away empty-handed, would we?’

Lamont’s thin smile turned into a broad grin when Miles took ten thousand pounds from the full safe-deposit box and handed it to him.

‘I’ll deposit another ten thousand in your account tomorrow, as long as I’m in bed before lights out.’

Miles locked the box, put the key in his pocket and pressed the green button by the reinforced door, which immediately sprang open. He stepped out into the corridor, barely acknowledging the security guard as he headed back towards the lift. When the door slid open, Miles stepped inside and hit the number 5 button with a vengeance. Lamont joined him just in time.

They returned to the manager’s office on the fifth floor, to find all the necessary paperwork had been completed, and all Miles had to do was add his signature. He double-checked all three documents, and once he’d signed them, he handed his pen to Lamont and invited him to witness his signature. Miles knew this would ensure Lamont kept his mouth shut if he didn’t want to end up sharing the same cell as the beneficiary.

‘When you next see my esteemed lawyer,’ Miles said as he handed back the old key to Cotterill, ‘be sure to give him my best wishes.’

‘And if he should ask—’

‘Simply tell him I gave ex-superintendent Lamont my power of attorney while I was away.’

Once Miles and Lamont had returned to the ground floor, they left the bank without a backward glance and headed straight for the car. Lamont cursed as he removed a parking ticket from the windscreen.

‘Make sure you pay it,’ said Miles. ‘It’s always the little mistakes that catch you out.’ Before Lamont could comment, he added, ‘Let’s get moving. We still have one more important job to do.’

•••

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