The Chalon Heads (38 page)

‘Aye, but we also know that Raphael’s methods are extremely sophisticated, only detectable under laboratory conditions.’

‘That’s what Waverley told us, sir, yes.’

‘He did freely admit to us that he’d been fooled by the ransom-note stamps,’ McLarren went on. ‘We can certainly call in other experts to confirm his opinion, but our lab people seemed convinced.’

Kathy glanced apprehensively at Brock. ‘There is something else about Dr Waverley.’

‘Really? Do go on.’

‘Well, I’ve kept thinking about the day of the auction at Cabot’s, and trying to work out how Brock could have been framed.’

She saw McLarren draw back a little in his chair, his eyes becoming guarded. She was almost sure he was going to challenge the word ‘framed’, but then he changed his mind and said, ‘Yes, go on.’

‘When we came to the end of the discussion about whether we should use the fake cover that the laboratory and Dr Waverley had made, he put it back into its envelope—’

‘And offered it to Brock,’ McLarren broke in. ‘Yes, everyone who was there has agreed on that, including DCI Brock himself.’ He deferred in Brock’s general direction.

‘But before he handed it to Brock,’ Kathy went on carefully, ‘he went to put it back into his briefcase, then changed his mind and handed it to Brock. I’m not sure, I wasn’t paying close attention—nobody really was—but he might have switched the envelope with another in his bag, with a similar padding but no cover inside.’

She’d said it now, and immediately knew how half-baked it sounded.

McLarren was regarding her with astonishment. ‘He’d planned the whole thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why, lassie?’ McLarren sounded incredulous. ‘Why steal a fake—his own fake? If he was working with the kidnappers, they were going to get the real stamp anyway.’

‘I—I don’t know. I think he might have been working with Sammy.’

‘With Sammy?’ McLarren’s astonishment grew visibly. ‘Whom he was also defrauding by authenticating his forged stamps?’

Kathy swallowed and remained silent. She briefly caught Tony Hewitt’s look, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and contemptuous.

McLarren cleared his throat as if wanting rid of some embarrassing internal obstruction. Kathy knew that she had breached an undeclared convention of their meeting, by bringing up the matter about which Brock was being investigated. McLarren, as party to that investigation, did not want it confused with his present wee problem, and had not brought Brock there to hear theories of his innocence.

‘I think,’ McLarren declared firmly, ‘that we’ll stick to the suspects we have, until we have something a little more concrete.’

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a man brought a message in for Hewitt, who ripped open the envelope and quickly read the contents. ‘Starling’s call came from south of the river,’ he said. ‘They doubt if they’ll be able to pin it down closer than that.’

McLarren considered this. ‘Would he have done that on purpose, Brock? Cross the river before making the call, to put us off the track?’

‘I doubt it. I think he’ll stay close to his prisoner.’

‘And yet he’s a canny wee bastard. What do you say, Tony?’ ‘Two thirds south, one third north.’ ‘Aye, that makes sense. It’ll be clearer when we find Desai’s car. Well, Brock, I’ll not detain you further. If you have any more ideas, do please get in touch.’

He turned to Kathy, and it seemed to her that his manner towards her had changed. He seemed distant and slightly melancholy, as if saddened by the failure of a promising pupil. ‘Why don’t you run DCI Brock home now, Kathy, and then report to Cobalt Square for your assignment in the search?’

‘Sir.’

McLarren turned his back on her with deliberation, and bent to consult with Hewitt, who didn’t give either her or Brock a second glance.

As the lift doors closed behind them, Kathy let out a deep breath and said, ‘Well, I blew that.’

‘It was a good try, Kathy,’ Brock murmured. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

‘Don’t you believe it possible either? About Waverley switching envelopes?’

‘Actually, I do. But McLarren’s objections are sound.’

Kathy said nothing more until they found the car in the car park behind the building. When she got behind the wheel she said, ‘Why don’t we pay him a visit?’

‘Who?’

‘Waverley. Test him, see how he reacts.’

‘Your senior officer wouldn’t approve.’

‘We don’t know that for a fact. It’s just a matter of clearing up a loose end, that’s all. Why don’t you ring the manager at Cabot’s and find out how we can reach Waverley?’

Brock smiled and took the phone she offered him.

James Melville was most helpful. ‘Tim Waverley? Yes, I can tell you exactly where he is, as a matter of fact. He’s upstairs in our stock-room at this moment. This is one of his days with us, going over some of the material for our next auction. Shall I warn him to expect you?’

They found Dr Waverley precisely where James Melville had directed them, deep in conversation with another member of Cabot’s staff, who left as they approached. It was a high-ceilinged, cool room, lined with tall wooden cabinets of drawers, and a circular window high on one side throwing a disc of bright sunlight on to the floor. Waverley was dressed as he had been on each previous occasion, in cream summer suit, pale-blue shirt and navy blue bow-tie, and welcomed them with interest.

‘Dreadful news of Mr Starling’s wife, Chief Inspector. Has there been any progress?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Brock nodded grimly. ‘There has indeed.’

‘It was only a small point we wanted to check with you, Dr Waverley,’ Kathy said, ‘but we thought we’d better do it in person, to avoid any alarm.’

‘Alarm?’

‘Have you by any chance heard from Mr Starling in the past twenty-four hours?’

‘Starling? No, I haven’t.’

‘Ah, good, that is a relief.’

‘I’m not sure I follow. I wouldn’t expect to hear from him. Is something wrong?’

‘But you did know him quite well, didn’t you? Before all this happened, I mean. You did checks for him, didn’t you, to authenticate stamps he wanted to buy?’

‘Occasionally, yes. Look, I explained all this to the superintendent, McLarren. Hasn’t he seen my report on the extent of the forgeries in the Starling collection yet?’

‘Ah,’ Brock said. ‘We’re working on different aspects of the case, Dr Waverley. He hasn’t kept me up to date on that side of things.’

‘Hasn’t he?’ Waverley looked doubtfully at Kathy, as at a slack student in a tutorial class.

‘Could you give us a summary?’ she asked.

‘Oh, it’s bad, I’m afraid. Very extensive range of forgeries, especially in the high-value categories. If it weren’t so serious, financially, I mean, for Cabot’s and Mr Starling, one would feel, well, elated perhaps—privileged certainly.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘This is one of the great forgery cases, that’s all. Raphael is clearly up there with the greats—Spiro, Sperati and de Thuin.’

‘Raphael, did you say?’ Brock queried.

‘Yes. Didn’t the superintendent tell you that, either?’

Brock smiled. ‘Oh, he told me, Dr Waverley. I just wondered how you came to know the name.’

‘Because he told me too. How else?’

‘Mr Starling never mentioned that name to you?’

‘No, no, he didn’t.’

‘No one else? You’d never heard it before Superintendent McLarren told you?’

‘Absolutely not. Why?’

‘I’m just relieved, Dr Waverley, that’s all.’

‘You said that before. What is there to be relieved about, for God’s sake?’

Brock looked at Kathy, as if not sure how much to say, then rubbed the side of his beard ruminatively and said, lowering his voice so that Waverley had to lean forward to hear, ‘Well, we don’t want to cause unnecessary alarm, sir, but the fact is that Mr Starling has . . .’ He paused and looked again at Kathy, who looked grave, thinking that he was overplaying it a little.

‘Has what?’ Waverley demanded.

‘Has gone missing. No, well, more than that, gone off the rails a bit.’

‘A bit?’

‘Last night he attacked a stamp dealer in Shoreditch.’

They both saw Waverley’s face freeze instantaneously at the mention of the place.

‘You’re joking.’

‘I’m afraid not. It was a very deliberate assault, sir. He cut off the fingers of his victim’s right hand, one by one.’

Waverley’s eyes goggled dramatically behind his glasses. ‘No! For God’s sake, why?’

‘In order to make the man talk. He wanted information from him. Walter Pickering—know him do you, sir?’

‘I—I don’t think so. Dear God, cut off his fingers? That’s . . . barbaric!’

‘Indeed, but effective, up to a point. The point being that at which the victim passes out or dies of shock.’

‘Pickering’s dead?’

‘No, but very poorly. In intensive care. He may not make it, and we haven’t been able to determine how much he told Starling. That’s the point, you see, Dr Waverley. We are concerned that Starling may have picked up information, wrongly, perhaps, about other people whom he may think cheated him.’

‘Cheated?’

‘The forged stamps were part of a systematic fraud to cheat Mr Starling. He is presently engaged in taking his own revenge on those concerned, and we are anxious to protect them. But we’re hampered by lack of information. The person who might have helped us, Walter Pickering, is unable to communicate now, or probably for a number of days, by which time it may be too late for those whom Sammy Starling takes it into his head to punish.’

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘Quite. Are you sure you don’t know Walter Pickering, Dr Waverley?’

‘Pickering . . . Pickering . . .’ Waverley gazed rather wildly up at the ocular window for inspiration. ‘Hell . . . I’m not sure . . . Why? Do you have some reason to think . . . ?’

‘We think it likely that Raphael’s product came to Starling by way of Pickering. You may have authenticated some of that material. You may therefore have come across Pickering, or be on his records.’

‘His records?’ Waverley swallowed hard. ‘Yes, of course, he would have kept records, I suppose.’

‘Very extensive records. But again, we have a difficulty, because Starling got to them before we did.’

‘Did he? Good God.’

‘Yes. His bloodstained footprints preceded us through Pickering’s house, Dr Waverley. It was a fairly unsettling experience, following them. You can imagine . . . in every room, in every cupboard, in every filing cabinet.’

Take it easy, Brock, Kathy thought.

‘Yes, I can imagine,’ Waverley breathed.

‘And you may be on his records in connection with other frauds, too,’ Kathy added.

Waverley looked startled.

‘We’ve found another customer of Pickering, a neighbour of Starling’s called Fitzpatrick.’

‘I’ve never heard of him.’

‘But you provided a certificate of authentication for the stamps he bought—Chalon Heads, similar to Starling’s— which have also turned out to be forgeries.’

‘Have they? Where are they? I haven’t seen them, have I?’

‘Not yet,’ Kathy said. ‘The point is, you do seem to have been quite extensively involved in Pickering’s activities, and Starling may well take that as an indication—’

‘Hang on!’ Waverley got slowly to his feet, pushing the unruly lock of hair back from his brow angrily. ‘I was not
extensively involved
in any fraud, if that’s what you’re implying. I am called upon to give an opinion on the authenticity of a great number of stamps, and I have made no bones about the fact that the work of your Raphael has indeed fooled me. He is extremely good at what he does, and I acknowledge my genuine error. But that does not make me a party to any fraud, and I am outraged that you should link my name with that of a dubious dealer.’

Brock held up his hand soothingly. ‘No, no, no, Dr Waverley. That wasn’t what Sergeant Kolla was trying to say. Perhaps she expressed herself badly.’

‘Well . . .’ Another flip of the hair, and he sat down again. ‘All right, as long as that’s clear.’

‘That’s fine. So we can be reassured, then, that Starling won’t be coming after you. Do you have receipts, incidentally?’

‘Receipts?’

‘Yes, of your transactions with Pickering.’

‘I told you, I don’t recall any transactions with someone called Pickering.’

‘Oh, I think you must have had some all the same. The stamps Mr Fitzpatrick bought from him came with your certificate. Surely Pickering would have paid you for providing that?’

‘Perhaps the previous owner had me authenticate them.’

‘There was no previous owner, though, Dr Waverley. Only Raphael, their maker.’

‘Then maybe Raphael forged my certificate also!’ Waverley said, with more than a touch of exasperation.

‘Ah, good point,’ Brock conceded. ‘Look, I only mentioned this as something you might like to check from your files. Superintendent McLarren is particularly hot on these things, and if he comes across transactions with your name against them when he goes through Pickering’s papers, he will naturally be checking them with you. You must have accurate records, I take it? For tax purposes, of course. Superintendent McLarren is very hot on the tax angle too.’

‘Is he?’ Waverley said hesitantly.

‘We’ve taken up enough of your time.’ Brock got to his feet. Kathy left Waverley her card, and he stared at it in a preoccupied sort of way as they turned to go.

When they got back into the car, Brock said, ‘He didn’t seem too much rattled, did he? After he’d recovered from the story of Pickering’s fingers.’

‘No. Maybe I was wrong. What now?’ She looked at her watch. ‘Midday. Seven and a half hours since Leon . . . I feel so helpless.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Brock murmured.

‘You wouldn’t believe the mess in Pickering’s storeroom, Brock. I didn’t think Sammy would have been capable of it. It makes me feel sick, thinking of Leon . . .’

‘Sammy has always been a cool thinker, Kathy.’ Brock sounded reassuring. ‘He never went in for unnecessary violence, and he has absolutely no reason to hurt Leon now.’

‘But Eva affected him, didn’t she? Made him act out of character. He used unnecessary violence on her, didn’t he?’

‘If it was him.’