Wilkinson. If it was him, Hughes, conducting the case, thingsâd be different. He had flair, intuition, skill, subtlety â all the qualities his boss so patently lacked. Still, it wasnât the moment to argue. The Inspector was finally giving him some facts about the case they were working on, and it would be foolish to divert him. So all the Sergeant said was, âRight, sir.â
âOh yes . . .â Wilkinson nodded slowly. âOh yes, all the information seems to lead back to one name.â
âAnd do you reckon youâve got enough solid evidence to arrest him?â
âWell . . .â The Inspector grimaced. âWell, I might have, but there are certain logistical problems inherent in the idea of arresting this particular individual.â
âWhat kind of logistical problems?â
âWell, the main one is â heâs dead.â
âAh. Ah, yes. Well, I can see that might slow you down a bit, sir.â
âHowever, in the case of theft, the death of the perpetrator does not necessarily close the case.â
âNo. The case is still open until the stolen property has been recovered and returned to its rightful owner.â
Inspector Wilkinson looked slightly miffed at having his narrative hurried along in this way. He gave his junior a sour look. âYes, Hughes. Precisely.â
âAnd you reckon, in this instance, the stolen property is in Chastaigne Varleigh?â
But this was going unacceptably fast. However far his own conjectures might have progressed in that direction, Wilkinson certainly wasnât yet ready to share them with an underling. âNo, Hughes,â he said. âI am still investigating their precise whereabouts.â
âBut if theyâre not in Chastaigne Varleigh, then why are we spending all this time watching the place?â
âI have my reasons,â the Inspector replied loftily. âRemember, Hughes, you are the junior member of this team. I am the strategist. I work out what we do, why we do it, and when we do it. The case we are involved in here is one of enormous complexity, which will not respond well to being rushed. I will decide when the moment is right for all the individual threads of the case to be pulled together. And that moment is certainly not yet.â A finger rose to his nose for the trademark tap. âOne of the secrets of being a good copper, Hughes, is to have an infallible instinct for timing.â
âYes,â the Sergeant agreed flatly. Then, after a momentâs silence, he ventured, âYou did say you were going to tell me something related to the case weâre working on.â
The Inspector was affronted. âI
have
told you something.â
âNot much.â
âIâve told you the case involves a series of art thefts. And Iâve told you that all of these art thefts seem to lead back to one man.â
âOne dead man.â
âExactly.â Wilkinson was appalled that the Sergeant wasnât more appreciative of the generosity with which this information had been shared. âWhat more do you want to know?â
âThe manâs name perhaps . . .?â
The Inspector shook his head, very slowly. âNeed to know, Hughes, need to know. Why do you
need to know
that information?â
âWell, it might help me help you with the investigation, mightnât it?â
This prompted another, even slower, shake of the head. âWe have no proof it would do that.â
âBut, for heavenâs sake . . .!â Sergeant Hughes burst out in exasperation. A look at the Inspectorâs expression, however, deterred him from pressing further. He sank back grumpily into his seat. There was a very long silence.
The last exchange had triggered a decision in the Sergeantâs mind. The frustration engendered by working with Inspector Wilkinson had been building all the time, and Hughes had been
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