“I can see that. But what do they prove, other than that he’s enjoying the limelight?”
“Not for much longer, I suspect. Take a closer look, Dad, and you’ll notice something Stern didn’t want us to see.”
“I’m still none the wiser,” confessed her father after he’d taken a second look at the photographs.
“The leather jacket is Versace, and the shoes are Gucci loafers, top of the range.”
“And the watch?” said Sir Julian, catching on.
“A Cartier Tank. And it’s not a fake, unlike the man.”
“Stern certainly couldn’t afford those kinds of luxuries on a detective inspector’s pension.”
“And there’s a bonus,” said Grace, pointing to another couple of photos showing Stern climbing into an S-type Jaguar and driving away. “The car’s registered in his name.”
“I think it’s time to apply to a judge in chambers, and find out if he’d be willing to allow us to inspect Stern’s bank accounts.”
* * *
“Do you think the jury believed a word of that codswallop?” asked William, after Mr. Justice Nourse had called for a recess.
“I’m not sure,” said Hawksby. “But it doesn’t help that Mrs. Faulkner was so obviously planning to steal her husband’s art collection. So the jury will have the unenviable task of deciding which one of them is the bigger liar. How are things progressing in court twenty-two?”
“I’m just on my way to see Beth and find out. By the way,” he added, lowering his voice, “those files I left on the table in your office have proved most helpful.”
* * *
When William entered court twenty-two, the first thing he saw was Arthur Rainsford disappearing down the dock steps to the cells below, accompanied by a policeman.
“We’re finished for the day,” said Beth, as William sat down beside her. “So we may as well go home.”
William thought about having a word with his father, but noticed he was deep in conversation with Grace, so he decided not to interrupt them. Beth took his hand but didn’t say another word until they’d left the building and were out on the street.
“Your sister was forensic in her examination of Professor Abrahams,” said Beth as they walked across the road.
“My father allowed Grace to examine the principal witness?” said William in disbelief.
“And Abrahams was so convincing that the Crown didn’t even bother to cross-examine him.”
“Once again I’ve underestimated the old man,” said William. “But was Grace able to prove there was a missing page?”
“By the time Professor Abrahams had left the witness box, even the Crown’s leader accepted there were three pages,” said Beth as they joined a bus queue.
“That’s good news. But what about the judges? After all, they’re the only ones whose opinions really matter.”
“There’s no way of knowing. Like seasoned poker players, they reveal nothing.”
“Who’s next up to be demolished by my father?” asked William once they’d boarded the bus.
“Detective Sergeant Clarkson, Stern’s former partner.”
“He’s a weaker character than Stern, so might well crack under pressure.”
“How do you know that?”
“I wish you could have seen Hawksby when he was in the witness box,” said William. “Even the judge was impressed.”
Beth got the message and followed his lead. “But didn’t Booth Watson give him a hard time?”
“No, he didn’t even cross-examine him. He’d obviously decided there was nothing to be gained from it.”
“And what was Faulkner like on the stand?”
“Impressive,” admitted William, “if not altogether convincing. He looked a little over-rehearsed and kept putting the blame on his wife.”
“Surely the jury won’t like that.”
“Booth Watson took Christina apart yesterday.” William immediately regretted saying “Christina,” and moved quickly on. “And Faulkner put the boot in today. He also made a promise that took us all by surprise, although I don’t think he has any intention of keeping it.”
“That he’d gift the Rubens to the Fitzmolean?”
“How did you know that?”
“I rang the gallery during the lunch recess, and Tim Knox told me that Booth Watson had phoned to tell him Faulkner would be donating the Rubens as soon as the trial was over.”
“That sounds to me distinctly like a bribe,” said William, as the bus came to a halt in the Fulham Road. “Surely the judge will be able to work that out?”
“Perhaps you should give Faulkner the benefit of the doubt for a change.”
“I fear that’s exactly what the jury might do. But it will take a lot more than that to convince me he hasn’t been in possession of the Renbrandt for the past seven years.”
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go a whole day without discussing either