large shed in the corner of the garden, then back to the house, where he spotted someone in the front room. A solitary figure, whom he assumed must be Carter, was sitting by the fire reading a newspaper. A woman entered the room and began vacuuming. Was she Angie? After he’d read the back page, Carter folded the newspaper, stood up, poked the fire, and left the room. A few moments later the front door opened, and he crossed the lawn, unlocked the shed door, and went inside. Once again, William lost sight of him.
William swung quickly around when the door behind him opened. He knew it couldn’t be Jackie.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” said a maid. “Would you like me to make up the room?”
“No, thank you,” said William, who quickly stood up, making sure the binoculars were out of sight. When the door closed, he disobeyed Jackie’s orders and began to nibble on a biscuit, before returning to his post. He turned his attention back to the shed and could just make out what looked like a workbench, and a crouched figure working on something, but on what?
About an hour later, Carter emerged from the shed and made his way back into the house. He’d only been inside for a few moments before he reappeared in the front room and once again settled down in the armchair.
William was beginning to understand what Jackie had meant when she’d said there would be endless hours of tedium, with little to show for it. He’d only spent a couple of hours keeping an eye on Carter and he was already bored. When Carter dozed off in his armchair, William felt like doing the same.
The door behind him opened a second time and he turned round to see Jackie, holding a carrier bag.
“Seen anything worth reporting?” she asked, as she stared at a plate of biscuit crumbs.
“Carter left the house to go into his shed, and spent an hour there. I think he was working on something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.”
“Then it will be our job to find out tomorrow. I’ve briefed the local intelligence officer on what we’re up to. Good lad, if a little sensitive about the Met straying onto his patch without warning. He’s well aware of Carter’s past record in fact, he’s a pro now. But to date he’s given him no trouble. A model citizen in fact. He does a bit of engraving for one or two of the local schools and sports clubs, although he claims he’s retired.”
“‘Criminals never retire,’” said William, “‘they just get more cunning.’”
“The Hawk?”
“No, Fred Yates. So, are you going to take over up here, while I go down and have a closer look?”
“Sure. If Carter comes out of the house, follow him. But if he drops into his local, don’t join him. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“And when do you want me to come back?”
“Around midnight, then you can catch some sleep while I do the night shift. I left some sandwiches in the car for you, but now I wish I’d eaten them,” said Jackie, once again glaring at the biscuit crumbs.
“Sorry,” said William. “I’m sure there must be something in the fridge.”
“Which will only be added to our bill, and I don’t have to remind you, detective constable, that we’re not on holiday.”
William slipped out of the room, drove back into town, and parked between two cars on the far side of Mulberry Avenue, from where he had a clear view of the house. Just after eleven, he saw the light on the ground floor go off and moments later an upstairs light was switched on. Twenty minutes later the house was in complete darkness.
He took his time munching the sandwiches, feeling more guilty with every bite. Fearing he would fall asleep, he tried various ways of staying awake, including reciting Tennyson’s Morte d’Arthur, singing “Nessun Dorma” out of tune, and recalling the top ten Test batting averages of all time—Bradman 99.94, Pollock 60.97, Headley …
At midnight, he drove back to the hotel to find Jackie already up and ready to take his place.
“Anything of interest?” she asked.
“He watched television, had supper, watched some more TV, and went upstairs to bed just after eleven. Twenty minutes later the lights went out.”
“It doesn’t get much better than that,” said Jackie. “And the midnight shift is by far the worst one. It’s so easy to fall asleep, and if you do, you can be sure that