Ross had come across many grieving widows over the years, and he wasn’t in any doubt that Mrs Pugh’s tears were genuine, which took him by surprise. Was it possible she really had loved that odious creature? Perhaps she would have felt differently had she known it should have been her, not him, being whisked off to the morgue. As the ambulance drove off, he strolled across to the reception desk to pick up his key.

‘You have a message,’ said the receptionist.

He unfolded the little slip of paper, and after reading it he said under his breath, ‘You’re good, choirboy. Very good.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said the receptionist.

‘Can you tell me the time of the next flight to London?’

‘The first flight in the morning is at nine o’clock,’ she said, before glancing at her watch. ‘But if you were to hurry, sir, you might just catch the red-eye which leaves in a couple of hours.’

‘Please have my bill ready, and book me one business-class seat on that flight. I’ll also need a taxi to take me to the airport.’

Ross bounded up the stairs to the third floor, where he quickly opened his door and began throwing all his possessions into his suitcase, before he ran back down to reception and paid his bill. A porter put his bag into the boot of a waiting taxi, its engine turning over. The promise of a hundred-rand tip if he made it to the airport in time ensured that the driver ignored every speed limit. Ross was the last person to board the plane that night.

‘Will you be wanting dinner tonight, sir?’ asked the steward, once they’d taken off.

‘No, thank you,’ said Ross. ‘Just a pair of eyeshades.’

‘Of course, sir.’

As there wasn’t a Larry T. Holbrooke the Third seated next to him, Ross looked forward to a good night’s sleep. He should be back in time to have breakfast with Jimmy the dip at the Putney Bridge Café, before reporting to Chief Inspector Warwick at the Yard. He could only wonder how much the choirboy already knew.

CHAPTER 28

‘ARE YOU PC PLOD?’ ASKED Peter, when Juan came down for breakfast the following morning.

‘No,’ said Juan, taking a seat opposite the twins. ‘My youngest daughter tells me I’m not as clever as PC Plod, because I don’t solve every one of my cases immediately. She thinks I’m more like Inspector Watchit.’

Artemisia giggled, as Beth placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of their guest.

‘My father will be jealous when I tell him what I had for breakfast this morning,’ said Juan, picking up his knife and fork.

‘Doesn’t your daddy have breakfast?’ asked Artemisia.

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ said William.

‘Who stole the pearl necklace?’ asked Peter.

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Juan.

‘We’ll find out when Daddy gets back tonight and reads us the last chapter,’ said Artemisia.

‘If Daddy gets back tonight,’ said William as the phone in the hall began to ring.