Find the Lady Read Free

could arrest you for assault with a deadly weapon.’
    ‘Don’t get too cocky, old chum. That ain’t a pukkha gun you’re waving about there, and it ain’t loaded. And if you ain’t a copper, what do you want mooching round hereabouts?’
    ‘I ain’t – I’m not a policeman.’
    He took a step back from the man and fumbled for the safety catch. It couldn’t be moved. It wasn’t movable. He depressed a catch and the cartridge holder came free; it weighed very little. It was made of plastic. He snorted and threw the replica at him.
    ‘Catch.’
    He caught it and put it in his pocket.
    ‘And if I couldn’t get you for assault with a deadly weapon,’ Spencer continued, ‘I’d look at your record and find something else I could book you for.’
    ‘If you’re not a copper, you couldn’t get to see my record.’
    ‘Maybe I could bribe a policeman to let me have a copy of it.’
    The young man stopped and looked at Spencer thoughtfully.
    ‘If you’re not a copper, you must be a private investigator.’
    ‘No.’
    Mystified, he said: ‘Here. What do you really want, then?’
    ‘Somebody who wants to earn a few hundred quid. Easy like.’
    ‘A few hundred?’
    Spencer shrugged.
    ‘Maybe a few thousand.’
    ‘I might be interested.’
    ‘I need a special kind of man. A man who maybe wouldn’t mind bending the rules a bit.’
    He grinned.
    ‘Might be able to do that.’
    ‘Somebody reliable. Somebody bold. Somebody who could pretend to be somebody he isn’t.’
    ‘What’s the catch, brudder?’
    ‘There’s no catch. You just have to do exactly what I tell you.’

CHAPTER TWO
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    C REESFORTH R OAD , B ROMERSLEY , S OUTH Y ORKSHIRE , U.K. 1400 HOURS . M ONDAY, 16 J ULY 2007 .
    T he taxi pulled up at a leafy, detached house on the expensive side of the town. The sun was shining. The sky was blue and cloudless and yet the birds weren’t singing; in fact, there was an eerie quiet, as if time was suspended.
    A chubby woman in a sundress, relaxing on a canvas chair, could be observed in her garden through the cupressus, applying cream to her arms and shoulders.
    ‘Number twenty-two, ma’am,’ the taxi driver said to his fare in the back. ‘That’s what you said, isn’t it, ma’am?’ he said.
    A figure in light blue, with a big straw hat affording shelter from the sun, and wearing Ashanti mirrored sunglasses answered him.
    ‘Twenty-two, the Beeches. Exactly so, my man. Is the fare the same as before?’ the high-pitched delicate voice enquired.
    The taxi driver had no idea what the customer might have paid before. ‘It’s six pounds, missis,’ he said irritably. ‘It’s allus six pounds from Wells Street Baths to Creesforth Road. You gotta cross town and it allus takes a lot of time, you know.’
    There was a click from the fastening of a handbag.
    ‘Oh yes. I understand. That’s quite all right.’
    The big long hand in the white glove shot over his shoulder waving a ten pound note.
    ‘Keep the change, my man.’
    The driver’s face brightened.
    ‘Oh thank you, ma’am,’ he said, swiftly thrusting the note into his trouser pocket with a big smile. ‘Now, do you want a hand with your bag?’
    The nearside door of the taxi opened and out came a long nylon-covered leg. ‘No thank you. Now, what’s your name?’
    ‘Bert Amersham, ma’am.’
    ‘Well now, Mr Amersham—’
    ‘Call me Bert, ma’am. I answers well enough to Bert.’
    ‘Well, Bert. I am Lady Cora Blessington. The time is exactly two o’clock. Now, you will collect me at three o’clock exactly, won’t you?’
    The taxi driver looked with more interest at the fare since he had received the handsome tip. She was not a handsome woman. Rather gawky, he thought, and the fluffy old-fashioned blue dress would have been more suited to a much younger woman.
    ‘I’ll be here on the button, ma’am. You can depend on it.’
    A man in a suit, white shirt and tie came through the front gate of the house next door. He saw the