15

I could get used to being waited on hand and foot at breakfast. What I couldn't handle is the early rising that seems to go hand in hand with business briefings over the bacon butties. The following morning, I was back in the dining room of the Portland at Josh's invitation. 'I've got someone I want you to meet,' he'd said mysteriously on the phone, refusing to be drawn further.

I approached with caution, since I could see Josh's companion was a woman. I hoped he hadn't dragged me out of bed to tell me he was getting married. That was news I couldn't handle on an empty stomach. I saw Josh spot me and say something to his companion, who glanced over her shoulder at me. She didn't look Josh's type. For a start, she looked in her middle thirties, which made her at least ten years too old. The most striking thing about her was her hair, the colour of polished conkers, hanging down her back in a thick plait.

When I reached the table, Josh half-stood and said, 'Kate! I'm glad you could make it. Delia, this is Kate Brannigan, the private investigator I told you about.'

A potential client, then, I thought. I smiled. Josh continued, 'Kate, this is Detective Chief Inspector Delia Prentice. She's just been transferred to the Regional Crime Squad. We were at Cambridge together, and I thought the pair of you ought to meet.'

I tried not to look as gobsmacked as I felt. There aren't a lot of women who make it to the rank of DO, especially not at the sharp end of crime. Delia Prentice smiled and extended her hand. 'Pleased to meet you, Kate,' she said. 'At the risk of making your heart sink, Josh has told me a lot about you.'

'I wish I could say the same about you,' I replied, shaking a dry, firm hand. I sat down with a bit of a bump. I didn't expect to be dragged out of bed at sparrowfart to meet a copper. Especially not a ranking woman officer. I gave her the quick once-over. Deep-set greenish eyes, good skin, the kind of strong bones that look lumpy in teenagers but become more attractive with every year that passes after the age of thirty.

'He tries to keep me under wraps because I know where the bodies are buried,' she said, as she gave me the same scrutiny. 'I could tell you a tale…'

Josh cleared his throat and said hastily, 'Delia's something of an expert in the kind of fraud you seem to be dealing with in your conservatory case,' he said. 'I rather thought she might be of some help to you.'

'I've just done eighteen months with the West Yorkshire Fraud Squad,' Delia said. 'Now I've been transferred to the RCS to be the operational head of a fraud task force.'

'How are you finding it?' I asked.

'It's always a bit of an uphill struggle, learning to work with a new team.' Of course. She wouldn't have climbed that far up the ladder if she hadn't been something of a diplomat.

'Made five times worse because you're a woman?' I asked.

'Something like that.'

'I can imagine. Plenty of that dumb insolence, literal interpretation of orders and no respect till they decide you've earned it.'

Delia's twisted smile said it all. 'What we're doing is working with banks and other financial institutions on the kind of small-scale fraud that doesn't warrant the attentions of the Serious Fraud Office. Usually, it involves forgery or the kind of deception where people assume someone else's identity for the purposes of obtaining goods or cash.'

'At the risk of sounding like the punters I meet at parties, that must be fascinating,' I said.

She smiled. 'It can be very satisfying to put together the pieces of the jigsaw.'

'Yes, you get a better class of villain in your line of work than your colleagues who get lumbered with the ram raiders and the drug dealers,' I said. 'For me, it's a little out of the usual run of things. I'm more accustomed to poking about in computers' memories than fronting people up.'

Delia leaned back in her chair. 'Now, that really must be fascinating. No, I mean it. I'd love to have the time to learn more about computers. Mind if I smoke?' I shook my head. She took out a pack of Silk Cut and a Zippo lighter. As she lit up she said, 'Josh tells me you've got a problem with defaulting mortgagees. Maybe we could do each other a bit of good here. I might be able to shed some light for you and, frankly, if you can stand it up, I could really use the collar.'

I liked Delia Prentice's candour. And she came vouched for by Josh, which in my book was the seal of professionalism. So I took a deep breath and said, This is off the record. Agreed?' I had no authority from Ted to involve the police. Added to which, as yet, I had no real evidence that a crime had been committed, only a lot of circumstantial coincidences.

A waitress appeared and we ordered our breakfasts before Delia could reply. When she'd gone, she said, 'Off the record.'

I gave Delia the bare bones. To her credit, she heard me out in silence. Most of the questions she asked afterwards were sensible and to the point, just as I'd expected. The banks have got their own investigators, you know,' she said at last. 'I'm surprised they haven't been digging around in this one themselves.'

T don't know that they haven't been,' I said. 'But if they have, they've been going at it from a different angle. They're probably trying to prove Ted Barlow is bent, whereas I'm trying to establish the exact opposite.'

She nodded. 'I don't mean to sound like I'm teaching you to suck eggs, but I suppose you have considered that your client might be at it?'

'It was the first thing I thought of. But people who know him say he lacks the imagination or the inclination to be that bent. Besides, he's telling the truth about the missing conservatories. Even I can see they were installed originally, and if he was behind it himself, he wouldn't have to bother with that,' I explained.

Delia considered while she lit another cigarette. Then she said, 'He might have been doing that to cover his own back when it all came on top. And who better than him to find a new home for the conservatories? After all, he could just recycle them. And he could simply be employing you to make it look good to the bank – and to us, if we're called in eventually by the bank's security crew.'

I shook my head. 'It's not Ted. I know it's possible to find an explanation that points the finger at him. But the clincher for me is that he just doesn't match the descriptions I've got of the man who spends the night at these houses.'

'It's an unusual one, Kate,' she said. 'Very unusual. But if it really is a scam that's being pulled by one or two people rather than a string of coincidences, then they must have cleared a lot of cash by now.'

'Over half a million after expenses, by my estimates,' I said calmly. They probably can't believe their luck. If I was them, I'd be planning to pull out before the shit hit the fan.'

'How do you know they haven't?' Delia asked.

'I don't. I'm banking on the fact that they haven't. That way, the next time they pull one, I can get on their tail while the trail's still warm.' Much as I liked Delia, I wasn't about to tell her that I thought I'd spotted the next target. I was perfectly happy for her to think I was playing a waiting game. It would keep the Regional Crime Squad off my back. Besides, I didn't want to get into a discussion on the subject of illegal phone taps. I hate the sound of people in glass houses throwing stones.

I scooped the last mouthful of scrambled egg on to a triangle of toast and managed to savour it, Delia being between cigarettes. 'Let me know how you get on. I'm really fascinated by the sound of this one. I'm sure we could help.' She took a card out of the jacket of her charcoal grey suit. 'And if they do seem to have done a runner, get in touch anyway. You never know, we might be able to put something together with what you've got.'