Page 102 of End Game
Monday, 20 August
BY THE TIMEDANNY PULLED UPoutside number 37 Cadogan Place early the next morning, William had rehearsed his unwritten script more than a dozen times.
He got out of the car and made his way quickly up the steps to the front door. He knocked once and stood back. He was just about to knock a second time when the door opened.
‘Good morning, Mr Collins. My name is—’
‘I know who you are,’ snarled Collins, ‘and you’re wasting your time. Mr Faulkner is away and I’m not expecting him back for some time.’
Collins was about to slam the door when William said quietly, ‘Mr Faulkner won’t be coming back.’
Collins hesitated, a look of disbelief crossing his face, and it was some time before he recovered enough to say, ‘What do you mean, won’t be coming back?’
‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mr Collins,’ said William quietly, ‘but your employer is dead.’
‘That’s not possible,’ said Collins, ‘he had a business meeting yesterday evening with Mr Booth Watson and—’
‘Bernie Longe,’ said William.
Collins turned white and began to shake uncontrollably.
When he spoke again, he took William by surprise. ‘Won’t you come in, Commander?’ he said, his tone changing. He led William into the front room and offered him a seat, while he remained standing.
‘I’m afraid,’ said William, ‘that what I’m about to tell you will make you very angry.’
Collins stiffened, but the shaking had stopped.
‘Mr Faulkner has been murdered,’ he said quietly.
‘Murdered?’ repeated Collins. ‘By who?’
‘Bernie Longe and two of his thugs,’ replied William.
The shaking began again, but this time caused by rage. ‘I warned the boss Longe wasn’t to be trusted and he shouldn’t go to the stadium without me, but …’ He suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, before he added, ‘But Mr Booth Watson was with him, so he must have witnessed the murder?’ said Collins.
‘Yes, he did,’ said William, ‘but he quickly switched sides to save his own skin.’
It was some time before Collins delivered his next sentence, very quietly, ‘Well, I don’t switch sides quite that easily, Commander Warwick, so you can count on me to do anything I can to put those bastards behind bars, Booth Watson included.’
‘Anything?’ said William.
‘Anything,’ repeated Collins firmly.
‘When the case comes to court, will you—’
‘Give evidence on behalf of the Crown?’ said Collins.
William waited for his response.
‘When I said anything, I meant anything.’
William changed tack. ‘I believe Mr Faulkner made a Will quite recently,’ said William. ‘I’d like to get my hands on it before Mr Booth Watson can rewrite it.’
‘The original is in the safe, Mr Warwick, but I’m not allowed to open it without Mr Faulkner’s permission …’ Collins stopped in mid-sentence and then left the room without another word.
While William waited for him to return, his thoughts turned to Beth, who’d looked incredulous when he’d explained over breakfast why he’d run out of the room the night before while she was still packing for their holiday. He’d promised to make it up to her. His thoughts moved on to the only question Beth had asked: why was Ross alone when the murder took place, because Sinclair would be certain to ask the same question.
His thoughts were interrupted when Collins reappeared, carrying a thick cream parchment tied with red ribbon, which he handed to William.
