Dead Man's Time

animated. ‘This was made by a true craftsman. There’s nobody today could make something like this.’ Then his mood reverted to anger once more. ‘So, would you mind
telling me exactly what you are insinuating?’
    ‘Well, let’s take Ricky Moore. Your sister was tortured, hideously, with cigarettes and heated curling tongs. The night after she died, Moore was kidnapped and tortured with a hot
instrument.’ Grace raised his arms and smiled disarmingly. ‘Bit of a coincidence, but perhaps no more than that. Then your son went to Marbella the following Friday and just days later,
two bodies were found. Their time of death is estimated by our Spanish police colleagues at between Friday night and sometime on Saturday.’ Grace picked up his cup, blew on the coffee, and
drank some more.
    ‘And just what the hell does that have to do with Lucas?’
    ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me, sir.’
    ‘I told you, we rarely speak.’
    Grace put his cup down, then pointed at the bust of T. E. Lawrence. He recognized him because Cleo had been studying Lawrence for her Open University degree in philosophy, and had encouraged him
to read some of his writings. ‘You have him there for a reason, I presume?’
    ‘I have all of them for one reason. They were great Irishmen whose works I admire.’
    ‘Then you’ll remember something Lawrence once said: “To have news value is to have a tin cat tied to one’s tail.” ’
    Daly frowned. ‘Actually, I don’t remember that. What in hell does that mean?’
    ‘It means I can hear the sound of your son clanking every time you move, Mr Daly.’
    Daly stood up, his face flushed with rage. He pointed at the door. ‘Out, Mr Grace – Detective Superintendent or whatever your damned rank. Out! If you want to speak to me or my son
again, I’ll give you the number of my solicitor.’
    ‘Mind if I finish my coffee first?’
    ‘Yes, actually I do. Just get the hell out of my house, and don’t bother to come back without a warrant.’
    The housekeeper let Roy Grace out through the front door. He thanked her for the coffee, and walked across the gravel towards his car with a smile on his face. He was leaving with a lot more
than he had dared to hope for.

67
    ‘They’re nineteenth century,’ Lucas Daly said to the two quiet, polite Chinese dealers in business suits, to whom he had sold items previously, pointing at
the pair of baluster-shaped Chinese vases. The Chinese and Japanese were among the few people who still spent good money on antiques these days.
    ‘Cantonese.’ He pointed at the panels of Oriental figures. ‘Quite exquisite! We acquired them from the home of the Duke of Sussex – he was forced recently to sell off
some heirlooms to pay for maintenance of his stately home. We understand from him that these were bought in Canton by his great-great-grandfather, who helped John Nash with many of his acquisitions
for the Royal Pavilion. They’re really exceptional pieces, I think you’ll agree.’
    There was no Duke of Sussex. He’d bought them from a local fence, Lester Stork, no questions asked, for one hundred pounds.
    ‘How much?’ asked one of them.
    ‘Two thousand five hundred for them both. Very rare to find a pair in such good condition, you see—’
    ‘Lucas?’ His assistant, Dennis Cooper, who had on an even more hideous Hawaiian shirt than normal, interrupted him.
    ‘I’m busy.’
    ‘It’s your father. Says it’s urgent!’
    ‘Tell him I’m with important customers.’
    When he turned back, the two Chinamen were walking towards the door.
    ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Hey! Make me an offer!’
    ‘Don’t like your face,’ the one he had been talking to said.
    ‘Fuck you!’ he shouted back, as the door closed behind them.
    Dennis Cooper wheeled his chair over and held the phone out to him. He snatched it, angrily, from his hand. ‘I’m busy, Dad.’
    ‘You twat!’ Gavin Daly said. ‘You absolute bloody idiot. You were meant to get information from them, not kill them.’
    Lowering his voice and moving further away from his assistant, Lucas Daly replied, ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I told you to go to Marbella to find out where the watch is. I didn’t tell you to kill anybody. What the hell did you think you were doing? Why did you kill them? I want my watch
back. I don’t want blood on my hands.’
    ‘I didn’t kill anyone.’
    ‘No? So how come the bodies of Tony Macario and Ken Barnes were found floating in