15. No Headway

Jack watched carefully from the forward deck of the Grey Goose as Daniel loosened the rope, pulled it back into the little rowing boat and took hold of the oars. Riley the dog sat patiently in the stern, unperturbed as the tiny craft bobbed from side to side, next to the barge.

"Don't forget now, Daniel - take a good look up and down river."

Daniel checked like he was crossing the road for the first time.

Which in a sense he is, thought Jack.

"Tell me this gets easier," said Sarah standing next to Jack, anxiously watching her eleven-year old son row solo for the first time.

"Nope," said Jack. "I can guarantee you that when Daniel is twenty-one you will still be peering over his shoulder ready to pick him up when he falls. Or at the very least, pick up his rent bill when he phones home to say he's broke."

"All clear!" said Daniel.

"Well then . off you go, kid," said Jack.

Daniel dipped both oars in the water, pulled, and headed away across the river with Riley to the far bank. The water was flat calm and Jack noticed the insects skimming over the surface.

Maybe get the rods out later, catch myself some supper.

"Nearly there, Dan," called Sarah, a warning tone in her voice.

"He knows what he's doing," said Jack.

And sure enough, Jack could see Daniel check his distance from the bank, ship his oars and gently float to a perfect rest up against the little jetty. The boy looped his rope round the post, tied it off then jumped up onto the opposite bank. Riley leaped after him.

"Nice work Daniel," called Jack. "Give us a shout when you're ready to come back."

Daniel gave a big grin and a thumbs-up.

"Come on Riley!" he shouted, and raced off into the meadows. Riley tore after him.

Jack turned to Sarah.

"Kid's a natural," he said. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

"I seem to remember you use the outboard these days Jack."

"Gotta watch I don't put my back out."

"Hmm. A likely story ."

Jack winked at her then pulled out one of the canvas chairs that leaned against the table and sat down, facing the river. Daniel and Riley were already halfway across the meadows. Jack had a sudden and surprising pang of memory of being that age, his dog at his side, walking through waist-high grass.

Funny how an image like that can ambush you, he thought.

Sarah pulled out another chair and sat next to him.

"So you think there's nothing more we can do," she said, not taking her eyes off her son, fast becoming a dot in the distance.

Jack knew it was the case she was talking about.

They'd already spent the morning going round in circles - all the while planning for Jack's little party in a week's time. And though that was pretty organised, the investigation was going nowhere fast.

"Short of a surprise confession - nope," said Jack.

But he could see she still wasn't going to settle for that.

"I remember you told me once that when you get a breakthrough, it's often something that you knew already, but you just hadn't realised the importance."

"True," said Jack. "It's usually some fact or piece of information you've kind of . misfiled. You know what I mean?"

"Exactly," said Sarah. "So maybe you've got one of those now?"

Jack considered this.

"Well ."

"Go on."

"One thing I do not get," said Jack. "The break-in. They tried the front door, then they smashed the back door. Now from what you told me about this art gang from that crime report - they're pros. And anyone who can open one of those Canon safes - well they can slip a door lock easy."

"Plus - would they really smash the glass in and leave it there?"

"Exactly," said Jack.

Jack watched as a group of swans flew past, just level with the deck of the Grey Goose and landed downstream.

"On the other hand," he said. "The way Cartwright left the combination out, it might be an amateur who just got lucky."

"Like Jerry?"

"Not impossible. My money's on Lady Repton."

Sarah laughed.

"Can't be her. You'd have heard her cane tapping from here. What about young Baz?"

"Not on his own - he was too drunk. If local reports are to be believed."

"Pete the Farmer?"

"Possible - though I'd hate it to be true."

"Which leaves the professor," said Sarah.

"And with him, like we said before - where's the motive?"

"You're right," said Sarah. "Everybody says it would be impossible to sell the plate anyway. So whoever stole it might have just thrown it away."

"Or melted it down."

"But I wonder if that's really true?" said Sarah. "What about those people you hear about who have incredible works of art all hidden away? They exist, don't they? It's possible to buy these things on the black market."

"True," said Jack. "In fact, I remember, a year or two back there was a guy in the States bought a T-Rex skull for a small fortune. Texan oil millionaire. Had it installed in his study. Just to look at all on his lonesome."

"So the Cherringham Plate could still be out there."

"It could. But you know what? Right now, I don't think we're going to find it."

Across the river, Riley jumped up onto the bank and barked a greeting. Jack could see Daniel, stick in hand, heading back too.

"Not unless we get lucky," he said with a shrug. But from the determined look on Sarah's face, he could see she wasn't going to let it go that easily.

Sarah had just finished editing a blood-curdling scream into the Victorian Hangman Feature on the Penton Prison website when there was a knock at the office door.

She looked over at Grace.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

Grace shook her head and walked over to the door. Pete Butterworth entered quickly. He nodded a hurried greeting to Sarah and went straight to the little window that looked down onto the village square.

Sarah looked at Grace.

"What the .?" she mouthed.

Grace shrugged again.

"Mr Butterworth - is there a problem?" she said, standing up from her chair.

"No, not a problem," he said, not taking his eyes from the street two storeys below.

Sarah joined him at the window.

"You look worried."

"Worried? No."

For a second his eyes flicked away from the street to hers - then he pressed his face to the glass again.

"You see the BMW - by the entrance to the village hall?"

Sarah looked down.

"The blue one - yes?"

"That's it," he said. "By the way - you can call me Pete."

"Nice to see you again, Pete."

"Hmm. Now don't take your eyes off the car - all right?"

"Absolutely. But are you going to tell me why?"

She saw Pete look over at Grace.

"Don't worry. Anything you were going to say to me, you can say in front of Grace."

He seemed to consider this for a few seconds, then relaxed.

"If you say so."

Sarah waited patiently.

"Go on then."

"Right. Well it's about the plate of course. The robbery."

Without taking his eyes off the street he launched into his story. And Sarah knew she and Jack were about to get lucky.

"Your friend - the American - when he came to the farm and spoke to me and Becky, well . I'm afraid we lied."

Pete looked away at this.

"He asked us what we did the night the robbery happened and we said we stayed in, went to bed early. But we didn't. Well - we did. At first. But I couldn't sleep. I was worried about the plate, you see. Worried that it wasn't safe at old Cartwright's place. So I got in the Land Rover and drove into the village. Parked out of the streetlights, just up from Cartwright's house. So I could keep an eye out, case anyone got ideas, know what I mean?"

Sarah knew exactly what he meant.

"In case Jerry and Baz decided to get the plate back?"

"Well. Yeah. Them - or worse still, some of their mates. I got a call from Billy down the Ploughman - he told me they were in there shooting their mouths off, all but giving Cartwright's address away. So naturally - I got worried. We need that money, see. We need it so badly."

Sarah knew she also needed to keep the momentum going.

"So what time was that?"

"When I got there? I don't know, about one-ish. Two maybe. Anyway, I'd only been there half an hour when Jerry himself turns up. Half pissed I reckon. He did a kind of walk-by outside Cartwright's house, all inconspicuous - then he...