The Winter Visitor by Henry James

Author:Henry, James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus Publishing
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

PART 3

Chapter 40

Watt folded the paper and tossed to it to the floor dissatisfied. County were aware of the national newspaper headlines. It was only the News of the World the day before – now a far more detailed report had appeared in The Times, rehashing Chloe Hopkins’ story and adding a full recap on the 1984 Crouch episode, including Hopkins and Hart evading prosecution. The Express carried a picture of Watt’s predecessor, a grizzled old bastard by the name of Sparks, who happened to be in the right place at the right time – the Contented Sole in Burnham-­on-­Crouch – and had foiled the smugglers.

Castleton had telephoned twice for a progress report. He didn’t answer the first call.

Philips dumped a pile of newspapers from the last few days unceremoniously on his desk.

‘Don’t just leave them there like that. Find the relevant report.’

Philips, unperturbed by his superior’s tone, pulled out a chair and set to it.

The piece in the paper glorified the case; why hadn’t he had Hopkins’ history in full from Kenton? Why had he resorted to scouring the press?

‘The wife is all they have to go on, and she, it seems, was a little naive, took the suave Hopkins on face value,’ Philips said, licking his forefinger and slowly paging through the Guardian distastefully. ‘Had she – or the parents for that matter – bothered to see beneath the veneer, I’m sure it would have been obvious. We won’t find anything leafing through this garbage.’

‘Unlike you to side with CID,’ Watt said suspiciously.

‘Hardly. That’s all there is to it.’

‘Tell me, as you know so much; can detectives be done for speeding?’ He genuinely didn’t know. Castleton had mentioned this – to the desk sergeant.

‘Anyone can be done for speeding, sir.’

He thought again it a wise precaution to put Wilde onto them. She had her head screwed on, of that he was sure.

‘They were poking about in the Reverend’s affairs, as you wished,’ Philips continued, holding another paper open on his lap.

Watt studied his well-­groomed number two, who appeared to be reading an article. ‘Hmm, the Reverend’s roof, intriguing though it may be, is not high priority. What the good vicar got up to in his youth really is no concern of ours – whereas Hopkins’ past is.’

‘An old chum topped himself, you’re overlooking that.’

‘These things happen. Public school masters are an odd bunch. Complicated souls . . .’ Watt drifted off in thought. ‘It’s odd, I’ll grant you, but that’s not where our efforts will best be rewarded,’ he said, reminded of crime stats.

‘But sir, you did push them both in that direction,’ Philips said.

‘At the behest of County, Philips – however, the powers that be will not be anticipating a line of enquiry bouncing back to them . . .’ One funny look from Brazier in the wrong quarters and Watt’s chances of getting back in with County would be scuppered in an instant. His policy was simple; accept his lot in Neanderthal Colchester and either remain

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