Read Online Cherringham--Thick as Thieves by Neil Richards - Free Book Online
Authors: Neil Richards
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sailed out of the Ploughman’s.
14. A Desperate Lady
Tony Standish looked up at the grandfather clock that sat in the front corner of his office, next to two large windows that overlooked the High Street.
“She did say she’d be here at three o’clock sharp.”
Sarah nodded. “Not to worry. I’m way ahead on deadlines for a change. I can wait.”
Standish got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked out.
The estimable Lady Repton had agreed to meet, but insisted it be at her solicitor’s office, Tony Standish Esq — which was fine since Sarah trusted Tony implicitly.
Cherringham felt like a better place with a lawyer like Tony watching her back.
Funny though … she knew so little about his life, and he knew everything about hers, her parents, kids …
He looked down to the street, pulling aside the net curtain.
“Ah, there’s her taxi. No driver, sadly. Those days are over.”
He turned back to Sarah.
“Been a difficult time for her. Cutting back, and all that–”
“I imagine.”
Standish’s receptionist knocked, and then opened the door to his office.
“Mr Standish, Lady Repton is here.”
Tony nodded, keeping his position at the window, and then Lady Repton walked in.
Her cane punctuated every step with a sharp clack on the wood floor until she reached the thick plush Persian carpet, a crimson sea that surrounded Tony’s desk and chairs for clients.
Lady Repton barely shot Sarah a nod as she made a surprisingly quick beeline for one of the chairs.
“Some tea, if you don’t mind, Standish.”
“Absolutely. Sarah?”
“I’m fine, Tony.”
Repton snorted at that. Whether at Sarah’s refusing a perfectly good cup of tea in the afternoon or calling her solicitor ’Tony’, Sarah didn’t know.
Once tea had been brought in, Tony offered to take the lead starting the meeting.
“Lady Repton, as you know Sarah, who is also a client, has been–”
“Oh, do get on with it. I’m not getting any younger, Standish. Let’s cut to — what do the young people, say — the chase.”
Lady Repton took a sip of the tea, both saucer and cup held perfectly, in a way they must have been drilled into young debutantes decades ago.
A century ago!
“Precisely. Sarah?”
Standish turned to Sarah, passing the ball.
Lady Repton kept her eyes locked, looking forward as Sarah began.
“Lady Repton, I have been working with Mr Jack Brennan to see if we can learn anything about the plate that was stolen.”
Repton shook her head in a move that screamed ’now I’ve heard everything’.
“Amateur detectives,” Lady Repton said.
Another shake of her head.
Sarah was tempted to tell this old … woman … that the two of them had had a good degree of success, and Jack was anything but an amateur. But she felt holding her tongue might better serve the cause here.
“I’d like to review with you the events of that morning.”
Now the turret of Lady Repton’s head turned, and with a slight angle adjustment, the lowering of her chin, she addressed and looked at Sarah squarely.
“The plate, worth a fortune, was stolen . Or did you not read your own pithy description of the event in that thing you publish.”
“I know, Lady Repton. But did you notice anything else? Did anyone seem suspicious? Anyone there you think might have wanted to steal the plate?”
At that Lady Repton produced a loud ’ha’. “Maybe that dotty professor. I mean, it was his safe after all.”
“But the police saw signs of the break-in. Other valuable things were stolen.”
“Pish-posh. Right. And I have had it explained to me that the item is impossible to sell. Tremendous value, but if you are not dealing with the British Museum, virtually worthless.”
“I’ve been told that as well.”
And in that moment with Lady Repton’s clear eyes locked on hers, Sarah realised that they both had the same thought.
Everyone is saying that it is impossible to sell. Nobody could buy it.
But was that
14. A Desperate Lady
Tony Standish looked up at the grandfather clock that sat in the front corner of his office, next to two large windows that overlooked the High Street.
“She did say she’d be here at three o’clock sharp.”
Sarah nodded. “Not to worry. I’m way ahead on deadlines for a change. I can wait.”
Standish got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked out.
The estimable Lady Repton had agreed to meet, but insisted it be at her solicitor’s office, Tony Standish Esq — which was fine since Sarah trusted Tony implicitly.
Cherringham felt like a better place with a lawyer like Tony watching her back.
Funny though … she knew so little about his life, and he knew everything about hers, her parents, kids …
He looked down to the street, pulling aside the net curtain.
“Ah, there’s her taxi. No driver, sadly. Those days are over.”
He turned back to Sarah.
“Been a difficult time for her. Cutting back, and all that–”
“I imagine.”
Standish’s receptionist knocked, and then opened the door to his office.
“Mr Standish, Lady Repton is here.”
Tony nodded, keeping his position at the window, and then Lady Repton walked in.
Her cane punctuated every step with a sharp clack on the wood floor until she reached the thick plush Persian carpet, a crimson sea that surrounded Tony’s desk and chairs for clients.
Lady Repton barely shot Sarah a nod as she made a surprisingly quick beeline for one of the chairs.
“Some tea, if you don’t mind, Standish.”
“Absolutely. Sarah?”
“I’m fine, Tony.”
Repton snorted at that. Whether at Sarah’s refusing a perfectly good cup of tea in the afternoon or calling her solicitor ’Tony’, Sarah didn’t know.
Once tea had been brought in, Tony offered to take the lead starting the meeting.
“Lady Repton, as you know Sarah, who is also a client, has been–”
“Oh, do get on with it. I’m not getting any younger, Standish. Let’s cut to — what do the young people, say — the chase.”
Lady Repton took a sip of the tea, both saucer and cup held perfectly, in a way they must have been drilled into young debutantes decades ago.
A century ago!
“Precisely. Sarah?”
Standish turned to Sarah, passing the ball.
Lady Repton kept her eyes locked, looking forward as Sarah began.
“Lady Repton, I have been working with Mr Jack Brennan to see if we can learn anything about the plate that was stolen.”
Repton shook her head in a move that screamed ’now I’ve heard everything’.
“Amateur detectives,” Lady Repton said.
Another shake of her head.
Sarah was tempted to tell this old … woman … that the two of them had had a good degree of success, and Jack was anything but an amateur. But she felt holding her tongue might better serve the cause here.
“I’d like to review with you the events of that morning.”
Now the turret of Lady Repton’s head turned, and with a slight angle adjustment, the lowering of her chin, she addressed and looked at Sarah squarely.
“The plate, worth a fortune, was stolen . Or did you not read your own pithy description of the event in that thing you publish.”
“I know, Lady Repton. But did you notice anything else? Did anyone seem suspicious? Anyone there you think might have wanted to steal the plate?”
At that Lady Repton produced a loud ’ha’. “Maybe that dotty professor. I mean, it was his safe after all.”
“But the police saw signs of the break-in. Other valuable things were stolen.”
“Pish-posh. Right. And I have had it explained to me that the item is impossible to sell. Tremendous value, but if you are not dealing with the British Museum, virtually worthless.”
“I’ve been told that as well.”
And in that moment with Lady Repton’s clear eyes locked on hers, Sarah realised that they both had the same thought.
Everyone is saying that it is impossible to sell. Nobody could buy it.
But was that
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