The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [214]
I nodded, not wishing to interrupt him.
“Williams flew out to Cannes on Wednesday, and he’s holed up in the nearest village, posing as a tourist. He’s already been able to tell us that Ms. Kershaw’s house is surrounded by a ten-foot stone wall, and she has more guard dogs than trees. It seems the locals know even less about her than we do. But at least it’s a start.”
I felt for the first time that Jeremy Alexander might at last have met his match, but it was to be another five Sundays, and five more interim reports, before a thin smile appeared on Hackett’s usually tight-lipped face.
“Ms. Kershaw has placed an advertisement in the local paper,” he informed me. “It seems she’s in need of a new butler. At first I thought we should question the old butler at length as soon as he’d left, but as I couldn’t risk anything getting back to her, I decided Inspector Williams would have to apply for his job instead.”
“But surely she’ll realize within moments that he’s totally unqualified to do the job.”
“Not necessarily,” said Hackett, his smile broadening. “You see, Williams won’t be able to leave his present employment with the Countess of Rutland until he’s served a full month’s notice, and in the meantime we’ve signed him up for a special six-week course at Ivor Spencer’s School for Butlers. Williams has always been a quick learner.”
“But what about references?”
“By the time Rosemary Kershaw interviews him, he’ll have a set of references that would impress a duchess.”
“I was told you never did anything underhand.”
“That is the case when I’m dealing with honest people, Mr. Cooper. Not when I’m up against a couple of crooks like this. I’m going to get those two behind bars, if it’s the last thing I do.”
This was not the time to let Hackett know that the final chapter of this story, as I plotted it, did not conclude with Jeremy ending up in jail.
Once Williams had been put on the shortlist for the position of Rosemary’s butler, I played my own small part in securing him the job. Rereading over the terms of the proposed contract gave me the idea.
“Tell Williams to ask for fifteen thousand francs a month, and five weeks’ holiday,” I suggested to Hackett when he and Matthew visited me the following Sunday.
“Why?” asked the ex—chief superintendent. “She’s only offering eleven thousand, and three weeks’ holiday.”
“She can well afford to pay the difference, and with references like these,” I said, looking back down at my file, “she might become suspicious if he asked for anything less.”
Matthew smiled and nodded.
Rosemary finally offered Williams the job at thirteen thousand francs a month, with four weeks’ holiday a year, which, after forty-eight hours’ consideration, Williams accepted. But he did not join her for another month, by which time he had learned how to iron newspapers, lay place settings with a ruler, and tell the difference between a port, sherry, and liqueur glass.
I suppose that from the moment Williams took up the job as Rosemary’s butler, I expected instant results. But as Hackett pointed out to me Sunday after Sunday, this was hardly realistic.
“Williams has to take his time,” explained the Don. “He needs to gain her confidence, and avoid giving her any reason for the slightest suspicion. It once took me five years to nail a drug smuggler who was only living half a mile up the road from me.”
I wanted to remind him that it was me who was stuck in jail, and that five days was more like what I had in mind, but I knew how hard they were all working on my behalf, and tried not to