Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(2)

William laughed at the young man, who clearly didn’t suffer from self-doubt.

‘And you, sir,’ said James, sounding more relaxed, ‘are you destined to become the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police?’ William hesitated again. ‘Clearly, you think it’s a possibility,’ James continued before he could reply. ‘May I ask you another question?’

‘I can’t imagine what would stop you.’

‘What do you consider are the most important qualities needed to be a first-class detective?’

William gave the question some thought before he responded. ‘A natural curiosity,’ he eventually said. ‘So you immediately spot something that doesn’t feel quite right.’

James took a pen from an inside pocket and began writing William’s words down on the back of the Alden Daily News.

‘You must also be able to ask the relevant questions of suspects, witnesses and colleagues. Avoid making assumptions. And above all, you have to be patient. Which is why women often make better police officers than men. Finally, you must be able to use all your senses – sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste.’

‘I’m not sure I fully understand,’ said James.

‘That must be a first,’ William replied, immediately regretting his words, although the young man laughed for the first time. ‘Close your eyes,’ said William. He waited for a moment before saying, ‘Describe me.’

The young man took his time before replying. ‘You’re thirty, thirty-five at most, a shade over six foot, fair hair, blue eyes, around a hundred and seventy pounds, fit, but not as fit as you used to be, and you’ve suffered a serious shoulder injury at some time in the past.’

‘What makes you think I’m not as fit as I used to be?’ said William defensively.

‘You’re about six or seven pounds overweight, and, as this is the first day of the voyage, you can’t blame the never-ending meals they serve on board ships.’

William frowned. ‘And the injury?’

‘The top two buttons of your shirt are undone, and when you leant forward to shake hands, I noticed a faded scar just below your left shoulder.’

William thought as he so often did, about his mentor, Constable Fred Yates, who had saved his life only to sacrifice his own. Police work wasn’t always as romantic as some authors would have you believe. He moved quickly on. ‘What book am I reading?’

‘Watership Down by Richard Adams. And before you ask, you’re on page hundred and forty-three.’

‘And my clothes, what do they tell you?’

‘I admit,’ said James, ‘I found that a bit of a mystery. It would take me several subtle questions before I came up with an answer, and then only if you told the truth.’

‘Let’s assume I’m a criminal who won’t answer your questions until I’ve phoned my legal representative.’

James hesitated for a moment before he said, ‘That in itself would be a clue.’

‘Why?’

‘It would suggest you’ve been in trouble with the law before, and if you know the telephone number of your lawyer, you certainly have.’

‘OK. Let’s assume I don’t have a lawyer, but I’ve watched enough TV programmes to know I needn’t answer any of your questions. What have you been able to work out without asking me any questions?’

‘Your clothes aren’t expensive, probably bought off the rack, yet you’re travelling first class.’

‘What do you deduce from that?’

‘You’re wearing a wedding ring, so you could have a rich wife. Or perhaps you’re on a special assignment.’

‘Neither,’ said William. ‘That’s where observation ends, and detection begins. But not bad.’

The young man opened his eyes and smiled. ‘My turn, I think, sir. Please close your eyes.’

William looked surprised, but continued with the game.

‘Describe me.’

‘Bright, self-assured, but insecure.’

‘Insecure?’

‘You may be top of the class, but you’re still desperate to impress.’

‘What am I wearing?’ asked James.

‘A white button-down cotton shirt, possibly Brooks Brothers. Dark blue shorts, white cotton socks and Puma trainers, though you rarely, if ever, visit a gym.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘I noticed when you walked towards me that your feet were splayed. If you were an athlete, they’d be in a straight line. If you doubt me, check the footprints of an Olympic runner on a cinder track.’

‘Any distinguishing marks?’

‘You have a tiny birthmark just below your left ear that you’ve tried to hide by growing your hair, although that will have to be cut short when you join the FBI.’

‘Describe the picture behind me.’

‘A black and white photo of this ship, the Alden, sailing out of New York harbour on May twenty-third, 1977. It’s being accompanied by a flotilla, which suggests it was on its maiden voyage.’

‘Why’s it named the Alden?’

‘That isn’t a test of observation,’ said William, ‘but of knowledge. If I needed to know the answer to that question, I could always find out later. First impressions are often misleading, so assume nothing. But if I had to guess, and you shouldn’t as a detective, as this ship is part of the Pilgrim Line, I’d say that Alden was the name of one of the original pilgrims who set sail from Plymouth to America on the Mayflower in 1620.’