The Norfolk Probationer, Page 2

Catrin had been called to Inspector Marshall’s office earlier that afternoon on the seventh floor at New Scotland Yard. As she headed over a young man in a suit walking with a uniformed PC beside him came towards her. They intersected at Detective Inspector Keith Marshall’s open doorway.

  “Catrin Gwendolyn Sayer?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Catrin, realising exactly what was happening when he used her middle name. She was receiving a court summons, a subpoena to appear.

  He passed over the document. “You have been served.” He turned and headed back, his chaperone in tow.

  Catrin looked at Keith who just said, “You had better open it.”

  Catrin read the notice. “The High Court of the Judiciary, Glasgow.” she said.

  Her voice took on a new note, one of disbelief, “I am called next Wednesday as a witness. It’s the McGuire case. By the defense, I can’t believe it.”

  Marshall said, “I just had a call from McLean in the Procurator Fiscal’s office, so I can. The Crown Prosecutor can’t prep you for this – you are a defense witness – but he doubts the defense brief will do so either, they will treat you as hostile from the get-go. But McLean and I will talk more and then you and I can talk. I am seeing Jack about it in fifteen minutes. He won’t be too pleased either.”

  Superintendent Jack Taylor had formed the Art Crime Unit as part of the Serious Crime Command four years ago. Its role complemented, some would say, the role of the major art criminal investigation unit in the United Kingdom, the Met’s Art & Antiques Unit which was part of another major group, Specialist Crime Command. Others were less generous about the little team, which had to work between the sensitivities of A&A and the police services in other regions of the country.

  “We can talk afterwards. Catrin, but it’s not why I called you in so put it on one side for a moment. Let’s sit down.”

  She entered his office and sat across from his desk, trying to clear her mind of this bombshell. He pulled over a pad he had been writing on.

  “This morning a robbery occurred in Norfolk at a National Trust property, Halsting Hall. A Canaletto and two other paintings were taken and two seniors, visitors to the property, were hurt. They are in hospital now. Not badly injured, I gather, but the woman was in a wheelchair. She has cancer, diagnosed some months ago. The media are starting to pick it up and the outrage will grow.

  “The woman said that one of the assailants had a circle, a blue tattoo circle, on the right side of his neck; she saw the top part of it.”

  Catrin nodded. Now she understood why Keith had told her to focus.

  “Do you have an overnight bag here?” he asked.

  Each of the officers in the Art Crime Unit were expected to have a travel bag available to cover them for a day or so; their work could take them out of London at a moment’s notice.

  “Yes, I am ready to go.”

  “Aina is checking train arrangements from Liverpool Street. You will be First Class to Norwich on the Abeillo train, but there is no dinner on board, just sandwiches and snacks, be aware. A uniform will meet you at Norwich Station.”

  Aina Jinnah was their information and file officer who had also developed expertise on all manner of travel arrangements.

  “Now, just as I have dumped this on you, you have about ten minutes, I suspect, to delegate whatever you are doing urgently on to John. Delegation, Catrin, remember, delegation. Get going and call me from the train.”