‘That black eye trick of yours worked really well, sir’ said Brightwell, as they stood on the pavement outside Paddington Green police station.
Hawker grinned. ‘Yes, it did, didn’t it? Just as well he wasn’t wearing trousers.’
‘And it’s just as well he didn’t call your bluff.’
‘Who said I was bluffing…’
‘Oh!’
‘Cheer up Brightwell; it’s all in a good cause.’
‘Er, yes, sir … er, what next, sir?’
‘Now that we have Bertie safely under lock and key, all the little old ladies of London can sleep soundly in their beds but it doesn’t help us with the pawnshop job. So, while I stay on here and sort out the paperwork, you take the car and nip along to the hospital for the ambulance men’s fingerprints. Then drop in at Dr Greenslade’s on your way back here and ask the usual questions.’
‘What about Dr Greenslade’s fingerprints, sir?’
‘Get them if you can, but people can be a bit funny about it, and you may have to use all of your persuasive charms, but don’t overdo it – I’d rather not have any of the witnesses tampered with.’
‘Tampered with, sir?’ Brightwell frowned.
‘Dr Greenslade is a woman – and a very attractive one too, from what I hear.’
‘Really, sir, that’s very interesting…’ Brightwell carefully smoothed back his hair and straightened his tie.