‘Exactly, Your Majesty. It was the cuckoo clock that told me. Sir Tommy didn’t go running over to Buckingham Palace and down to the vaults, because he didn’t need to. He knew the picture wasn’t there – because he had it in his house all along – and latterly in a suitcase. Just to be sure, I did check whether there are any cuckoo clocks in Buckingham Palace. There are three in the Royal Collection, but they are all in other locations.’

  The Queen nodded. ‘Yes, they are. One of them is extremely pretty and unusual.’

  ‘What an absolute scoundrel!’ The King said. ‘To think my mama put so much trust in Tommy, as we have done too.’ He looked at his wife and she nodded agreement. ‘As for those other two – Cadoret and Smoke—’

  ‘Three, actually, Sir,’ Grace interrupted.

  ‘Three?’ The Queen quizzed. ‘You’re not going to tell us dear Perry was part of this too, are you?’

  ‘No, absolutely not,’ Grace replied.

  ‘Then who? Was it Geoffrey Bailey, the footman?’

  ‘No, Ma’am, we think Bailey was just trying to blackmail the group into getting Sir Tommy to give him the medal he wanted. It would seem that Sir Peregrine, who was increasingly suspicious of Tommy and his colleagues, may have indiscreetly told Geoffrey Bailey a few things and perhaps they started working together building evidence of the thefts.’

  ‘Pillow talk?’ The Queen suggested, with a wry smile.

  ‘Possibly, although we don’t believe the relationship had gone very far.’

  ‘So, Detective Superintendent,’ The King asked, ‘if not Geoffrey Bailey, who is this fourth person you are referring to?’

  ‘Fiona Magellan-Lacey, Sir,’ Grace said.

  ‘As a willing accomplice?’

  ‘I would say more than that. She has a First in mathematics from Oxford University, and a number of impressive computing sciences qualifications. From the laptops we’ve seized from them both, it would appear she was the mastermind behind all their work on the dark web.’

  The King looked puzzled. ‘Tommy always told me she worked in an art gallery – a part-time job that she enjoyed.’

  ‘Sir Tommy told a lot of people a lot of lies,’ Grace replied.

  Both Their Majesties nodded, a little ruefully.

  ‘But he had all the charm in the world,’ Grace went on. ‘We were completely taken in by him, for a long time.’

  ‘I think I do owe you an apology,’ King Charles said. ‘I believe I was a bit short with you the first time we met.’

  ‘Understandably, Sir, you were concerned about Her Majesty.’

  ‘I was – I clearly underestimated your abilities. Not only were you right in your original assessment of the situation, you’ve done a remarkable job since then – and you have saved countless treasures that are part of our nation’s heritage. I don’t know how you detectives do it, or your thought processes, but my wife and I want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Sir. I’m just glad my team has got the result it has.’

  The King then looked bemused, and slowly shook his head from side to side. He raised his hands in the air and then lowered them again, as if unsure how to express what he wanted to say. ‘It’s – as if – you’ve had to put together the pieces of a gigantic puzzle.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Grace replied. ‘Almost all major crimes are exactly that: big and often complex puzzles that we have to try to solve.’

  The King frowned again and his voice came out a little tighter and more strained than before. ‘What I still just don’t fully understand in all this, is why poor Peregrine was shot. Presumably to silence him, but there would have been a lot of easier ways, surely?’

  ‘I agree,’ The Queen said. ‘That is what is baffling me, too.’

  ‘I think I can explain,’ Grace replied. ‘Rose Cadoret has already told us quite a lot – she is, as the expression goes, singing like a canary, in the hope of a reduced sentence. What seems to be the case is that the plan the conspirators made was an extremely dangerous one, based around the classic distraction technique favoured by magicians, but on a far grander scale.’

  ‘A conjuring trick?’ The King queried.

  ‘Not a conjuring trick, no, Sir. She told us that she was the one who pushed the length of track onto the line to derail the train. The set-up with the derailing was to make the shooting look like a failed conspiracy to assassinate Her Majesty. By doing it on this scale they felt it would appear the work of either an antimonarchy group or some terrorist organization wanting to make a very big public statement through their actions. What went wrong, for them, was the sniper’s shot.’

  ‘Very fortunately,’ The King said.

  ‘Well, the intention was always to kill Sir Peregrine. The plan was for the sniper to take his shot when Sir Peregrine and Her Majesty were just inches apart. But for whatever reason, he didn’t get that chance, and fired anyway. If there had been only a few inches between Her Majesty and Sir Peregrine, then the obvious assumption would have been that the shooter had missed. But to throw our investigation he fired a second shot to give the impression he was still trying to kill Her Majesty. In which case, our investigation would have been very different and we wouldn’t have been looking anything like so hard into Sir Peregrine’s background. All our energies would have been focused in a different direction.’

  ‘And you are pretty certain, Detective Superintendent,’ The King asked, ‘that the sniper is the fellow found dead at the bottom of the lift shaft?’

  ‘Yes, PC Jon Smoke and Rose Cadoret were responsible for the murders. We recovered Smoke’s private phone hidden in Ms Cadoret’s flat in Putney. There’s a possible legitimate reason for it being there, because we know they did have an on-off relationship. But GPS triangulation puts Smoke’s phone in Buckingham Palace, and in that part of the Palace where the lift shaft is, at around the estimated time of his death. From there it travelled back to Ms Cadoret’s apartment.’

  ‘All on its own?’ The Queen said with a sardonic smile.

  ‘It puts a whole new meaning to teleporting,’ Grace said.

  Both Their Majesties laughed. ‘Straight out of Dr Who?’ King Charles suggested.

  ‘Indeed, Sir.’

  ‘It seems from what you’ve told us that technology has played quite a major role in this investigation,’ The King said.

  ‘Yes, Sir, but so have some good old-fashioned investigation techniques. We were lucky to have somebody who was able to crack the cryptic codes in the diary and the names of those involved, who Sir Peregrine knew all had unrestricted access to the Royal Collection.’

  ‘In addition to your wife, Cleo?’ The King said, with a smile.

  ‘Indeed, Sir. She was weaned on puzzles! The last name was the hardest to crack and that, of course, was Sir Tommy who had us all fooled.’

  ‘How does that proverb go?’ The King asked. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’

  Grace smiled and nodded. ‘Sir Jason Finch was for a time very much a POI, as we say.’

  King Charles frowned. ‘POI?’

  ‘A Person of Interest, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘For some while, Sir Jason Finch met a lot of the criteria for a suspect. Pretty much up to the deciphering of the code for Sir Tommy – which was WGFTGIGFTG: What’s Good For The Goose Is Good For The Gander. The key to the cryptic clue is the goose – the Magellan goose.’

  Queen Camilla smiled, then said, ‘He certainly did have us all fooled. It was very smart of dear Perry to have kept all this information secret in his diary – what a clever Hawk he was!’

  ‘It was smart, Ma’am. As you say, modern technology also played a major part. As in most investigations these days. Whenever we use any modern technology – or even travel in a modern car – we are leaving electronic footprints everywhere. Villains know that, but fortunately for us, sometimes they’re forgetful, as all humans can be. PC Smoke failed to switch off his phone when he went to take up his position near the south portal of Clayton Tunnel. It puts him clearly there at the time of the shooting. And we subsequently found the sniper rifle he used concealed under floorboards at his house. We also found a motocross motorcycle matching one seen by a witness, in his garage. Traces of mud on the tyres and on the chassis of the machine also match the soil type at the scene of the shooting.’

  ‘So you are very confident it was Smoke?’ The Queen said.

  ‘Very, Ma’am.’

  ‘Remarkable,’ The King said.

  ‘Detective Superintendent,’ The Queen said, ‘I noticed you seemed to take quite an interest in some of the art in Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘I did indeed, Ma’am, yes.’

  ‘How about as a small thank-you, one day in the coming weeks I give you a private tour? And if your wife would like to join us, she would be most welcome.’

  Grace could imagine Cleo’s face, and he beamed in delight. ‘I would love that, Your Majesty. I know Cleo would, too!’ He thought for an instant. ‘I also know my colleague Detective Inspector Branson, who played a very big part in the investigation, would really love that, too. Would it be possible for him to join us?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘With great pleasure. Now, is there anything in particular that you would like to see?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I would be more than honoured to leave it to you, Ma’am, as my tour guide.’ Then he smiled. ‘Well, maybe there’s just one part of the Palace we don’t need to worry about.’

  ‘And which is that?’

  ‘The roof, Your Majesty. I think I’ve seen enough of that.’

  111

  Sunday 17 December 2023

  ‘Get you, tea with your new besties!’ Cleo, lounging back on the sofa, teased. ‘Cucumber sarnies with the crusts cut off? Scones and cream? Victoria sponge?’

  ‘Just Earl Grey tea, that was all.’

  ‘Served in the finest china tea set, by the butler of course?’

  He smiled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘You know that bone china is made from real bones, don’t you?’

  ‘Seriously? I’ve never thought about that before. You mean animal bones, I hope?’

  ‘Rather than human ones?’

  They were squashed together, book-ended by Humphrey leaning against Grace and Kyla against Cleo. The kids were settled and Grace was enjoying his first proper drink in a month. He was holding a very stiff and cold vodka Martini, and Cleo a large glass of wine.

  ‘I’m sure there are plenty of unscrupulous cemetery operators,’ she said. ‘Half the components of fine bone china is ground-up cremated bone. It’s what gives it the translucency.’

  ‘Hmm, thanks, that might come under too much information! Think I’ll stick to a plastic mug in future.’ He put down his glass and stroked Humphrey on the nape of his neck. ‘So, how come you know so much about fine china? You got a side-hustle on the go – supplying the potteries with bone ash?’

  Cleo grinned. ‘Hang around a mortuary for long enough and you’ll learn everything you never needed to know!’

  Grace picked up his glass and clinked hers. ‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said.

  ‘Your first vodka Martini in a long time. Another influence from your royal buddies?’

  ‘Influence?’

  ‘I read that His Maj is rather partial to a Martini, too. But he has it made with gin, rather than vodka.’ She gave him a cheeky glance. ‘Clearly that’s the posh way to do it.’

  ‘So I’m a pleb, having it with vodka?’

  ‘Just saying . . .’

  They had spent a happy weekend with the children, decorating the house and the Christmas tree. Noah had proudly displayed the angel on top of the tree that he had made at school. Molly had brought home a cardboard snowman from pre-school. Earlier they had both sat at the kitchen table, with Noah at one end constructing his Lego models and Molly, at the other, putting together a Duplo unicorn figure, loving seeing how focused both children were on their tasks.

  ‘Did you ever solve the last of the five cryptic ciphers you were given?’ Cleo asked, suddenly. ‘The one about the Horseman? Song of the Horseman or Son of the Horseman?’

  Grace nodded. ‘Sorry, I should have told you. Have you still been trying to work it out?’

  ‘It’s been keeping me awake night after night.’

  He looked at her and saw the teasing smile on her face.

  ‘But I have been mulling on it,’ she added.

  ‘Denton Scroope finally figured it out. Each of the five clues was someone who had easy access to the Royal Collection – but not necessarily a suspect. It’s Lorraine McKnight, Director of the Royal Collection. McKnight is of Irish origin. In Gaelic it means, son of the horseman.’

  ‘Sir Peregrine sounds like he had quite an intellect,’ Cleo said.

  Grace nodded. ‘You don’t get to be high up in the Royal Household by being a dimwit. Sir Tommy was pretty smart, also.’

  ‘Just not smart enough?’ she quizzed.

  ‘Or maybe too smart,’ he replied. ‘He nearly got away with it, so very nearly.’

  On the coffee table in front of them, next to a pile of Christmas cards they had opened and read, was a tall stack of pages from newspapers, over the past month, which Cleo had carefully cut out and kept in place with a glass paperweight. It was for posterity, she’d said. A big scrapbook for their children, and one day their grandchildren, to see how famous their dad or grandad – or maybe even great-grandad – had been. The most recent one, from the Telegraph, lay on the top.

  The headline read: MURDER IN THE ROYAL HOUSEHOLD – THREE DENIED BAIL.

  Cleo shot a glance at the stack. ‘So are your royal besties going to be called on to give evidence at the trial?’

  ‘I hope not. Rose is going to plead guilty as part of her bargaining, and I would hope Sir Tommy and Fiona, villains though they may be, will have the decency not to expose Their Majesties to that. I mean, they are totally bang to rights and it would only involve The Queen – but I very much doubt that will happen. The evidence against them is strong and three of their five suitcases we pulled off the plane to Dubai were full of pretty much priceless items from the Royal Collection. Including the missing Vermeer, Holbein’s miniature portrait of Anne of Cleves and the entire rest of Granny’s Personal Chips.’

  ‘Minus the one fake?’

  He nodded. ‘Yep. Minus the one that got away and one that didn’t.’

  ‘People do pack things by mistake, don’t they, my love?’

  He shrugged. ‘It happens.’

  ‘Like the fleece gilet you packed last year when we went to Corfu in August?’

  ‘Exactly! We also struck lucky with the information that Rose Cadoret gave us about a storage unit in a warehouse near Heathrow Airport. There were two packing cases full of items from the Royal Collection, including pictures, jade ornaments, sculptures and small items of furniture. They were due to be shipped to the Magellan-Laceys’ new address in Dubai, labelled as “personal items”.’

  They looked at each other and both burst out laughing. ‘It’s surreal,’ she said. ‘This whole thing.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘But what is brilliant is how much stuff you’ve recovered.’

  ‘Much of that was thanks to Rose Cadoret singing.’

  ‘And you recovered most of the money they received from what they had sold and delivered?’

  ‘We got all their Bitcoin wallets, where the money was hidden, off their phones. Sir Tommy’s code was cracked by one of our brainboxes in Digital Forensics – Charlotte Mckee. The code was a combination of his and his wife’s initials and the date they joined the Palace.’

  ‘And Rose Cadoret gave you hers?’

  ‘And Jon Smoke’s. So all the cash they made has been returned to the Keeper of the Privy Purse.’

  ‘Sir Jason Finch?’

  ‘Yes. One of my prime suspects, originally. Even more so when we heard he was away with his wife in Amsterdam. We thought they might be selling diamonds, but it turns out one of their daughters has opened a restaurant there with her partner, and they’d gone to the launch to support the couple. Then our suspicions deepened when our Financial Investigator discovered a cash deposit of three quarters of a million pounds into his bank account. But that turned out to be legitimate. They were in the process of selling a number of paintings Sir Jason had inherited. One of them was by Landseer – he had a picture by him that was very similar to one in the Royal Collection.’

  Humphrey turned his head and licked Grace’s hand. The dog’s tongue felt like wet sandpaper.

  ‘Humphrey loves you!’ Cleo said. ‘He loved you from the moment he first saw you, remember?’

  ‘Just like you did!’

  Cleo punched him. ‘Don’t get too big-headed or you’ll need a larger hat. Tell me more about the diamond you’ve just said was missing and the fake.’

  ‘Good old technology again,’ he said, a tad smugly. ‘Triangulation on Fiona Magellan-Lacey’s phone put her in Hatton Garden. A building where there are five major players in the diamond industry. Thanks to the woman I got released from prison on licence, we know who she has been doing business with.’

  ‘The woman released from prison – you mean Shannon Kendall?’

  He nodded. ‘She’s delivered everything we could have wanted – and more.’ He gave his wife a big smile. ‘It didn’t take long for Nick and EJ to work out from that triangulation, that Fiona had met one of the diamond dealers in that location on several occasions. She made the mistake of having lunch at a nearby restaurant with him on one of those visits, enabling the team to identify him. His name is Gary van Damm. When he was arrested, about to board a flight to Mumbai, he had one of the diamonds from the famous collection of Granny’s Personal Chips in his jacket pocket.’

  Cleo leaned forward and picked up her glass of Rioja. ‘I read in the Daily Mail that in addition to Charles liking his Martini, Camilla likes red wine – Pomerol is her favourite. So we don’t quite match Their Majesties.’