Mrs Belton was clearly leading a dubious life that could only end in disaster, but she was no Morrigan.
And yet Morrigan had been here.
Someone had fired the last decisive bullet from the pavement a few feet from where she was standing now. Lily retraced Mrs Colonel Belton’s steps through the shrubbery and on to the pavement edge.
With unnerving coincidence, a taxicab screeched and swayed to a halt in front of her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The door opened. Joe got out, bowing and smiling.
‘Still searching for your bag, Wentworth? Let me help. I think I may have a clue. Do get in.’ He called to the driver. ‘Change of plan, cabby … another one. Take us to St George’s Hospital, will you?’ He was trying for unconcern but feared he betrayed his tension as he asked: ‘Successful raid mounted, I take it, Wentworth … judging by the jaunty angle of your hat?’
‘Very successful, sir.’
‘And now you’re going to reassure me that you came into no direct contact with the dubious owner of the premises in front of which I find you skulking? That nothing … untoward occurred?’
‘Oh, plenty of untoward, sir. Lashings of it. Threats of a deviant sexual nature, blackmail and violence amounting to actual bodily harm all occurred. I’m afraid the gentleman has grounds for complaint against the forces of law and order, but somehow I don’t think he’ll fancy standing up in court to tell exactly how his privacy was invaded.’