To his surprise, she smiled at him and the smile was broad and free from any trace of irony. ‘Good old Inspector Chappel! Well done, that copper! Routine police work, as you say, sir. Glad to hear bread and butter bobbying is getting results!’
‘But you’re thinking — I know I am — that it would have been even better to have heard it before you opened negotiations with Mr Mountfitchet.’
‘Oh, I quite enjoyed it, sir. Stimulating. But I’m still puzzled. I thought you were looking for a civil motive for the killing. Are you now saying you’re happy to accept a political one? When it’s obvious that at the bottom of all this there’s a possibility that someone hired the Irishmen to do the killing for quite other reasons? That someone hired known Fenians deliberately, following the previous attacks on military men, to send everybody down the wrong trail? Well, it worked. And our villain stayed at the scene long enough to fire the decisive bullet when it looked as though his schemes were going wrong. It wasn’t an exotic goddess of terror we should have been looking for.’ She looked him in the eye as she delivered her thunderbolt. ‘It was a home-grown family member.’
Joe flinched and slowly nodded. He looked at the notebook she produced and passed across the desk to him. He looked at the last page. ‘Burlington Bertie? What are we to infer from that?’
‘I think you’ve already done your inferring, sir. And you’re as unhappy with it as I am. We’re each waiting for the other to go first.’
‘Yes. Well, it’s a concise image — for someone hanging on to consciousness. The cabby did well. Again! It’s a clear picture in two words of the man we’re looking for. A swaggering figure in top hat and tails. Everyone knows the music hall act. Everyone can sing the song. A man a little the worse for wear after a boozy night out. A toper staggering home down the street would be just part of the scenery in that area. You wouldn’t look at him twice.’
Lily took the book from him and began to read. ‘The cabby’s exact words were: “… pissed as a newt, he was. Couldn’t walk straight. But he could shoot straight all right.” And Dr Spilsbury confirms that. Single shot, right through the heart. So, a man, not drunk but unsteady on his feet.’ Her voice faltered. ‘I couldn’t help it, sir … the image of Sebastian Marland came to mind.’ She fell silent, colouring with embarrassment. ‘Oh, sorry, sir. When I say it out loud I can hear how ridiculous it sounds. I’ve gone and done it now, haven’t I? I must look a complete idiot. Um … I think I’d better make myself scarce. It’s been a long day. Sorry … I really will remove myself from the premises now.’
‘Stay!’ Joe spoke automatically. He got up, went to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. Apologetically, he smiled and said: ‘I’ve seen you move, Wentworth. You could outrun me as well as out-think me, so I take no chances. You won’t leave this room until you’ve signed the forms I put before you last evening. You’re into something way above your head … my fault entirely … but you must trust me to do the right thing as far as your career is concerned! I was just speaking to the Home Secretary…or being spoken to … for the umpteenth time today. I suppose you’d better hear what transpired this morning while you were out playing hopscotch!’
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was uncomfortable. It was demeaning. He was a high-ranking officer, for God’s sake! He could have this girl shorn of her epaulettes and buttons and stuck away in the Tower or somewhere quiet in five minutes, no questions asked. He owed her nothing. She was eminently dispensable. Why was he sitting behind his desk, at bay, hesitating to meet her eye?