“But the State—I’m inferring—is so far unaware that it is in need, again, of such service as I can offer?” There was a trace of doubt in Lily’s voice as she foxtrotted jerkily around the subject, then she plunged in and asked, “This isn’t something personal, is it, Joe? You must have enough authorised, official enquiries on the books to keep you busy? All that civil unrest … Communists, Fascists, Hunger Marchers, demanding your attention.”
“To say nothing of the ‘Mothers for Clean Living League.’ They cause more damage and use up more police time than any political faction. I won’t tell you what they got up to at the Dorchester! But, Lily, I will always investigate the suspicion of murder. I spend a great deal of time sitting on committees and signing forms these days, but I still know which questions should be asked, and I have the energy to nag away until I get an answer.”
“The ferret still likes to get his paws dirty? You’re not letting this one go, are you?”
“No. I can’t. What’s more, I know that a clever, well-trained woman can sometimes get further down the rabbit hole than I can. Lily, I want you to stay under the same roof as our gent this weekend and just watch him. That’s all you have to do.”
“Something special about this weekend?”
“I think so. It’s an aberration in his schedule. He’s a man who doesn’t take time off. It’s out of character for him to go quietly to earth in this way. He’s booked their best suite. Under a false name. Well, not very false! He’s booked in as ‘Mr. Fitzwilliam.’ He used his mother’s maiden name, would you believe?”
“Hardly a seasoned conspirator?”
“You’d say. But that’s all we have.”
“Is Mrs. Fitzwilliam expected to be joining him?” Lily asked carefully.
“No sign of a lady. So far. It’s his contacts I’m anxious to identify. I want you to note who meets him, goes to his room, shares a drink with him, passes him a newspaper … lights his cigarette … You know all the tricks.”
There was concern in Lily’s voice as she pointed out the obvious: “Joe, you must recognise this setup? It’s a divorce case in preparation. I don’t mind mixing it with murderers or spies, and I’d cheerfully knock the stuffing out of a Blackshirt or two, but I won’t be involved with divorce cases. I’m not that sort of agent. You know that. I get enough psychological drama at home.”
“Divorce is certainly not an aspect of this case, Lily. I say again—murder may well be.”
Joe’s old officer listened to her briefing, asking a few quick questions, and he nodded in relief when she accepted the task.
“You never thought I’d say no, did you?”
“You miss the work still, Lily? Oh, I know you’re happily in the married state, but I do note the sparkle in your eye when you catch the scent of the fox! By the way, Bacchus doesn’t know anything about this.”
Lily gave him a pitying look. “Bet he does! That husband of mine knows everything about everybody. Including you, including me. Start from there. It can be frightening, but that’s how it is. You’ve conveniently sent him off to Berlin, sniffing out British Nazi sympathisers—or so I’m guessing … Bacchus tells me nothing—leaving the little wife to get up to all kinds of naughtiness.”
“The children, Lily? Can I offer …?”
“Taken care of. Aunty Phyl’s always glad to ride to the rescue and is well backed up by our Emma, who can always sleep over. Dick and Hattie send their love and wonder when they’re going to see their godfather again.”
Joe smiled broadly. “Summer holidays coming up next month! I’m planning a children’s party—or at least, my sister’s planning a party—down in Surrey. Swimming, camping, tree-climbing, cakes and ice cream … that sort of thing. They must come.”
“They’re very fond of you, Joe.” Lily looked at him with affection and concern. “You’re used to my bluntness, so I’ll say it: time you had kids of your own. Anyone on the horizon who might oblige?” She knew she was the only one who had ever been close enough to Joe to ask searching personal questions. His sister, Lydia, was very dear to him, but she received only edited and optimistic summaries of his London life. Lily, on the other hand, had never suffered from upper-class delicacy, and she reckoned that if you never asked, you never found out. He’d saved her from a nasty end in a swirling Thames whirlpool early on in their acquaintance and that had put him, paradoxically, forever in her debt. A life you’ve saved is doubly precious, and she knew he would grant her any favours. She would do the same for him and hoped he understood that—he would never have allowed her to speak the words.