He listened to her brief account. She wasted no time on unnecessary detail or speculation and he realised that she’d rehearsed this speech in her mind before delivering it. She’d clearly been concerned and remained puzzled by what she’d discovered. Joe, on the other hand, believed he now had a clear idea of what had gone on that April night. He allowed himself a grim smile. For possibly the first time ever in what had been a seven-year struggle with Dorcas, he thought he had the advantage of her. What would she choose to feed him? Truth or lies?
“Rosie, your information is secure with me. Thank you for your openness and your clarity. I’ve heard less concise speeches from King’s Counsel in court at the Old Bailey!”
“Lawyers? Oh, sir! I’m just a maid!”
“In this household, I’m surprised to hear that! You must be fast on your feet.” The jovial words were out before he could censor them.
To his relief, instead of the offended splutter he’d deserved, he was rewarded with a gurgle of amusement and a very pretty blush before she bobbed and dashed for the door.
This was going to be trickier than he’d expected. He found himself in a household of well-chosen and irreproachable servants who understood and abided by the concept of loyalty. Polite and deferential though they were to the stranger policeman from London, their allegiance would go always and automatically to the family. But Joe thought he’d identified in at least two of their number a bolshy streak which gave rise to an intriguing tendency to support what they perceived as an underdog. Solidarity with the down-trodden. A third had, in the subtlest possible way, pointed to the trail of breadcrumbs that would lead him back to a murderer.
London. St. James’s. 6 A.M.
LILY BLINKED, SMOTHERED a yawn and broke off a piece of her toast. She caught the waiter’s eye and was about to ask him for a second pot of coffee when she abruptly dismissed him and put down her knife.
There he was. On the move again. Truelove was quietly leaving the hotel having, she assumed, taken an early breakfast up in his room. She was glad she’d disobeyed Joe and stayed on watch. Glad too that she’d thought of booking a taxi and hiring the driver to stay on call for her for the whole morning. Easing forward, she saw him look at his wristwatch and smile with satisfaction as his Bentley was brought up for him from the garage. He slid into the driver’s seat, tipped the valet and set off. Luggage already in the boot, she assumed.
The streets would be empty of traffic at this hour and he could drive as fast as his great car would go. Quickly, she grabbed the case she’d packed and left under the table and nipped out to the street. She bashed the snoozing taxi driver on the head with her clutch purse and told him to follow the Bentley.
To Lily’s surprise they turned west towards Kensington. Ten minutes later they had pulled up in front of an impressive white-painted birthday cake of a house. A well-dressed gentleman of middle age swept his homburg off his bald head and greeted Truelove, who’d turned off the engine and stepped out. Sir James then proceeded to take the hand of the young girl who was standing by the side of—her father?—and kissed it. They’d met before, then. Two-timing, Truelove? A jolly conversation ensued. Arms were waved. Heads were nodded. Finally, Truelove strolled over to the Rolls-Royce parked in front of the house. At the wheel sat a uniformed chauffeur and in the passenger seat a lady’s maid. The car appeared to be loaded to the gunwales with suitcases and hat-boxes. Truelove spoke for a few moments with the chauffeur, pointing. Giving directions, Lily guessed.
He handed the young lady into the back seat of his Bentley, her father into the passenger seat, checked they were comfortable, and set off with the second motorcar following on.
Moving unobtrusively after them, the taxi followed on the northerly and easterly heading it had taken.
The man—if not the girl—had been familiar, Lily thought. A moment’s ransacking of her mental files and she had it. Poor old Truelove! Rather him than her, she decided, trapped in a shoulder-to-shoulder situation of intimacy for the next two and a half hours with that rogue. Not the kind of shark he usually swam with. She rather thought she knew where they were going. To her surprise, they made a further stop. A third guest was ready and waiting, again on the doorstep, this time of a more modest house on the Great North Road, and was ushered into the rear of the Bentley. This identification was easier and more surprising.
The convoy moved off again and Lily decided to follow the cars to a point beyond which she could be sure they were going where she calculated they were going. Then she would find a telephone box and get hold of Joe.