‘Ah! The ladies were expecting some more tangible souvenir of their encounter than a trace of Bay Rum on the pillow?’
‘Exactly!’
‘You’d better have this, sir,’ said Armitage, handing over a sheet of paper. ‘List of the names and home addresses of all the contacts we spoke to. And brief notes on what they said. Just for the record.’
Joe took the sheet and decided the moment had come to bite the bullet and tell them what instructions he had received from his head of department. Looking at the eager faces before him, he knew his task would not be an easy one. Carefully he outlined his interview with Sir Nevil and waited for their response. For a moment they sat in silence, eyes downcast. Then they exchanged a brief look. Neither, for a change, seemed to want to speak first.
Finally, Armitage said in a level voice, ‘Sorry to hear that, sir. Goes against the grain being cut off like that right in the middle of something. I thought we were getting somewhere.’
‘That, I suspect, is the nub of it, Bill. Someone doesn’t want us to get any further. And we are not encouraged to wonder why or who.’
‘Don’t need to wonder, do we? Obvious really. We ought to have expected it as soon as we found the Dame was a bit dodgy. The Admiralty put pressure on Special Branch via Room 40 – though they’re not supposed to – the Branch duly report directly to the Commissioner himself. He picks up the phone and asks Sir Nevil what the devil he thinks he’s doing allowing one of his best blokes to poke about inside this anthill. Upshot – you get pulled off the case and now we’ll never get to interview old Monty Mathurin. Pity that . . . I was looking forward to it.’
Joe grinned with relief. ‘Very philosophical approach, Bill, and I’m sure you have it right. Westhorpe?’
Westhorpe would not be prepared to take lightly her dismissal from a case where she had shone and her abilities had been acknowledged. But training and good manners carried her over her disappointment. ‘A pity, I agree. But there are larger issues even than the Dame’s killing. I can see some good people might be embarrassed by the findings we were making – so lightly, I now have to think. And the official story is very credible. The burglary turning to violence, I mean. It really has always seemed to me to be the most likely explanation. You could say they’ve just made us take a short cut but we’ve arrived at the right destination.’
Some of the assurance faded from her voice as she added, ‘I have enjoyed working with you, though so briefly, sir. And with the sergeant.’
‘And may I return the compliment? said Joe sadly. ‘Who knows? Perhaps we may find ourselves working together again should someone find himself stabbed at the Strand . . . garrotted at the Garrick . . .’
‘Clubbed at Claridge’s?’ suggested Westhorpe. ‘I could help with that!’
Joe smiled. ‘So – it only remains for me to pass on Sir Nevil’s instruction to take a few days’ paid leave. You are required to fade into the background. Disappear. Can you manage that?’
‘I’ve got an aunt runs a boarding house in Southend,’ said Armitage dubiously. ‘She’s not too full at this time of year.’
‘No one sends me away from the capital,’ said Westhorpe firmly. ‘Of all the cheek! I shall get Daddy to have a word with Sir Nevil.’
Joe couldn’t be quite certain that she was teasing him. ‘Two further matters to clear up before you make yourselves scarce. Individual things – I’d like to see you one at a time, if you wouldn’t mind. Won’t take long. Tilly, go and sit in the corridor for a moment, will you, while I speak to Bill and then I’d like a word with you.’
In some surprise, Tilly withdrew, leaving Joe facing his sergeant.
‘Your career, Bill . . . there’s something I want to discuss with you.’
Before he could go further, Armitage had adopted a defensive posture. ‘There aren’t any problems, are there, sir?’ His voice had an edge of anxiety. ‘I suppose you’ve had a look at my record? It’s clear, isn’t it? Have they got me for the leg?’
‘Is there something else that’s troubling you, Bill? Something you fear may be on file against you?’
‘As a matter of fact, there is. Been meaning to bring it up but there never seemed to be a right time. I’ll come straight out with it and perhaps you can advise me what to do . . . Every Tuesday evening after work I go to a flat in Bordeaux Court, that’s off Dean Street. It’s a neighbourhood favoured by immigrant families, sir.’
‘Know it well.’