‘In what way?’
‘Oh, the murderer is keeping pace with us. It’s not an investigation now. It’s a race.’
Alma Sorrowbridge always baked industrial quantities of cake and bread before heading to her church on Haverstock Hill, and the smell of hot ginger and corn bread lured Bryant from his bedroom. He drifted into the kitchen in his patched, tasseled dressing gown and seated himself half-asleep at the table like an impoverished Edwardian lord waiting to be fed.
‘Oh, so you are still here,’ said Alma, carrying in a tea tray of spiced pancakes and eggs. ‘I was beginning to think you’d moved out without telling me.’
‘Why would I do that?’ asked Bryant. ‘You feed me.’
‘Not for much longer.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘In case the packing crates in the hall have escaped your attention, we’re moving out.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve hardly been here five minutes. I’m still cataloguing my police manuals; I’m only up to 1928.’
‘We lost the court hearing. They’re tearing this place down and building an apartment complex. I keep telling you but you don’t listen. No-one wants an eyesore like this in their nice upmarket neighbourhood.’
‘Well, can’t they rehouse us temporarily and move us into one of the new apartments?’
‘The starting price of the new flats will be £1.5 million each. Have you got that kind of money knocking around? No, I thought not. I blame Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow. When they moved in around the corner, the house prices shot up. But if you have got any savings tucked away in your mattress, now would be the time to get them out.’
‘I’m not sure I care for this new sarcastic side of you,’ Bryant said. ‘Can’t we talk about it another time? I’m in the middle of a case.’
‘You’re always in the middle of a case. I’ve been telling you about the court proceedings for months, but I knew you had your hearing aid turned off. I tried to get you along to the hearings, remember? It’s too late to do anything now—we have to go. The Compulsory Purchase Order was approved.’
‘Oh, this is ridiculous. I can’t be expected to stop everything and move house when there’s a murderer on the loose.’ He had a sudden thought. ‘Hang on, I haven’t anywhere to go.’
‘No. That’s because you haven’t got any friends.’
‘I did have some, but they mostly died or went mad. Well, what are we going to do?’
Alma folded her arms across her generous bust. ‘We? What makes you think I want to move with you?’
‘Don’t be absurd, you’d never live with your conscience if you abandoned me now. You’ve seen what I’m like without you. I nearly burned the house down drying my socks on the gas stove. When I’m left by myself, things have a tendency to explode.’
‘Just as well I’ve made us some arrangements, then. You won’t like it, but I don’t see that we have any choice. I’ve found us a place.’
‘Where?’
‘Seven Albion House, Harrison Street, Bloomsbury.’
‘The Gray’s Inn Road end of Bloomsbury? But that’s wonderful! Home of Dickens and Virginia Woolf and Brasenose College.’
‘It’s a council flat.’
Bryant thumped the side of his head theatrically. ‘I’m sorry, for a moment I thought you said it was a council flat.’
‘I did and it is.’
‘But I’m a professional. I have a salary. I can’t throw myself on the mercy of the state—’
‘And you can’t afford to live around here anymore. Neither can I. Think of the advantages. You’ll be able to walk to work. And the manager assures me that it’s a nice quiet block. There’s even a small garden. I put our names down when I first heard about the purchase order.’
Bryant looked around in alarm. ‘Will there be room for all my books?’
‘Most of them. There’s a spare room. Some will have to go. You could keep your reference manuals at the Unit.’
‘But—’
‘We have no choice, Mr Bryant. You weren’t interested in attending the meetings, and I couldn’t fight to keep this place without you.’
‘I’m so sorry, Alma. I’ve failed you.’
‘It’s all right, I’m used to it. The first thirty years were the hardest. Go on, have some corn bread.’
Bryant munched and thought for a minute. ‘You know, it might be a good thing. We’ll meet new people. Common people with ordinary lives, the ones who watch talent shows on television and take their children to football matches. I can get to know them, find out about their habits. Make a proper clinical study of them.’