‘What a pity he’s unable to speak for himself.’

‘Is it known, sir, how they engaged his services? How they came to be riding in that particular cab?’

Joe noted her foresight. ‘Yes. I asked Lady Dedham. All above board. The cabs were lined up outside the hall when the meeting turned out and the Dedhams took the next in line. They weren’t the first and they weren’t the last out. Luck of the draw.’

‘Look – what do you think of the possibility of distraction, sir? Deliberate or accidental?’ Her pencil moved south to the opposite side of the road. ‘There’s a sort of little green area over here … it’s hard to envisage what’s on offer from a map …’

‘Shrubs,’ Joe supplied. ‘I skulked around in there myself. You could hide a couple of quiet men in there for hours.’

‘Righto. Let’s picture them hiding here while the cabby does his reconnaissance and safely unloads Lady Dedham. Then we imagine him walking back to the taxi to assist the admiral … it’s at that moment that the men run across the road and hide in the bushes near the doorstep. A diversion could well have been staged then, don’t you agree? Though the circumstances are not yet perfectly clear.’

‘Yes. The arrival of the next fare. The young lady who barged in to commandeer the cab.’

Lily read from her notes: ‘Miss Harriet Hampshire, giving an address in Park Lane.’ She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. ‘It rings a bell with me … Is this one of the houses near Pinks Hotel, sir?’

Joe nodded.

‘And Miss Hampshire claims to have been in Melton Square, visiting a friend. At least that’s what she told Superintendent Hopkirk.’

‘I saw her,’ he said. ‘Briefly before they drove her home. Stunner! She’d certainly have diverted the admiral’s and the driver’s attention. Yes, two dark-clad men, profiting from a distraction, could have got across the road to the forward cover position without being spotted. And they were wearing rubber-soled shoes. In any case, any sound would have been masked by the noise of the taxi engine, which had been left running.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘The admiral dismissed the cabby, and strolled down to his front door. The moment he stood on the doorstep, off guard and backlit by the hall lights, they struck.’

‘I’m wondering why the cabby didn’t set off at once, sir?’

‘Waiting – as he’d said he would – to make sure all was well?’ Sandilands suggested. ‘Some sort of argy-bargy with the girl? Checking directions?’

He broke off and then said, with decision: ‘But look here – that’s enough desk work. Before we go to the hospital, or the jail, why don’t I take you out to look at the scene? Cassandra – Lady Dedham – is expecting me to pay another visit. We’ll take a staff car and go and see whether, in the cold light of day, she’s remembered anything more of significance, shall we?’

And time to put the girl at the fourth – and perhaps the hardest – hurdle.

Chapter Eight

The house which had been the scene of murder and mayhem with officers of the law and ambulances coming and going all night was now presenting a quiet and unruffled front. All signs of a police presence had been removed so that the normal life of the street might be resumed and the only reminders of the tragedy were the drawn curtains at all the windows and a recently sluiced area, still damp and smelling of carbolic, stretching from the doorstep out to the pavement.

The door was opened a careful inch only after Joe’s second knock. He caught sight of a fearful eye under a maid’s bonnet. ‘Police, miss,’ he said hurriedly before his intimidating features could cause further alarm. ‘Commander Sandilands and his assistant.’ He passed his card through the narrow gap. ‘We’re here to see her ladyship.’

Reassured, the girl stuck her head round the door. ‘Sorry, sir. Lady Dedham’s gone up to her room and isn’t seeing anyone.’

‘That’ll be all, Eva, thank you.’ The door was flung open by Cassandra Dedham herself. ‘Always in for you, Joe. I’m sorry about the unfriendly greeting. With the master dead, the butler laid low, and the footman helping the police with their inquiries at Vine Street, we females left behind are feeling a bit under siege. Come in, come in. There are two of you?’ She gave a welcoming nod and looked Lily up and down in surprise.

‘May I present Woman Police Patrol Officer Lilian Wentworth? Lily, this is Lady Dedham.’

He watched keenly as the two women greeted each other. Clearly, Cassandra Dedham was as surprising to the policewoman as the policewoman was to the lady. Wentworth couldn’t fail to be impressed by Lady Dedham, even in her grief-stricken state. Much younger than might have been expected, perhaps in her late thirties, Cassandra had a classical beauty that could not be extinguished by the shock and exhaustion she was suffering. Her oval face was drained of colour, its pallor accentuated by a smear of blood along her left cheekbone. Her earrings were intact, her dark auburn hair was scraped back into a chignon and very nearly immaculate. One strand had escaped to trail unnoticed on to her shoulder. Even as his eye caught it, Cassandra automatically retrieved it and tucked it out of sight under its velvet band.

‘Ah! Another of your Scottish cousins flighting south, Joe? The coverts up there must be full of them.’

Joe was just about to fall in with this convenient suggestion and make Lily an honorary relation when she decided to speak for herself. ‘I’m a colleague of the com-mander’s cousin Margery, Lady Dedham. A useful pair of hands. In attendance to save him some time. I know how to write shorthand.’

‘I say, Lil, do you really?’ Joe affected not to know. ‘She’s modest, you’ll find, Cassandra. She’s really here to put her sharp wits to our problem. Like you, she’s not comfortable with the story that’s been hacked together, though she has, as yet, only been able to form a judgement from the notes, of course. I thought you two could put your heads together and sift through the evidence again. Always assuming – and I assume a lot, I know – that you’re up to it …?’

A proviso that needed to be made, Joe thought. Under the veneer of calm and normality, he sensed that Cassandra Dedham was very near collapse. An admiral’s wife would be made of stern stuff, that was to be expected, but the woman had witnessed and played an active part in a tragedy and was still caught up in it. She was still dressed – though apparently oblivious of it – in the chiffon evening gown she had been wearing when her husband had died in her arms, only feet away from where they were standing. The dark green fabric was blotched with blood, the stains showing up as a black dappling from neck to hem. Her evening gloves were lying where she had dropped them on the hall table the previous night.

This wouldn’t do. Should he say something? How far could he presume on their acquaintance? Joe stepped forward, suddenly aware that Cassandra was becoming unsteady. Oh, what the hell! He seized her cold hands and passed an arm under her shoulders. ‘You haven’t slept. You haven’t even changed. Where’s the medico I left caring for you?’

‘No time. Statements, re-enactments for your people, Joe … Endless telephoning to be done. Peterson to arrange for… he’s doing well, they say … Hundreds of people to be informed … the press gathering. The king sent round an equerry and you can’t deal with one of those smooth young men in five minutes, you know. I sent the doctor away. He was all for giving me laudanum. If ever there was a time when I needed full possession of my faculties, this is it, I think you’d agree.’ The tension he felt in her slight form was alarming.

‘But who’s supporting you? You can’t manage without a man in the house. Surely …?’

‘Our sons are on their way. They’ve been at sea on a training ship all summer. Once John and Billy get here I can let go the reins. John’s seventeen now … man of the house … But no, you’re right, Joe,’ she said, replying to his unspoken thoughts, ‘the boys are very young still. I’ve alerted their older cousin Sebastian – Oliver’s nephew. Do you remember meeting him? Royal Flying Corps? He’ll rally round.’