Chapter Two #2
“Good. Melanie comes with me, but neither of our husbands is free, so there will be plenty of room. What fun! I will pick up Melanie first, as she lives so close to me, and then we will come to Hampstead for you.” They arranged a time.
Sakari went on, “I am so glad that Elizabeth and Belinda are at school with Deva. She would not have settled so happily, I think, without friends from home.”
Daisy was touched. Sakari seldom alluded to the difficulty of being a dark-skinned person in a pale-skinned, prejudiced society.
Before Daisy met them, Melanie, in her unassuming way, had done her best to introduce the Prasads into her own circle in St. John’s Wood, with middling success.
Important as he might be in diplomatic circles, the fact that Mr. Prasad was a high official at the India Office—one of a very few native Indians—and cousin of a maharajah bore little weight in suburbia.
“We are so glad,” Daisy said, “that you found the Friends’ School to be a welcoming place for Deva and that Belinda chose to go, too.”
“We do not tell relatives at home that boys and girls share lessons and eat together. It would be considered very shocking.”
“It’s not exactly commonplace here. Neither Alec nor I would have thought of sending her to a Friends’ School, let alone a co-educational one, but it suits her very well.
What’s more, she’s getting a much better education than I did.
The children are actually encouraged to think for themselves!
Her last letter was full of some science experiment she’d done in Mr. Tesler’s laboratory. We never did any science.”
“You should come to a few lectures with me. You could write articles about them.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll think about it. If only I knew in advance when Alec’s going to be away in the evening.”
“Is he involved in something complicated and exciting now? Or has he merely gone off to the other end of the country?”
“Just outside London, but complicated and possibly exciting. He told me more than usual because he can’t see any possible way I could get involved in the investigation.”
“Do tell.”
Daisy pondered for a moment. “I’d better not. Alec swore me to secrecy on some of it, and I can’t be certain which bits he’d mind about. There’s bound to be something in the evening papers, though.”
“What if they don’t name Alec as the man in charge? How will I know which is his case?”
“Unless the police really make an effort to hush up the details, it’ll be the sensation of the day. Even if there’s only a mention, you’ll know because, as I said, it’s just outside London. Northeast, to be more precise, and close enough for Alec to come home for the night.”
“I shall buy a newspaper,” Sakari vowed.
Alec had taken the Chronicle with him. Daisy had every intention of reading an evening paper, but she didn’t get round to it.
She was busy finishing off an article on the Crystal Palace for her American editor at Abroad magazine.
She had told Elsie, the parlourmaid, not to disturb her, and to take a message if anyone rang up; unless it was Alec wanting to speak to her.
At some point in the afternoon, Elsie crept in and left a cup of tea and a couple of digestive biscuits beside the typewriter, but the maid was far too proud of her mistress’s literary attainments to interrupt by drawing her attention to the fact.
When Daisy typed the last full stop, leant back, and stretched, she discovered the empty cup and plate, so she must have eaten and drunk without noticing.
She rolled the sheets out of the typewriter, sorted the carbons from the wad, and distributed the typed pages between the three piles on the desk.
The top copy was for her editor, the second for her files, and the smudged third for emergency salvage.
Nana had been known to chew up articles carelessly left about, though not since she was a puppy.
But the twins were reaching the age where tearing paper to shreds was lots of fun.
Alec came home at half past six. By then Daisy had visited the nursery, taken Nana out in the Circle garden, and was back at her typewriter dashing off a note to Mr. Thorwald to accompany the article.
“Hello, darling,” said Daisy as Alec came into their shared office, and set his attaché-case on his own desk. “I’m glad you’re home early—but you’ve brought work to do?”
He grimaced. “Medical reports. Spilsbury—Sir Bernard, the Home Office pathologist—has been working on our corpses all day. We can’t start much in the way of an investigation until we’ve identified them, and we can’t identify them without some idea of ages, appearances, and dates of death to match against missing persons lists. ”
“No, you can’t very well go door-to-door asking people if they saw anything suspicious in the past year!”
“Especially as there aren’t any doors within half a mile and thousands of people visit the Forest whenever the sun shines.”
“There’s not much to get your teeth into, is there.”
“I can’t help feeling that the bit of paper is significant and might help, if only we could decipher it. Any thoughts on the subject?”
“Only that it represents a target—that’s obvious—and they were shot in revenge for what the killer perceives as an injustice.”
“Or else the killer wants us to think that was his motive,” Alec said gloomily.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. How difficult! I bet the local police were happy to pass on the case to the experts.”
“As a matter of fact, no. The chief constable was, presumably, but the Essex inspector is about as resentful and uncooperative as a man can be.”
“How silly of him. If you’re finding it a hard slog, he probably wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to start.”
“The hard slog has yet to come.” Alec took a sheaf of papers out of the case.
“Has Sir Bernard done all three autopsies?”
“Not yet. The last, or rather the earliest, he’ll do tomorrow. I haven’t read the reports in detail yet, just skimmed them.”
“Do you know what kind of gun they were shot with? Shouldn’t you be able to trace it?”
“Sounds easy when you put it that way! They weren’t shot from close enough range to be sure but Sir Bernard thinks the weapon was a pistol.
There are plenty of those floating around since the War, issued and not turned in, or German guns acquired as souvenirs.
Needless to say, they’re mostly unregistered.
Not many men brought home ammunition as well, but a few are bound to have picked up a full magazine.
If we knew where they were shot, we might be able to find bullets that would help identify the make, at least.”
“I’m sure reading medical reports would thoroughly put you off your meal. I hope you’re going to leave that gruesome stuff till after dinner.”
“You asked.”
“Yes, sorry. I’m finished here except for sticking everything in an envelope. Come and have a drink.”
Daisy’s intention was to take his mind off the case for a while, but as she sipped her Cinzano and soda, she found herself wondering about something he had said. She tried to think of a way to phrase her question so that he wouldn’t be able to accuse her of meddling.
No bright idea occurred to her.
Of course Alec noticed her abstraction. “What’s on your mind? Have you come up with some sort of link?”
“Link?”
“Between the paper target and—oh, anything at all. I’m certain it has some meaning beyond the obvious.”
“’Fraid not. I was just thinking about something you said—”
“Don’t ask me about the case. I’ve already told you far more than I ought.”
“It’s not specifically about this case. Just a sort of general question.”
“Come off it, love. This case is all we’ve been talking about.”
“No, honestly. It’s a question arising out of what you said about the case but not specific to it. Just—I suppose you’d call it general procedure.”
“Well, ask away, but—”
“—You don’t promise to answer. I know. It’s just that you said, or implied, that once you know when the victims were killed, you could consult the missing persons list and you’d know who they were.
It can’t be that simple. Nothing ever is.
It seems to me, at best that would tell you who they might be. ”
“You’re quite right. But once we have possible names and some idea where they might have come from, we can start checking dental records, laundry marks, that sort of thing.”
“I take it none of them had any useful documents on them.”
“Daisy, that is most definitely specific to this particular case! If you start interfering…”
“I don’t see how I can, darling. I don’t know the victims, let alone anyone who might be a suspect. But wouldn’t it be strange if one of them turned out to be an acquaintance—”
“Daisy!” Alec swallowed the remains of his Scotch and soda, and set down the glass with a bit of a thump. “I’m going up to see the twins, who can be guaranteed not to be acquainted with anyone remotely concerned and not to start asking awkward questions.”
“Not yet,” said Daisy.