Chapter Eight #2
‘That’s with two Ls?’ she was asking, writing something down. ‘And her husband is Jeremy? Got it. Thank you so much, Bella. Kisses to Henry and the girls.’
She hung up.
‘I’ve located Lucinda Pickard, and it only took me three calls,’ she said.
‘She’s Mrs Jeremy Kendall now and lives in Holland Park.
Nancy Spurlock’s family is still there as well, so we could kill two birds.
Rather nice neighbourhood. You do know some fabulously wealthy people for an aspiring socialist.’
‘Including you, darling,’ said Iris.
‘How did things go with Miss Lowle?’
‘She was badly shaken by what happened to Tony,’ said Iris. ‘Her first time being blooded on the job. I almost got the feeling she was looking to me as a mentor.’
‘She could do worse,’ said Gwen. ‘I hear someone coming up the steps. Let’s continue this later.’
A moment later, Parham knocked on their door.
Mrs Bainbridge took one look at him and said, ‘You need tea. Immediately.’
‘I wouldn’t say no,’ he said as Sparks buzzed for Mrs Billington.
‘Tea for three, please, Mrs Billington,’ she said when their secretary appeared. ‘Please sit, Detective Superintendent. You look like you’ve had a night and a half.’
‘I had forgot what it was like to sit by a man’s bedside all night, waiting to see if he’ll wake,’ he said, collapsing into the chair. ‘It reminds me why I sought promotion: so I could sit in a more comfortable office and delegate that task to younger men.’
‘How is he?’ asked Sparks.
‘He made it through the night,’ said Parham. ‘No telling how he’ll do after that.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘He did, finally,’ said Parham. ‘He didn’t see the bottle coming. He had opened the window and was walking away when the explosion hit.’
‘No idea as to who might have done it?’
‘None, unfortunately,’ said Parham.
‘We’ve had one,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
‘Have you?’ he asked in surprise. ‘Why would The Right Sort have any information on an attack on Danforth?’
‘It’s vague and tentative,’ said Mrs Bainbridge. ‘And it’s more for Miss Sparks to tell than me.’
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘This goes back many years,’ said Sparks. ‘There was an incident at Cambridge.’
She gave an abbreviated version of the death of Nancy Spurlock and the events around it.
Mrs Billington appeared with the tea tray a few minutes in and poured for the three, then left.
Parham sipped his absent-mindedly while listening to Sparks.
Partway through her narrative he pulled out his notebook and jotted a few things down, which she found encouraging.
When she was done, he looked at his notes.
‘Can you recall when her body was found?’ he asked.
‘Mid-May,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember the exact date.’
‘And the young men – did they leave England immediately?’
‘No,’ said Sparks. ‘Pickard went on an extended holiday when the term ended. He had graduated, so there was nothing unusual about that. Bruce Cater and Tony Danforth left for Spain in September.’
‘You mentioned the possibility of a letter left behind by this Miss Spurlock. When was that?’
‘Rumours started circulating about it at the end of the term, but nothing concrete was announced by the police or the university.’
‘In that case, it seems to me that had someone wished to seek revenge on her behalf, they would have had time to do so back then,’ said Parham.
‘And whatever may have happened to her, and you still don’t know what it was, I would think that Mr Danforth would not be a target, as opposed to the other two. ’
‘I agree with you on that last point,’ said Sparks.
‘I’ll ring the Cambridge police, see if they have anything in that file, but it doesn’t sound all that promising to me. I’m going to concentrate my efforts here.’
‘Have you found anything else to go on?’ asked Mrs Bainbridge.
‘We’ve knocked on doors of the buildings across the street,’ said Parham.
‘But nobody was looking out their windows to see any shadowy figure heaving a flaming bottle at the time it happened. Mr Danforth could not think of anyone who might want to harm him. He did mention one interesting detail, though.’
‘What?’ asked Sparks.
‘He had only just moved into that flat,’ said Parham. ‘He hadn’t given his new address to the Foreign Office yet. Which means besides the building management at Grenville House, there was only one other place that knew it.’
‘Where was that?’ asked Sparks.
‘He gave it to us, Iris,’ said Mrs Bainbridge quietly. ‘When we interviewed him.’
‘Exactly so,’ said Parham. ‘Did either of you mention it to anyone?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Sparks. ‘Why would we?’
‘No idea,’ admitted Parham. ‘I will ask your secretary as well. Oh, and I’ll need the contact information for the woman who had the date with him.’
‘I have that here,’ said Mrs Bainbridge, opening a file box on her desk containing the index cards for their female clients and pulling Miss Lowle’s from it. She copied down her information and handed it to him.
‘That’s her office number,’ she advised him. ‘She’s with the Ministry of Food.’
‘Thanks,’ said Parham. ‘Did you happen to notice if your doors were unlocked in any of the mornings since you interviewed Danforth?’
‘They weren’t,’ said Sparks. ‘But these locks are not unpickable by any stretch of the imagination.’
‘I happen to know you are speaking with some expertise on that topic,’ he said.
‘Very well. I’m going to grab a kip, then continue on.
My higher-ups would like a quick result in this one.
Oh, I almost forgot. Mr Danforth would be most grateful for a visit from Miss Sparks.
I have placed your name on the visitors’ list.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sparks. ‘I’ll go and see him later today.’
‘Miss Sparks and I plan to keep looking into the Cambridge aspects,’ said Mrs Bainbridge.
‘Be my guests,’ said Parham. ‘Let me know if you turn up anything useful.’
‘You’re not going to tell us not to get involved?’ she asked.
‘When has that ever stopped you?’ he asked. ‘Thank you for the tea, ladies.’
He left. Iris buzzed for Mrs Billington, who appeared a minute later, the morning’s correspondence in her hand.
‘What’s on the schedule for today?’ asked Iris.
‘There’s a Mr Mellon coming in for an interview at eleven,’ replied Mrs Billington. ‘Other than that, nothing.’
‘I can take Mr Mellon while you go to the hospital,’ offered Gwen. ‘Then call me when you’re done, and we can go to Holland Park after.’
‘Who’s in Holland Park?’ asked Mrs Billington.
‘Some old ghosts,’ said Iris.
‘They must be old ghosts with old money,’ said Mrs Billington. ‘I’ll keep the rest of the day’s schedule clear, then.’
‘Thank you, Saundra,’ said Gwen.
The doors of the hospital lift opened on the floor holding the intensive care ward. The nurse at the desk consulted a list, then directed Sparks down a corridor. The room wasn’t hard to spot. It was the one with the police constable standing by the door.
He verified her ID, matching it to a list of his own.
‘I think he’s awake, Miss Sparks,’ he said softly. ‘Be prepared. It’s going to be a bit of a shock.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Then she took a deep breath and went in.
He was lying on his stomach, his back and legs a mass of bandages, more covering his head, leaving only the eyes and mouth free.
A tube running from an intravenous bottle dripped fluid into one arm.
Other tubes ran out of him for purposes she preferred not to know.
Her mind immediately summoned up images of Archie lying on what turned out to be his deathbed in London Hospital, also a mass of tubes, but at least in that case it was still recognizably him.
Here, it could have been almost anyone underneath all of that, were it not for the eyes, which were unmistakably Tony’s.
And they were open and looking at her. One hand lifted from the mattress in a feeble half-wave.
‘Hey,’ he croaked.
‘Hey,’ she returned, pulling a chair over to his bedside and placing her hand gently on his.
‘How do I look?’ he asked.
‘Like Claude Rains before he unwrapped himself in The Invisible Man,’ said Sparks.
‘Drat,’ he said. ‘I was going for Karloff in The Mummy. Thanks for coming, Sparks.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I tried yesterday, but you weren’t receiving callers yet.’
‘How’d you hear about it?’
‘You made the afternoon papers. Sally Danielli rang me when he saw the article.’
‘Danielli’s still hanging about?’
‘Very much so. In fact, he’s dating Gwen now.’
‘The Titan is dating your partner,’ he said. ‘That must be painful for you to watch.’
‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Mostly, it’s awkward. But let’s not talk about me. How are you feeling?’
‘Like I’m floating on a cloud of candyfloss,’ he said. ‘If I had known narcotics were this much fun I would have started using them years ago. I’m so glad you’re here, Sparks. I wanted to apologise to you.’
‘For what?’
‘I was supposed to call you after my date with Miss Lowle. I was distracted from that task.’
‘I was sitting by the telephone all day, you know.’
‘Well, here is my report. I liked her.’
‘I’m so glad,’ said Sparks, keeping her tone light and smile bright. ‘What about her did you like?’
‘She reminded me of you in many ways, strangely enough.’
‘That’s why Gwen chose her,’ said Sparks. ‘She thought the same thing. I confess I don’t see the resemblance, but self-appraisal has never been one of my better qualities. Miss Lowle came by the office this morning, by the way. She had heard about what happened. She was very upset.’
‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘I suppose this will take me out of the running for the near future. Please give her my regrets.’
‘As a matter of fact, she wanted to come visit you,’ said Sparks.
‘I can’t have her see me like this,’ he said. ‘Even if I pull through—’
‘You will,’ she said determinedly.
‘Even if I do, God only knows what I will look like,’ he said.