A Three Dog Problem
- Автор: Беннет Си Джей
- Серия: Her Majesty the Queen Investigates #2
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Zaffre - Bonnier Publishing Fiction
- ISBN: 978-1-83877-485-1
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «A Three Dog Problem». Краткое содержание книги:
When a body is found in the Palace swimming pool, she finds herself once again in the middle of an investigation which has more twists and turns than she could ever have suspected. With her trusted secretary Rozie by her side, the Queen is determined to solve the case. But will she be able to do it before the murderer strikes again?
‘I’m sure you’ll deal with it,’ she said with a practised smile, at which he visibly relaxed. ‘Now if you can just get me the briefing notes, that would be very kind.’
While he was away, she considered what to do. Her Private Secretary was clearly still discombobulated by his discovery of the body, and even a man of his immense capability was not above taking the stress out on a more junior staff member who didn’t deserve it. She felt slightly guilty for giving him such a ready target in her APS. It was she who had encouraged Rozie to spill the beans about Mrs Harris, and then undermined the Master by calling in the police.
Three women had been targeted by the poison pen campaign. The Keeper’s secretary had resigned, the woman in the catering office was on sick leave with stress, and the housekeeper was dead – in the most extraordinary manner. No one else seemed unduly concerned, but the Queen made no apology whatsoever for her response. She had asked the chief inspector to be as diplomatic as possible, but no doubt it grated.
Meanwhile, Rozie was having to take the flak. It might be best if she wasn’t around for a few days. Sir Simon and the Master would have a chance to settle down and it would give the girl a little break from this atmosphere.
She looked through the printout of today’s engagements. After the visit from the President of Croatia, she had audiences lined up with three senior members of the Armed Forces. William was holding the day’s investiture in the Ballroom. Philip was hosting dairy farmers to a meeting in the Bow Room and heart and lung researchers to lunch afterwards in the 1844 Room. There were a couple of private audiences in the afternoon, and the evening called for silk and sparkles at a reception at the Royal Academy. However, one could squeeze in a few spare minutes between walking the dogs and getting changed, if one was careful. She made a note.
At the appropriate time, Rozie arrived at Her Majesty’s private sitting room for a chat. The room was cosy and comfortable, with plump cushions on upholstered chairs, family photographs on most surfaces and a series of lamps to cast a gentle glow. But the setting did nothing, it seemed, to put Rozie at her ease. The poor girl was trying to hide it, but the Queen had never seen her look so alarmed. She stood rigidly in the middle of the room, as if bracing herself for bad news. Whatever Sir Simon had been saying to her, it wasn’t reassuring.
‘I have a slightly unusual proposition for you, Rozie,’ the Queen said from the sofa.
‘Ma’am?’
‘I’d like you to pay a visit to someone who used to work for me.’
‘Yes?’ Rozie’s eyes widened. This was not what she’d been anticipating.
‘A man called Sholto Harvie. He’s an art historian. He used to work here in the nineteen eighties, and he might be able to shed some light on how my little painting ended up in the archives of the Ministry of Defence.’
‘I understood you were getting that back.’
‘I am,’ the Queen acknowledged, ‘but I still don’t understand why I should need to. There’s something not quite right.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t manage to solve it for you over the summer. I tried as hard as I—’
‘I’m sure you did your best. You’re usually successful, and that’s one of the things that strikes me as odd.’
Rozie looked confused. ‘I don’t . . .’
‘If everything was as it should be, you would have traced it quite easily from this end. The fact that you didn’t makes me uneasy. As the Surveyor at the time is no longer with us, I’m hoping Mr Harvie, his old deputy, might be able to help. He lives in the Cotswolds, I believe, and I’d like you to pay him a visit. It was all a very long time ago and it may take him a little while to remember something useful, so I suggest you offer to stay nearby and pop in a couple of days in a row.’
By now Rozie’s eyes were almost perfectly round with surprise. ‘You want me to go to the Cotswolds? For a couple of days?’
The Queen faked a grimace. ‘Or even three.’
‘I don’t think I can spare the time, ma’am. There’s the chief inspector, and the state visit to finalise, and your speech about peacemaking . . .’
‘The chief inspector can look after himself. Are you on top of the state visit and the speech?’
‘Well, yes, I am, but—’
‘Can you work on them from your laptop?’
‘I could, but—’
‘Could you go this weekend?’
Rozie swallowed. The Queen sensed she was struggling with something. ‘You’re busy?’
‘A friend’s getting married on Saturday,’ Rozie admitted.
‘I’d hate you to miss a wedding. Go on Sunday. Stay until Tuesday if you need to, assuming Mr Harvie’s at home.’
‘But on Tuesday you have the Patriarch of Moscow and the Archbishop. The High Commissioner . . .’
‘Sir Simon can brief me. They’ve met me before. We all know what we’re doing.’
Rozie gave her a look of pure bemusement. All this for a painting? it said.
Well, yes. And a bit of distance from Sir Simon. The Queen agreed, privately, how odd it must seem, but she still couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was off and it would be remiss not to try and find out what it was.
Chapter 12
Sholto Harvie, Rozie discovered, lived in one of the loveliest villages in the Cotswolds, in a cottage so beautiful it had featured in two national magazines.
He sounded delighted to get her call. ‘How wonderful to hear from the Palace!’ He insisted that she should stay with him for a couple of nights, rather than ‘shacking up at some little B & B in the middle of nowhere’. If he was amazed – astonished, even – to be approached out of the blue in this way, he gave no hint of it. Instead, he was all bonhomie, busily exchanging email addresses and sending her a detailed list of directions to his cottage and asking her to bring a couple of French cheeses from Fortnum’s that he couldn’t source in Wiltshire, for which he would happily reimburse her.
Rozie ended up working late on the Friday night to get through as much of her overcrowded inbox as she possibly could. On Saturday morning, upstairs in her little attic rooms, she was woken by the cheerful banging of the cleaner’s trolley and the sound of Lulu Antares singing.
Rozie opened her door to say hello, to find that Lulu was nursing one arm in a sling. Rozie didn’t ask why. They had the usual conversation about towels and linen and Lulu asked what Rozie was up to today. She explained about the wedding.
‘Ooh, lovely! I do like a good bash. Are they having it somewhere posh?’
‘Just a church in Canterbury and a local hotel.’
‘Are you spending the whole weekend down there?’ Lulu asked. ‘Only, I’ve got a cousin in Whitstable and it’s not very far and they do the most incredible fish and chips. It’s perfect for Sunday.’
‘I’d love to,’ Rozie said wistfully. There was going to be a man at the wedding she would have very much liked to eat incredible fish and chips with on the Sunday. But it wasn’t to be, and probably better that way. Rekindled old relationships were usually a disaster. He’d probably show up with a girlfriend and anyway, one-night stands were tacky. She lost her train of thought. ‘What was I saying?’
‘You’d love to, but . . .?’ Lulu looked hopeful.
‘I’m off to Wiltshire,’ Rozie said, indulging her. Repeating her strange plans aloud made them seem more real somehow. ‘I’m staying with an old member of staff, actually. He worked here back in the eighties. He has this amazing cottage in the Cotswolds, apparently.’
Lulu rested her good hand on the trolley. ‘Not Mr Harvie?’