A Three Dog Problem

‘Is the chief inspector not with you?’ she asked, looking somewhat surprised as the triumvirate gathered round her near the fireplace

‘No, ma’am,’ Sir James confirmed. ‘He’s away as part of the investigation. In fact, we’re expecting news from him at any moment. Sir Simon had an extraordinary—’

‘We don’t need to talk about that,’ the Private Secretary interrupted with a self-effacing flap of the hand. He’d been getting good at these recently. ‘It may come to nothing. We’ll let you know if there are any developments, ma’am.’

‘Oh, good. So why are you here?’ She looked expectantly back at Sir James.

‘Since Sir Simon found the body on Tuesday,’ the Keeper said, ‘we’ve discovered an enormous amount about Eric Ferguson. None of it good, I’m afraid.’

‘Go on.’

‘Mr Ferguson – and as the ultimate head of Operations I take full responsibility for this, ma’am – was someone who should never have been allowed to come within a mile of this place. He was a very dangerous individual, with morbid tastes. The police discovered a lot of violent material on his computer and a large cache of weapons at his flat. The walls were covered in them, like the armoury at Hampton Court. Nobody knew, because it turned out he never invited anyone home. Not from the Household, anyway. They’re all talking about it now.’

‘I’m sure they must be.’

‘But more to the point, ma’am, perhaps, is the fact that they also found half a dozen crystal tumblers in his kitchen, similar to the ones used at the Palace. His computer records showed he had ordered eighteen of them. It looks as though he’d been experimenting with making the damn things lethal.’

‘Goodness. Really? Oh dear. Is this what the police think too?’

‘It is, ma’am,’ Sir Simon agreed, stepping in. ‘They are convinced, now, as we had begun to fear, that Cynthia Harris’s death was not an accident, far from it. I’m sure the chief inspector will be able to confirm it himself very soon.’

‘And Neil Hudson? Was he involved?’ the Queen enquired meekly.

Sir Simon noted the frank humility in her clear blue eyes and shook his head gently. ‘No, ma’am, I’m afraid that was always an unlikely possibility.’

‘I see. Never mind.’

‘It did throw up a useful line of enquiry. But meanwhile, the police have uncovered some rather devastating details about Ferguson’s work life, haven’t they, James?’

‘They have indeed,’ Sir James said. ‘It’s why I wanted to talk to you, ma’am. We were rather lucky with a very talented young cyber security officer at the National Crime Agency. Digging around Ferguson’s computer files, he discovered that for at least two years Ferguson has been running a major scam at the Palace. It’s known as the Breakages Business. I believe you were aware of it.’

The Queen’s eyes widened. They caught Rozie’s for a moment, who nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Good gracious,’ she said. ‘Running it? But he was quite junior, wasn’t he?’

‘Middle management, ma’am,’ Sir James said, ‘but that was the clever part. He was operating well below the radar. I must admit, I wasn’t sure about his boss – a man called Mick Clements. But I’d never suspected anything of Ferguson. We might not have discovered him for months, or years.’

‘How did he do it?’

‘We’re still piecing it together,’ Sir James admitted. The thing is, ma’am,’ and here he paused, so Her Majesty could keep up with all the revelations, ‘we think this gives him a motive for being the true person behind the poison pen campaign.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Astonishing, I know. You see, one of my secretaries was convinced there was an issue with the Reservicing Programme. We now think that what she had discovered was not a mistake, but a deliberate fraud, masterminded by Ferguson. Her name is Mary van Renen and she was one of the targets of the harassment. We believe that Ferguson mounted a successful campaign to get her to leave. Fortunately for us, her work was taken over by Rozie here, who was targeted for the same reason.’

The Queen glanced across at Rozie again, who kept her face entirely neutral. She was learning. The two of them had a lot to talk about.

‘I see,’ the Queen said. ‘How fascinating, and how awful. What about the other letters?’

‘Oh, they were pure misogyny,’ the Master said, opening his mouth for the first time. He was here because of the relevance to his staff. ‘Mrs Harris and Mrs Baxter were both highly unpopular. Ferguson may have chosen them for that reason, or he may have had his own personal motives. I imagine a psychologist would say he found strong-minded women a threat, ma’am.’