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?
Not as much as they found him, the Queen thought to herself. She felt for Mrs Baxter, a ‘difficult woman’ who had been chosen for harm merely to cause confusion. And so far it had worked.
‘Either way, it confused us for a while,’ the Master went on, ‘because of course we were focused on Mrs Harris and not Miss van Renen, who was perhaps the victim most in danger.’
‘Except that it was Mrs Harris who died,’ the Queen said drily.
‘There is that, ma’am. There is indeed that.’ He coughed and shuffled his feet. ‘We’re still looking into it.’
‘You mean the police are?’ the Queen asked, sharply enough to make them all swallow.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Mike Green agreed swiftly. ‘When I say “we”, I mean all of us together. Now the police suspect Ferguson as a criminal and a murderer, they are re-examining all the evidence. Bog— I mean the chief inspector, has a large team working on it, reporting to his superintendent at the Met.’
‘How reassuring. But there’s still one thing I assume we don’t know – or you’d have told me.’
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Who killed Mr Ferguson?’
‘Ah.’ It was Sir Simon who answered. ‘On that note, I trust we will have news for you in the morning.’ His expression was bland, but inside he was as excited as the day he got his Wings. ‘Along with a full report on what we’ve already told you. We thought you’d appreciate the headlines while they were fresh.’
‘I do indeed,’ the Queen said, smiling gratefully at all of them. ‘It is always such a comfort to me to know that you have everything under control.’
Chapter 46
When the boxes came the following morning, the Queen hoped that it would be Rozie who brought them. Sir Simon’s name was in the calendar, but it was her APS she really wanted to talk to.
She beamed when it was indeed Rozie who was ushered in.
‘Well done,’ she said, without asking how the girl had done it. One came to rely on people who knew what was required and somehow made it happen. ‘That was interesting last night, wasn’t it?’
‘They missed a few things,’ Rozie said, placing the red boxes carefully on the Queen’s desk.
‘Yes, didn’t they?’
‘They didn’t seem to spot that I got my first note before I got involved in the Reservicing Programme stuff.’
‘Mmm. Or that Mrs Harris got her first one years ago. They haven’t had long though, have they? To think about it, I mean.’
‘No. And they have a lot on their minds. Chief Inspector Strong has been very busy. He’s not here today, by the way, ma’am. He still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.’
‘The killer of Mr Ferguson?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
The Queen didn’t press her. She was about to dismiss the girl and start on her papers, but saw that she was looking pensive.
‘Was there something else?’
‘Only . . .’ Rozie sighed and shrugged. ‘I should have got it before. Eric was always very strange. Always in the background and just a little bit creepy. I suppose I put it down to an odd personality. I thought he was holding Mick Clements back that day in the cellars. He was, but only because he knew they’d get caught.’
‘I agree,’ the Queen said. ‘Mr Ferguson was the cunning one. It wasn’t your job to catch him, Rozie. You’ve done well as it is. Whoever chose him to run the Breakages Business certainly knew what they were doing.’
‘Sir Simon’s looking into that, ma’am. He’s looking into a lot of things.’
The Queen smiled up at her from her desk.
‘Oh, good.’
Sir Simon’s wife, Sarah, who had cooked coq au vin for them both, listened that night as he explained the last three days’ proceedings to her over the dining table at Kensington Palace, while candlelight threw dancing shadows on his eager, intelligent face.
She loved him when he was like this. It made up, or at least sometimes partly made up, for all those nights he worked very late, and those weeks when he was away. There were three of them in this marriage, and the third person headed the Commonwealth and always held all the cards. But, in return, there were moments like this, when Lady Holcroft (Rah to her friends) watched as her husband held all the secrets of the realm in his capable hands, and she knew they were safe with him. He was even more of a hero than she had imagined. Not just brave but brilliantly insightful and clever. It was extraordinary the way he had made the crucial connection in absolutely record time. He was constantly checking his phone for updates, but they were of national importance, so she didn’t mind.
‘Are you really James Bond?’ she asked, later.
‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that question,’ he said, slightly breathless, in a gruff Scottish accent.
‘Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to—’
He didn’t let her finish. The last couple of months had been dark and bloody, but now he could sense the shadows lifting. Like Robert the Bruce, he felt his strength returning. He wanted to celebrate.
The news they were waiting for failed to arrive in the following hours, but the investigations continued apace. Along with several hand-picked underlings from his unit, Chief Inspector Strong returned to his temporary incident room at the Palace, whose corridor in the North Wing was vacuum-sealed against leaks. Rozie, who knew everything, was begged and bribed for whatever snippets she could share – but, like the senior men she worked with, she was incorruptible. She wouldn’t even give any hints to her sister, who both respected and mercilessly teased her for it. More to the point, she didn’t tell the Queen – who didn’t ask.
‘Are they on the right lines, would you say?’ was all she wanted to know.
‘I think so, ma’am. They’ve made the appropriate connections.’
‘Splendid! Then we shall wait.’
On Friday evening, the day after her audience with the triumvirate, the Queen found out that her friend and cousin Margaret Rhodes had died. She spent the weekend at Windsor feeling very sad, and going over old photograph albums of her girlhood, accompanied by Lady Louise, Edward’s lovely girl, which helped.
But Louise had to keep asking who everyone was. Who could she reminisce with now? All the official engagements were recorded in minute detail, but what about the unofficial ones? The private moments of hilarity and grief? First her sister, then Mummy, then Cousin Margaret, and even the dogs . . .
After dinner on Saturday, Philip spent the evening with her, instead of on his own pursuits. It was a thoughtful gesture. He presented her with the little oil painting he’d been working on in the Octagon Room in the Brunswick Tower, and then back in his study at the Palace. It was a perfect rendition of the lawn at Balmoral, seen from the castle, and in the very centre was the spot they’d picked for Holly’s grave. So that was what had been absorbing his attention. She looked up with glistening eyes.
‘You can hang it outside your bedroom at BP, if you like,’ he suggested gruffly. ‘In place of that ghastly Australian thing.’
‘If you mean the Britannia, that’s coming back soon, I hope. And I won’t replace it. But I’ll find this one a home.’
‘You can use it to eat your toast off,’ he said. ‘I don’t care.’
‘I’ll hang it in my bedroom.’
‘You don’t have to.’
And so, with gentle bickering, he took her mind off what she was feeling and made it easier to regain her normal fortitude and look to the future, as one always tried to do.