LITMIR.BIZ

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steps in Amos’s direction.

      ‘What is it, Amos? You look as if you need to speak to me, and quite urgently.’

      ‘I do need to have a word, sir, but it’s not urgent. I can speak with you tomorrow morning, if you’d prefer.’

      ‘I can’t tomorrow morning, I’m afraid,’ Edward answered, remembering the appointment Jane had made for them to view the Renoir painting. ‘How about now? Shall we step outside into the hall?’

      ‘Yes, Mr Edward, if that’s all right.’

      ‘It’s fine.’ He went over to Stephen, who now stood near the window, and muttered, ‘Finnister needs a word with me. Excuse me for a moment, will you?’

      ‘Of course.’

      Following Amos out, Edward said, ‘Too much staff clearing up out here. Let’s step into the library.’

      ‘Good idea, sir.’

      Once they were ensconced in the library overlooking the garden, Edward asked, ‘What’s on your mind? You look worried.’

      ‘No, I’m not worried. It’s like this, sir. Last night I had dinner with Charlie at the Ritz, and he went to say hello to another officer, who’d just come into the restaurant. A major he’d been in two different hospitals with. When he returned to the table I asked him who the man was, and he said he was a friend by the name of Cedric Crawford.’

      Edward was so startled to hear this name from the past he simply gaped at Amos for a moment, genuinely dumbfounded. Finally, he said, ‘The Cedric Crawford who lived with Tabitha James? Is that who you mean? Well, I suppose you do: after all it’s quite an unusual name.’

      ‘That’s right, sir, and I don’t think there are two of them.’

      ‘So you’re obviously planning to do something about this, knowing you as well as I do, Amos.’

      ‘I’m taking them both to dinner tomorrow. I hope to establish his identity at least.’

      ‘And then what?’

      ‘I thought I would ask him about Tabitha James.’

      ‘Will he tell you the truth? We both agreed she wasn’t murdered, because if she had been the police would have been involved at the time, whatever Grace Rose said when you found her. After all, she was only four.’

      ‘I’m hoping he can tell me what Tabitha’s fate really was, and also where she’s buried. I think that would be a good thing for Grace Rose to know, Mr Edward. Set her mind at rest.’

      ‘She’s talked about this to you, hasn’t she?’ Edward murmured, as perceptive as always, and understanding Grace Rose as well as he did.

      ‘Yes, she has. I’ve even taken her down to Whitechapel at different times, with Mrs Vicky’s permission of course. And naturally she’s been to Haddon House over the years. Nothing’s ever been hidden from her. Mrs Vicky has always believed in telling her the truth.’

      ‘And rightly so. It would’ve been silly to keep things a secret.’ A reflective look settled in Edward’s eyes for a moment, and he stood holding the brandy balloon, staring into its amber depths. At last he said, ‘Find out what you can, Amos. It will be quite interesting to hear what he has to say. But don’t expect too much, because perhaps he doesn’t know much of anything. After all, he could have left her. Or she could have left him … it’s all something of a mystery … and one we might never fathom.’

FOURTEEN

      In all his years as a policeman and then a private investigator, Amos Finnister had learned about people and knew how to read them. He had a psychological insight into most, and usually understood the motivations of others. This aside, he had acquired a certain charm. He was at ease with people from all walks of life, and they were at ease with him. Certainly he had a way with them, handled them with expertise and finesse.

      And this was most apparent on Friday evening, when Charlie and Major Cedric Crawford dined with him at the Ritz Restaurant. As it turned out, he discovered that the major was the perfect English gentleman, well mannered and genial, and from a distinguished family. And Charlie was being himself tonight, playing the perfect English gentleman as he had done so often on the stage in London and New York.

      Amos knew how to make people relax, and by the time they were halfway through dinner he had the major laughing, and sharing stories, some of which were hilarious. And as Amos joined in the general hilarity, told stories himself, and chatted mostly about inconsequential things, he listened and watched, trying to observe the major surreptitiously in order to properly weigh him up.

      By the time they had eaten the main course, Amos felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of Tabitha James. At a given moment he glanced at Charlie, a quizzical expression on his face, and Charlie gave him a quick nod.

      After taking another sip of the good French wine he had ordered, a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Amos put down his glass and leaned back in the chair, not wanting to appear intrusive or in any way threatening.

      Speaking in his ordinary, neutral tone, Amos said, ‘I wonder if you’d mind my asking you something, Major?’

      ‘No, not at all. What is it you’d like to know, Finnister?’

      Having worked out a simple story before dinner, one based on truth, Amos had it ready and on the tip of his tongue. ‘Before I begin I’d just like to explain something … I’m wondering if you happen to know a friend of mine.’

      The major’s eyes were glued on Amos. ‘Who would that be?’

      ‘Lady Fenella Fayne. Have you ever come across her?’

      ‘No, I haven’t, I’m afraid. But I do know who she is, I think everyone does. Great philanthropist, so I’ve read, and a woman who has devoted her time, energy and money to helping women … women at risk, shall we say? I believe she’s the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne.’

      ‘That’s correct, and her father is the Earl of Tanfield. Some years ago Lady Fenella tried to find a friend of hers from Yorkshire, where she herself comes from originally – a lady friend who had disappeared in London. She did manage to find out, through another acquaintance, that her friend had ended up living in the East End, in Whitechapel or thereabouts, and that her friend had been acquainted with a gentleman by the name of Cedric Crawford. That wasn’t by any chance your good self, was it Major?’

      Cedric Crawford nodded at once, showing no signs of embarrassment or reluctance to admit to knowing the woman Amos was referring to. ‘I did know a lady who lived in Whitechapel by the name of Tabitha James. I knew her quite well, actually. You see, she was an extremely close friend of a fellow guards officer, Sebastian Lawford. At one moment I did believe they were going to marry – they were very much in love. But unfortunately that did not come to pass.’

      ‘And why was that, Major, do you know?’

      ‘Oh yes, I’m afraid I do. Tabitha James became very ill. Actually, she had contracted consumption, and then she was felled by double pneumonia. Before I knew it, she was dead and gone.’

      ‘I see. So you went to their home in Whitechapel, did you?’

      ‘It was Tabitha’s home, in point of fact. She wouldn’t move to a better place for some reason – though, with all due respect, Seb had tried to install her in a cottage that was more than comfortable. I have no idea why she was so obdurate.’ He shook his head, and finished, ‘It was all very sad because she was obviously a genuine lady: what I mean is, a woman of breeding.’

      ‘She was indeed. She was Lady Tabitha Brockhaven, and her late father was the Earl of Brockhaven,’ Amos informed him.

      It was obvious that the major was surprised; Amos thought he looked thunderstruck, even a little disbelieving. He waited, wanting this information to sink in.

      Cedric

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