Jacqueline Winspear - The Mapping of Love and Death

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"And I have a feeling I'm to forget you ever asked me these questions, and never mention them again."

"It would be better."

"Lunch later in the week, then?"

"I'd love to. Oh, and Pris-I am so glad you're living in London."

"Me too, Maisie. After a troubled start getting us all settled, me too."

"I'll call tomorrow."

"Cheerio, Maisie."

"'Bye, Pris."

Maisie continued with her work for a while longer, but looked up when she heard the front door open and close, and a moment later, Billy returned to the office.

"That was quick."

"Didn't take long, Miss. And look, two birds with one stone-I was just opening the front door, and a messenger came along with an envelope for you. It's from the Compton Corporation." He held out the plain manila envelope with the company's insignia and address.

"Just what I was waiting for." She took the envelope and reached for her paper knife, nodding to Billy to take the chair in front of her desk. "What did you find out?"

"I thought I would have to go out to double-check against some parish records, but I found everything I needed at Somerset House. Here you are, all the particulars you asked for on Christopher Adam Giles Casterman. Born 1917."

Maisie put down the envelope and took the sheet of paper from Billy. "Hmmm."

"Something missing?"

She shook her head. "No, it's all here. It says he was born at the family's London home."

"His dad must have been right chuffed, you know, finally getting the son and heir, after having two daughters," said Billy.

"Yes, he must have been delighted."

"And it's really sad, when you think of it. That he didn't live to see his son grown up into a man."

Maisie nodded as she read. "Yes, it was."

They were interrupted by the doorbell.

"What, again? It's like Piccadilly Circus in here. I'll go and see who it is."

While Billy went downstairs, Maisie put the paper to one side, continued opening the envelope, and sat down to read through the notes sent by Lord Julian's contact. She was returning the pages to the envelope when Billy came into the room.

"Chap by the name of Roland came with this for you, from Henry Gilbert. Said Mr. Gilbert wanted you to have it straightaway. Nice bloke, told me all about how they had to get this done by bringing in another camera and-"

"Thank you, Billy. I've been waiting for this." Maisie reached for the envelope and took out the photograph. The image was blurred at the edges and still grainy, but as Gilbert explained in the accompanying note:

One of my contacts was able to do this for you. As you can see, the image being smaller than on the screen gives it more definition. I think you can see our raging ogre's face a little better.

She sat with the photograph in front of her, then set it down and went back over her notes and read for a while before picking up the telephone receiver. Upon connecting with the Scotland Yard exchange, she was put through to Detective Inspector Caldwell without delay.

"Miss Dobbs, what a nice surprise. I'm having a testing day, so I do hope you have some good news for me. If I have to see that embassy chap one more time, I will have to start singing the American national anthem."

"I have the information I've been waiting for." She looked up at the clock. "If you can be here later on this afternoon, I will go through my findings with you, and we should be ready to make our move."

"We should be ready to make our move?"

"Yes, Detective Inspector. I daresay you can break down the door without me, but you won't get anything else. I'll tell you what I know and what I think we should do. We can be at the home of the person at the heart of the attacks on Edward and Martha Clifton by lunchtime tomorrow and have the laundry washed and dried, so to speak, by mid-afternoon. I'll leave you to put it away, if I may, as I have an appointment at half past three, but I'll come to the Yard afterward for a debriefing, if that suits you."

"And what if I don't agree to this plan you've been cooking up in your head?"

"Do you know another way to get the embassy chap off your back by teatime tomorrow?"

"I'll see you later, then."

"I'll be here, Inspector. Oh, and Inspector, the person we're planning to bring in is a murderer, of that I am sure."

Maisie set the receiver on the hook, picked up the dossier from Lord Julian's office, along with Billy's notes, and walked across the room to the case map. Billy joined her.

"Is it all falling into place, Miss?" asked Billy.

Maisie nodded, but said nothing.

"You all right, Miss?"

She swallowed back tears that could come all too easily if she allowed them to fall. "I was just thinking about Maurice, how we would always talk before a time such as this. He once said to me that it was my equivalent of going off into battle, you know, clambering out and into the no-man's-land where you don't know what might happen, what the outcome might be. You only know that you are marching off and trusting that it will all come right in the end."

Billy looked down, embarrassed by his employer's candor. "Don't mind me saying, Miss, but life's always a bit like that, ain't it? You never know what's going to happen. You just hope everything turns out for the best. And I reckon if Dr. Blanche were here, he'd just ask if you've taken all precautions to look after yourself. And he'd say to have a bit of time on your own today, you know, before the whistle blows." He turned away. "I'll go and put the kettle on, so you can have a quick five minutes to yourself. All right?"

She nodded. "Thank you, Billy."

When he had left the room, Maisie sat back in the armchair. She closed her eyes and tried to still her mind. But the vision that came to her was not one of nothingness, or even of an empty night sky. Instead the vision was that of a valley in a place far away, a fertile land rich with sycamores and oaks amid golden pastures, and earth kissed by the fragrance of blossom from plentiful orchards, and the salty warmth of air carried across mountains from the Pacific Ocean.

Maisie's first task the following morning was to make the appointment she hoped would lead to an arrest. At noon she left the office in Fitzroy Square to meet Detective Inspector Caldwell, as arranged during their meeting the previous afternoon. Billy walked her to her motor car.

"You reckon you'll be all right, Miss?"

"I'll have a lorry-load of burly policemen at my back. In any case, don't worry about me."

"What do I say if Viscount Compton calls here for you?"

Maisie looked at her assistant, her head to one side. "What made you say that?"

Billy shrugged. "I dunno, Miss. It's just the sort of thing that might happen, ain't it? I mean, there's you going off into your no-man's-land, and it'll be just my luck that if anyone's bound to get on the old dog and bone and put me on the spot, it's him."

"Why him?"

"Well, Miss, it's obvious he's taken a shine to you, and he won't want to know you're putting yourself in danger, will he?"

"Let's assume my life is far from being in danger, and I am just going about my work. If he telephones, tell him I am out-which is exactly what I am-and that I'm having tea with Lady Rowan this afternoon at half past three." She took her keys from her shoulder bag. "That should give him plenty to think about."

"Take care, Miss."

"Don't worry, Billy, I will be perfectly safe. And I will telephone you as soon as I can after the police have completed the arrest-I won't keep you waiting for news."

Maisie arrived at the designated meeting place-at the end of a street of grand terraced homes in Hampstead-and waited for the black Invicta police vehicle to arrive. She envisioned the conversation that would soon take place with Peter Whitting, running back through her planned lines as if she were rehearsing a play, and hoping her words would draw him out. He was a man whose anger seemed parasitic, as if it were eating away at him from a place deep inside his being. She knew the only way to achieve the confession she needed was to goad him.