Barbara Cleverly - Not My Blood

Joe stiffened. “I see that all’s well but-Alfred-who? How?”

“No idea. I thought I’d better keep hold of him for you to take a look at.”

Jenkins took a small fuse from his pocket and said carefully: “Sudden power failure. Poor young gentleman got himself trapped in the lift. Right between floors 2 and 3. I’ll have to call the engineers back again. Unless I can fix it myself. You never know.”

“What! He’s still up there? In the lift?”

“Yes. Top half on your floor and available for interview, you’ll find. You can go up and talk to him through the safety bars.”

“Ah! He’s talking is he?”

“Hardly. Cussing a lot. Must say I can’t get much sense out of him. Though Miss Lydia did manage to get the package off him. Just asked him nicely to pass it through to her when she handed him a cup of coffee. That was before he began to get suspicious, and he didn’t quibble. I don’t think Miss Lydia’s twigged yet. Thought I’d better leave it to you to explain. Anyway, I’ve told the feller we’ve been having problems with the lift. Not sure he believes me. Not sure I believe him if it comes to that. He’s no Derry and Tom’s boy.”

“What makes you so certain of that, Alfred?”

“Didn’t know the name of his department head. Doesn’t know a Partridge from a Peacock apparently. And he tried to tell me the package was for someone name of Sandilands. You’d told me it was for Mrs. Dunsford. It wasn’t much, but enough of a discrepancy to sound the alarm for me. You never lose that ear for a wrong note even when it’s coming from a smiling face. He could have waylaid the genuine delivery boy on the doorstep, offered to carry it in.… It’s an old trick. Anyway, I thought he’d better be detained for your inspection.”

Joe grinned. “A good thought. And a good maneuver. If our chap proves to be who he claims to be-and of a mind to sue for unlawful detention-we can offer our sincere apologies, along with a lot of convincing guff about lift mechanisms. Your contraption has got previous, after all, Alfred. I’ll go and have a chat with him. But first, a phone call to the Yard, I think!”

“My dear chap! How can I apologise?” Joe sank to his knees on a level with a sullen face. “Damn lift! It caught me last week. I was stuck for twenty minutes. Let me assure you we’re doing all we can. Engineer fighting his way through the snow as we speak. I can report that the municipal ploughs and gritters are out on the highways and doing a dashed good job. Won’t be long now! Can I pass you a drink through the bars? Oh, I see my sister’s already obliged.… Banana then?”

A growl and a furious shaking of the grille gripped between large fists betrayed contempt for Joe’s levity. The narrowed eyes directed a violent rage at him, but Joe detected something more-perhaps also a fear amounting, he guessed, or desperation barely under control. It was more than an attack of-what had Lydia called this unreasonable fear of lifts? Claustrophobia? Vertigo? Joe didn’t think a ticking off from Mr. Partridge was the consequence exercising the prisoner’s mind. The man had a feral aura, giving off a sense of danger caged, the whiff of a wolf at bay. Joe was, for a moment, glad of the protection of the creaking metal barrier between them.

He decided to take the tension down a peg. “Hang on, old man! We’ve rung your store to tell them you’ll be delayed. But-wouldn’t you know it! — they haven’t missed you yet. Look, I’m afraid I have to go now.” Joe got to his feet and dusted off his knees. “I shall have to leave you in suspense, hey, what! I’m taking my family away for a week. Weather permitting, of course. Best of luck!”

“Not known to me,” Joe commented to Jenkins. “Nasty piece of work, I’d say. Well kitted out, did you notice? Good silk tie, expensive fedora. Nothing showy-but good. I couldn’t detect a hidden weapon. Though you can hide a knife easily enough under good tailoring. Even a gun. Well-muscled type too. I wouldn’t like to try conclusions with him.”

“Wonder what he was after in your flat, sir?”

Joe shrugged. “I think you know. Something that wasn’t there yesterday morning. The boy. But why? No idea, Alfred! We’ll leave him where he is for a bit. I’ve summoned the two best shadows we have at the Yard. When they’ve checked in and got themselves in position you can put the fuse back in and let him loose. I’d like to know where he goes and whom he contacts. I’ll ask the boys to let him run and get what they can from surveillance before he goes to ground and-if they can judge the moment-jump on him!”

“Frog march him to the Yard on some pretext,” Jenkins said with satisfaction. “I’m sure they’ll find he’s tied his shoelaces the wrong way. Leave it to me, sir. Your luggage is by the door ready for off. I’ll give you a hand while Miss Lydia gets your nephew into his new uniform. She says she’s packed what you need.” He smiled. “And a fair bit more, I’d say. I put the lad’s fancy bag on top of the pile.”

Joe was struggling to push the last of the suitcases into the back of the car when a passing businessman in dark overcoat and bowler stopped to lend a hand then went on his way. Joe barely caught the “Reporting for duty, sir,” as they bent together over the back seat. A discreet glance around gave him no sight of a second presence in the eerily deserted street. Overcast skies, chilly wind. The few pedestrians braving the weather were hurrying, heads down, through the snow, their outlines blurred by overcoats, mufflers and umbrellas. Perfect stalking weather. Joe felt for a moment an ancient stab of excitement, the hot impulse to pursue his quarry on his own two feet.

He wouldn’t keep his men hanging about. He hurried back inside and herded Lydia and Jack into the car, murmuring goodbyes to his landlord and a casual, “Well, there we are at last. Thanks for your help, Alfred. All arrangements in place, I think.”

“He’s fallen asleep, Joe,” Lydia reported as they chugged their way through the last of the London suburbs. “Thought he might. He went to bed very late last night and was up and about early, and then there was all the excitement of playing railways.”

“To say nothing of the snug little nest you made up for him in the back there.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what this is all about?”

“If I knew myself I certainly would.”

“Do you mean to tell me you gleaned nothing from your hastily arranged meeting at the Yard? I don’t believe you. Who did you manage to drum up to see you? Anyone available, or did you have to consult the tea-lady?”

“Oh, there were people there. An Education minister, two private secretaries, Miss Peto, the Commissioner himself.… Will that do to be going on with?”

“Big guns! But what was Miss Peto doing there?”

“There’s a child involved. Waifs, strays, children and tarts-they all trigger a female presence. I was offered the flower of the Force to escort young Jackie back into the lions’ den. I turned down the offer for the time being since I have you on hand, Lyd. I’d rather handle this school with discretion and walking in escorted by a female policeman in full kit would not be the way to do it. A concerned family member-that’s fine. But all these characters played walk-on roles-the star of the show was the Secretary of State for Reform.”

“James Truelove?”

“That’s the man.”

“But what could he possibly have to say to you , Joe? Do you need reforming? Why is he meddling in police business?”

“Well, of course, he oughtn’t to be. And, as far as I can see to it, he won’t. The police force isn’t at the beck and call of the government. We need to remind them occasionally that it’s the country we serve, not ministers. This new office of state someone’s thought fit to endow him with worries me. It’s a bit nebulous, a bit embryonic. I mean-name anything that couldn’t do with a bit of reforming! Where do you start?”