Anne Perry - Callander Square

He grinned widely.

”I believe it, my lady. I hope if you think of anything that might help me, however slight, you will let me know, immediately. For heaven’s sake, don’t deal with this yourself. He has killed once, maybe more than once.”

“I give you my word,” she said convincingly.

He saw Brandy a little later in the same room.

“What’s happened now?” Brandy demanded. “Not someone else dead!”

“No, and I want to see that it does not happen again. I must find out who killed Dr. Bolsover, before he feels threatened again.”

“Threatened?” Brandy looked worried.

“Dr. Bolsover was a blackmailer, Mr. Balantyne. That is almost certainly why he was killed.”

“Who was he blackmailing, do you know?”

“Mr. Southeron, at least.”

“Good-Reggie didn’t kill him, surely?”

“You think that unlikely?”

“Well-yes-I do. Somehow Reggie just doesn’t seem like-to be honest, I wouldn’t think he had the nerve!” Brandy smiled apologetically.

“Nor I,” Pitt agreed. “He said it was Jemima Waggoner who killed Dr. Bolsover-”

“What?” All the color blanched from Brandy’s face. “Jemima? That’s idiotic! Why on earth would Jemima kill anyone?”

“Because she was his partner in blackmail, and she became greedy over the spoils, and they quarreled-”

“He’s a liar!” This time there was no mistaking Brandy’s emotion, it was rage. “That’s your answer! Reggie killed him, and is lying to protect himself. There’s the proof of it! If he said Jemima blackmailed him, then he’s a liar!” His face was set, angry and defensive.

“One can lie to cover many things, Mr. Balantyne,” Pitt said quietly. “Not necessarily murder. Mr. Southeron panics rather easily.”

“He’s a liar!” Brandy’s voice was rising. “You can’t believe she-Jemima-” he stopped suddenly, struggling to control himself. He swallowed and began again. “I’m sorry. I feel very strongly about it. I’m sure Jemima is innocent, and I shall find a way to prove it to you.”

“I shall be grateful for all help,” Pitt smiled. “Did Dr. Bolsover approach you, sir?”

“No. Whatever for?”

“Money, favors, anything?”

“Of course not!”

“I thought you might have been prepared to pay, for example, to protect Lady Carlton.”

Brandy flushed deeply.

“How did you know about that?”

Pitt evaded an answer.

“Did he?”

“No. I’m pretty sure he had no idea. It was hardly a thing he would come in contact with. I mean, he might have known she was with child, being a doctor, and so on; but nothing about me. But all that is less important than seeing that Jemima is cleared. Please, Inspector,” he hesitated, “please get to the bottom of that.”

Pitt smiled very gently.

“You care about her, don’t you?”

“I-” Brandy seemed lost. He looked up. “Yes-I–I think I do.”

Pitt also visited Robert Carlton, more to inform him that Freddie had been a blackmailer than with any hope that Carlton might admit to having been a victim himself. He made his questions discreet, almost to the point of nonexistence, as he felt Carlton’s cooperation was of more value than any possible involvement he might reluctantly divulge.

He could think of no reason why the Dorans should have attracted Freddie’s attention. The whole business of Helena was laid bare for public speculation before Freddie was killed, so he left them to the privacy of their grief.

Lastly he visited the Campbells. He knew of no reason why they should have been put under pressure either, but it was always possible there was some indiscretion as yet unguessed at, although of course they would hardly be likely to tell him. But many small clues were to be found in the most guarded conversations: frequently the very guard itself was an indication of the existence of something to hide.

He saw Mariah first, since Campbell himself was busy in his study writing letters. She was very calm and expressed nothing more than a deep sympathy for Sophie. He learned nothing from her whatsoever, beyond the increasing impression that she was a strong woman who had already surmounted hardships, even griefs, and would bend herself willingly to assist Sophie to endure the shock that was overwhelming her now, and the shame which was doubtless to come.

He was obliged to wait some quarter of an hour before Garson Campbell sent for him to come to his study. He found Campbell standing in front of the fire, feet wide apart, rocking a little backward and forward. He looked angry.

“Well, Pitt, what is it?” he said tersely.

Pitt decided immediately there was no point in trying to be subtle. This was a clever and aggressive man who would see and avoid any attempt at verbal traps laid for him.

“Did you know Dr. Bolsover was a blackmailer?” he asked.

Campbell considered for a moment.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

Pitt felt a quickening of excitement.

“How did you know that, sir?”

Campbell’s cold gray eyes looked at him with bitter amusement. “Not because he was blackmailing me, Inspector. One of his victims came to me for advice. Naturally I cannot tell you who.”

Pitt knew there was no purpose at all in pressing him. Some people he might have been able to coerce, or frighten, or even overcome by power of personality-but not Garson Campbell.

“Can you tell me what advice you gave this person?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” Campbell smiled slightly. “I advised them to pay, for the time being. It was an indiscretion, not a crime. The danger of its becoming public and doing any real harm would shortly pass. I also promised to speak to Freddie and warn him that such a trick would not work a second time.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“And what was Dr. Bolsover’s reaction?”

“Not very reliable, I would think, Inspector. A man capable of blackmail would not jib at a little lying.”

“Blackmail is a sneaking, underhanded crime, Mr. Campbell. A blackmailer relies on secrecy, and is usually a coward. He might well have been frightened by a more powerful man-which Mr. Southeron is not, but you are.”

Campbell’s eyebrows went up in amusement.

“So you knew about it?”

“Of course,” Pitt allowed himself the luxury of a little arrogance.

“And you have not arrested poor Reggie? He’s an awful ass. Panics very easily.”

“So I notice,” Pitt agreed. “But also something of a coward, I think. And not, by any means, the only person in Callander Square who might warrant a blackmailer’s attentions.”

Campbell’s face darkened and his big body tensed. It seemed for a moment as if a spasm of pain shot through him.

“I would be very particular what you say, Pitt. You could lay up a great deal of wrath for yourself if you make careless accusations about the people in this square. We all have our foibles, some of them no doubt unpleasant, by your standards, but we do not like them talked about. All men do what they like, as far as they dare. We have the good fortune to dare more than most; we have earned or inherited that position. Find out who killed the babies, by all means, if you must. And look into who stabbed Freddie Bolsover: but have a care for Sophie, and don’t go stirring up a lot of scandal just to see what floats to the surface. You won’t enhance your career, I promise you. You’re a damn sight more likely to finish up back on some beat down by the dockside.”

Pitt looked at his face for a moment or two. He did not doubt even for an instant that he meant precisely what he said, and that it was more than a warning.

“Freddie Bolsover was a blackmailer, sir,” he answered levelly, “and blackmail feeds on scandal. I can hardly hope to discover who killed him without discovering why.”