Nicola Upson - Two for Sorrow

‘Will there be someone in the room with the girl?’ Merrifield asked.

‘Absolutely. There must be no risk whatsoever to Peters’s condition—it’s fragile enough as it is. I wish we could put someone in her place, but Bannerman’s not stupid. Whichever one of you is in that room, wait as long as you can to make sure that our murderer incriminates herself, but do not—I repeat, do not—put the girl in danger. And if it’s a choice between the two, for God’s sake do the right thing. I’m going to have enough trouble persuading Miriam Sharpe to let us do this at all, so don’t let me down.’

‘Can she be trusted, Sir? Miss Sharpe, I mean.’

It was Fallowfield’s question, and something that Penrose had already thought long and hard about. ‘I’m as sure as I can be, Bill,’ he said, ‘and we have no choice. I don’t doubt that she’s capable of keeping this to herself and she’s no great fan of Celia Bannerman; my only concern is that she’ll object to the ethics of the thing. I know what she means, but if I can convince her that Lucy’s in no additional danger, I think she’ll go along with it. Any other questions?’

‘How will Bannerman do it, Sir?’

‘Suffocation, probably, or perhaps an injection. It depends how prepared she is for the right opportunity.’

Another hand was raised hesitantly, and Ellis glanced nervously at his colleagues before speaking. ‘What happens if you’re wrong, Sir?’

Penrose smiled. ‘Good question. If that turns out to be the case, then I’ll be introducing you to Detective Inspector Fallowfield on my way out of the building.’ The joke eased the tension in the room, and only Penrose realised that there was a serious side to it. ‘I’ll leave you with him now to go over the details for later, and don’t be afraid to ask any questions you like. We need to be as prepared as possible. So best bib and tucker, everyone, and good luck.’

On his way over to the Cowdray Club, Penrose thought about how best to approach the subject with Miriam Sharpe and decided that honesty was the only way to convince her. Even so, as he sat across the desk from her in her office, he realised that he had a long struggle ahead of him. ‘Of course she’s in danger, Inspector. The girl has third-degree burns on a large percentage of her body, and all the other complications which that involves. I hardly think you needed to come all the way from the Embankment to tell me that.’

‘That’s not quite what I meant, Miss Sharpe,’ Penrose explained patiently. ‘I must ask you to keep this strictly confidential, but I don’t think Lucy Peters’s fall was an accident and I think there may well be another attempt on her life during the gala tonight.’

‘Not an accident? That’s impossible, surely. Celia was on the scene immediately, and there simply wouldn’t have been time for someone to push the girl and get away without her seeing them.’ As Penrose remained silent, he could see Miriam Sharpe reading between the lines of what he had said. ‘Oh, that’s ridiculous, Inspector,’ she said, horrified. ‘There’s no love lost between Celia and me, as you know, but she’s built a career—a life, if you like—on improving things for women. Cold-bloodedly pushing a child down the stairs simply isn’t something she’d be capable of.’

‘I gather she’s shown an avid interest in Lucy’s condition since the accident.’

‘Well yes, she has, but that’s only natural. She’s as worried about the organisation’s reputation as I am, and her own position may well be in question if Lucy dies—the girl should never have been doing what she was doing in the first place.’

‘I think she has rather more at stake than her position, Miss Sharpe.’

‘But why on earth would she want to harm a servant?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that at the moment,’ he said, and marvelled at how this simple expression of honesty invariably conveyed a greater significance to the listener. Miriam Sharpe was no exception.

‘Very well, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I suppose I have no choice but to trust you, but please explain to me what you intend to do. I’ll agree to nothing which goes against the interests of my patient.’

‘Of course,’ Penrose said, and outlined his plan with as much reassurance as he could. ‘When the policeman leaves the door outside Miss Peters’s room, I want the nurse on duty to leave, too, and wait in one of the other rooms down the corridor.’

‘You think the girl is in danger so you leave her entirely unprotected?’

‘Not unprotected at all. As soon as the nurse leaves, one of my officers will wait behind the screen in …’

‘Yes, yes, Inspector—we’ve all read The Murder at the Vicarage . But how do I know that I can rely on your officer to put my patient’s safety first? How does the life of a servant girl—particularly a life that is already hanging in the balance—rate against your conviction?’

‘You have my word. There will no additional risk to her life. I don’t make sacrifices, Miss Sharpe, particularly the human sort, and I don’t take it upon myself to decide the value of a life any more than you do in your work.’

His self-righteousness won him the day. She nodded reluctantly, but said: ‘I must stress, Inspector, that if anything goes wrong I will personally do everything I can to ensure you never have the opportunity of making another mistake.’

If anything went wrong, Penrose thought, she would have to get in the queue, but he thanked her and stood up to leave. ‘And I can rely on you not to share this information with anyone?’

‘Yes. I’ll take care of Lucy myself tonight. I have no desire to be at the circus, but my nurses will be only too glad to go. In any case,’ she added as he got to the door, ‘this is hardly something that I’d wish to broadcast, is it?’

Lettice and Ronnie were taking a break in the bar when he got downstairs, and he was pleased to find them on their own. ‘Coffee?’ Lettice asked, pushing the pot towards him across the table.

He shook his head. ‘Sorry—I haven’t got time. I was hoping to have a word with Wyles if you can get her for me?’

‘I’m not sure we can spare her,’ Ronnie said, and grinned. ‘Seriously, Archie—she’s been an absolute gem, and she’s really taken Hilda’s mind off what’s happened. If you ever decide against women in the force, you know where to send her.’

‘You’ll be lucky,’ he said. ‘I need all the help I can get, especially today. As do you, it seems—you both look exhausted.’

‘It’s the coffee that’s keeping us conscious,’ Lettice admitted. ‘We’ve been here all night. It’s the only way we stand any chance at all of being ready by this evening.’

‘Then you can’t tell me how Josephine is,’ Archie said. ‘I was hoping you might have seen her at breakfast.’

‘Josephine?’ Ronnie asked, confused.

‘Yes. I sent her back to Maiden Lane last night—there’s too much going on here at the moment, and I’d rather she was safely out of the way. And you should be careful, too, if you insist on wandering round the building in the dead of night.’

‘But I popped back to Maiden Lane at around two to fetch something to eat and Josephine …’

‘And Josephine was asleep by then,’ Lettice interrupted, glaring at her sister. ‘But she’s fine, Archie—we saw her this morning when she came to try her dress on. It was sweet of you to be worried, though. I’m sure she appreciated it.’ Ronnie looked at her, bewildered, but said nothing more. ‘We’ll go back to the girls now and find an excuse to send Lillian out to you. Will you be here?’

Archie looked round, and changed his mind about the coffee. ‘Yes, this is private enough and I won’t keep her long. And if you see Josephine again, tell her I’ll be here at six-thirty.’