A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [106]
“Have you told Caldwell?”
“I’ve told him everything I know, and in return, he’s got people out looking for our Sandra.”
“Do you know how he’s doing it?”
“Well, he’s got informers, friends, if you like, among the ladies of the night, and—”
“Oh, I don’t think Sandra would—”
“You don’t know what someone might do who was desperate, Miss. Especially a young woman who can’t feel anything anymore. But that’s not it. It’s a case of scratching each other’s backs—they look out for someone wanted by the police, or they hear of something, and then they get left alone for a while, no moving on or that sort of thing. And I’ve been asking around the hostels, but nothing yet.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Caldwell listened to everything I had to say, Miss. He said that there’s no smoke without a fire, and that he’ll look into matters at Reg Martin’s garage and have a word with Reg himself. To be honest, Miss, I saw Reg and he don’t half look pale, not the man he was. He told me that, if he could, he would pack it in and go back to working on coaches and carts, but there was no business in it now, what with the number of motors on the road and everyone saying there won’t be any horses left in London in ten years’ time.”
“I wish she’d just get in touch with us. I wish she would come out of hiding.”
“On another matter, Miss.”
“What’s that, Billy?”
“That secretary woman at the Compton Corporation telephoned—Miss Robinson; she said to tell you that you should come over to pick up some mail that’s been sent from Canada for you. She said you’re expected.”
“That’s a funny way of putting it.” Maisie sighed. “Oh well, I’ll drop by on Friday. I can’t leave Cambridge until the debate is over.”
“The what?”
“Debate. It’s part of a series of debates with the Cambridge colleges that the College of St. Francis has been asked to join. Our team will be on the spot tomorrow. Then I’ll come down on Friday.”
“Right you are, Miss. I’ll keep in touch. Don’t mind me telling you, I wouldn’t be surprised if our family weren’t bigger by one sooner rather than later.”
“Oh, I hoped the baby would wait until you were in the new house.”
“I doubt if it will wait when it comes—after all, it’s our fourth.”
Maisie heard the words catch as Billy spoke. Their third child had been Lizzie, now buried in the local churchyard.
“Take care of Doreen, Billy. I’ll be in touch.”
As Maisie left the telephone kiosk, a black motor car drew up alongside her, the door swung open, and Stratton stepped out.
“You were looking for us?”
“Oh, yes. I’m glad you stopped.”
Maisie seated herself in the back, next to MacFarlane. Stratton pulled down a seat opposite them and tapped on the window for the driver to continue on.
“The sun’s over the yardarm somewhere in the Empire, so we thought we’d drop in for a swift one at the local—join us?”
Maisie smiled at MacFarlane. “Thank you for asking, but I really must be getting back to my lodgings.”
“Making progress?”
“Putting the pieces into place. You?”
“No, not really. Can’t seem to get any purchase on the mountain of interviews and who saw this and who saw that. You would have thought the whole college was comatose while Greville Liddicote was murdered.”
“Colleges can be fairly soporific places in the afternoons—and I am being absolutely serious. Whoever walked in with the intention of taking Liddicote’s life chose the right time. Classes were in progress, the secretary was out and about in the building somewhere, and a sort of daze comes over the place, no matter how hard one tries to chivvy students along in their work.”
“That much is obvious,” Stratton interjected, looking at Maisie. “Have you discovered anything that might help