A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [3]
“But you could have been set upon. I don’t know what—” Billy stopped himself.
“You don’t know what James Compton would say? Well, he’s away in Canada for at least another month, so let’s not worry about what he would say.” Maisie paused and seemed to look into the distance as she spoke. “The truth is, I didn’t feel threatened. I suspected they were gathering information, and I wanted to wait until they showed their hand, then base my next move on whatever that hand held.”
“Lucky it wasn’t a knife.”
“Billy.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I just worry, that’s all.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern; however, I took matters into my own hands today and have discovered that—as far as I know—Special Branch is behind the subterfuge. I’m seeing MacFarlane at three.” Maisie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “In fact, I should leave at about two o’clock. That’ll give us just enough time to go through our cases and discuss the week ahead. There’s a lot to be done before you go on holiday.”
Billy waited for a second or two before leaning forward. “Any luck with Mr. Dobbs?”
Maisie shook her head. “He’s as stubborn as a mule and will not be moved, so I suppose I will have to wait.”
“He likes his independence, that’s what it is. And it’s hard to take from your daughter, Miss, even though The Dower House is yours now. After all, it’s a father’s job to provide for his children.”
“But I’m hardly a child, Billy. I’m thir—”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re still his daughter. I’m sorry if I’ve spoken out of turn there, but I’m a father and I know. You’ll have a job to get him to move up to The Dower House, no two ways about it.”
“I know,” replied Maisie, with a sigh. “Anyway, let’s get on.”
Billy opened the notebook he had brought with him to Maisie’s desk. “You had a visitor this morning. On the doorstep when I got here, she was.”
“Who?”
“That Sandra. The tall girl who used to work at Ebury Place—the one who stayed with you for a while, just before she got married.”
“Sandra? Sandra came here?”
“Yes, and very unhappy she looked, I can tell you. I would say she was mourning, what with the black costume she was wearing, and her cheeks all sunken.” Billy looked away. “Put me in mind of Doreen, after we lost our Lizzie.”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“No, just to let you know she called, and that she’d come back again—sounded like she meant today.”
Maisie capped and uncapped her fountain pen several times as she wondered what might be the reason for Sandra’s visit. She looked up. “Billy, have a look in the card file. Her address is in there under her married name—Tapley. She and Eric live in a bed-sitting-room over the garage where he works. I won’t have time to go over today, but I’d like to have it on my desk, just in case.”
“Right you are, Miss.” He made a note and looked down at the clutch of papers in his hand. “Now, there’s the Rackman case. The old lady was on the dog and bone again, just before you walked in the door . . . ”
They continued to talk about various cases in progress, passing files back and forth, and going through client notes one by one until two o’clock, when it was time for Maisie to leave for Scotland Yard. She collected her linen jacket and shoulder bag, but stopped before she reached the door.
“Billy, if Sandra returns while I’m out, tell her she should come to the flat. I have a feeling I’ll be at the Yard for a while, so I probably won’t be home until about six-ish. Tell her to come then.” She looked from Billy’s desk to her own. “I sometimes think we need a Sandra to sort us out—she’s taken commercial courses, so she’s up on secretarial work. I don’t know about you, but I think we could do with a bit of help.”
As Maisie approached the main entrance to Scotland Yard’s ornate redbrick headquarters on Victoria Embankment, a young man wearing overpressed black trousers and a gray jacket with worn elbows came forward to greet her.
“Miss Dobbs?” He held out his hand. “DC Summers. Delighted to meet