Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [129]
It must be Archie’s ship being used for the sea trials. Archie had said Corcoran had talked to him about sea trials on the night Blaine was killed. They had been at the Cutlers’ Arms, over at Madingley.
No, Corcoran had said that was where they were. Archie had said . . . He stopped. It was absolutely clear in his mind, as if it had been only minutes ago, Archie had said they had met at eight, when Blaine had still been alive, and at the Drouthy Duck, here in St. Giles.
Could Archie have been mistaken? Surely he must have been. It did not matter to him where or when it had been. No one could have suspected him of being involved with Theo Blaine either personally or professionally. To Corcoran it was far more important, because he had said it was where he had been at the time his best scientist was murdered. Presumably that was what he had told Perth also, if he had asked. He would have, wouldn’t he, as a matter of course, if nothing else, to find out if Corcoran could have seen anything, or heard anything? Not that he would normally be anywhere near Blaine’s house. Corcoran lived in Madingley. Except that he was out that evening, which was unusual. He worked far too hard to take time off, except for the most important occasions—such as discussing sea trials.
He must simply have made a mistake, in tiredness and anxiety, even grief for the loss of his best scientist, and a friend, and been uncharacteristically careless. And of course it was impossible now to check with Archie so he could correct it.
Why did that make him feel uncomfortable? Why was he even considering the possibility that Shanley Corcoran could be lying about where he had been? What was it he thought? That somehow Corcoran knew the truth, and was lying about it? He already knew that he was protecting whoever had murdered Blaine because he needed him to complete the project. There was little doubt in his mind that it was Ben Morven. Lucas could not have killed Blaine, and he did not believe it was Iliffe, although it was not impossible.
Was it conceivable that Corcoran had guessed beforehand, and gone to Blaine’s home to prevent his murder, and been too late? What tragic irony.
But why had he then lied about it? To prevent any possibility of having to betray Morven, before the work was completed.
Had he gone openly, or in secret? Joseph was cold in the sun and the larks sounded tinny and far away. Did Morven know? Had he seen Corcoran there? No, surely not, or he would have killed him before now. He could hardly afford not to.
No, worse than that, he was waiting for Corcoran to complete the prototype, just as Corcoran had been waiting for him.
But if Joseph was right, then it was completed and already at sea! Was Morven waiting for news that it worked? Hardly—it would be a wildly unnecessary risk. Far more likely he was simply seeking the right moment to kill Corcoran so that he was safe himself, and the only man left who could re-create the machine.
Joseph started to walk quickly, calling Henry to follow him. He took long strides, ignoring the trampled grass. He reached the gate to the orchard and flung it open, slamming it behind him as soon as Henry was through, and sprinted under the trees to the hedge and the end of the garden. He was out of breath by the time he got to the back door and into the kitchen, oblivious of trailing mud over Mrs. Appleton’s clean floor.
He went straight to the telephone in the hall and asked the operator to connect him to Lizzie Blaine. Please heaven she was at home. She was the only person he could think of who would take him to the Establishment. He waited impatiently while it rang. Why should she be at home? There were a dozen other places she could be.
He heard her voice with intense relief.
“Mrs. Blaine? This is Joseph Reavley. Can you take me to the Establishment please, right away? It’s extremely urgent.”
“Yes, of course,” she said immediately. “Is everything all right? Has something happened?”
“Not so far,