Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [39]
It was nearly noon when Urban knocked on his door.
“Come in,” he said quickly, looking up from his desk. He half hoped it would be Pitt to say he had learned something in the Weems case, but perhaps that was too optimistic.
When Urban came in it was a different anxiety that touched him, but he could not blame the man. It was in a way unfortunate the two constables had been at that precise spot at that time. But given that they were, he would not have had them ignore the matter simply because the man was a public figure.
“Well?” he asked.
Urban stood to attention, not obviously, but there was both formality and respect in his attitude.
“Mr. Osmar was charged, sir, and pleaded not guilty, with some heat and indignation.”
Drummond smiled ruefully. “I should have been amazed had he not.”
“I thought a night in the cells might have cooled his temper a trifle,” Urban said regretfully. “And perhaps made him consider a plea of guilty would cause less publicity than fighting it.” He was standing in a broad splash of sunlight on the bright carpet and the radiance of it picked out the freckles on his skin and cast the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheek. “Miss Giles said very little. Seems to take her cue from him, which I suppose is natural.”
“Any newspapermen here?” Drummond asked.
“Not that I know, but I expect they’ll get hold of it pretty quickly.”
“Not if Osmar’s lucky. They may have looked through the docket of crimes and found nothing worth their time. After all a trivial indecency is hardly worthy of comment in ordinary circumstances.”
Urban pulled his mobile face into an expression of rueful contempt. “No sir, but Osmar hasn’t that much sense, it seems. He insisted on putting a personal call through to the home secretary.”
“What?” Drummond nearly dropped his pen in disbelief. He stared at Urban. “What do you mean, a call? He found a messenger?”
“No sir.” Urban’s eyes were bright with humor. “He used one of those new telephone instruments. That caused a stir in itself.”
“And he got through?” Drummond was not only amazed but beginning to feel some alarm. The story was getting uglier by the minute.
Urban ironed all the amusement out of his face. “Yes sir, apparently he did. Although I’m not sure what difference it made to anything, except that it delayed proceedings for quite a while, and thus also his getting bail. Which considering the nature of the charge was bound to be granted.”
“And the girl, Miss—?”
“Miss Giles. She got bail also, both on their own recognizance.” He shrugged. “All of which we could have taken for granted, except his choosing to contact the home secretary. Maybe if we’d charged him with theft he’d have called the prime minister—and if it had been assault he’d have called the Queen.”
“Don’t,” Drummond said grimly. “The man’s a menace. What on earth’s going to happen when he comes to trial?”
“Heaven knows,” Urban confessed. “Perhaps he’ll have taken decent advice by then and have decided to keep quiet. Oh—we returned his case to him.”
“His case?” Drummond had no idea what Urban was talking about.
Urban relaxed a little, putting one hand in his pocket.
“Yes sir. A man came to the station about half an hour after Crombie and Allardyce arrested Mr. Osmar, and said he had been in the park at the time, and Osmar had left a small attaché case on the seat where he and Miss Giles had been … sitting. He picked it up and brought it along. Apparently he had some appointment which he had to keep, someone he was waiting for, and he half expected the constables to come back for it anyway. But when no one did, and he had met his friend, he brought it to the station. At least Osmar cannot accuse us of having caused him to lose it.”
“He got it back again?”
“Yes sir. He had it in his hand when he left the police court.”
“Well that’s something, I suppose.” Drummond sighed. “What a mess. Why couldn’t the old fool behave himself on a public bench?”
Urban smiled, a bright, easy gesture full of humor.
“Heat of the moment? Spring in the air?”
“It