Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [8]
“Go to the Clerkenwell police station,” Pitt replied without looking at Drummond.
Slowly Drummond stood up also. He and Byam faced each other in silence for a moment, both seemed on the verge of speech which did not come. Perhaps the understanding was sufficient without it. Then Byam simply said thank you and held out his hand. Drummond accepted it, and with Byam giving Pitt only the acknowledgment required by civility, they took their leave. They were shown out by the same footman, who was now considerably more courteous.
In another hansom clopping along out of the quiet avenues of Belgravia towards the teeming, noisy streets of Clerkenwell, Pitt asked the blunt questions he would have to have answered if there was to be any chance of success.
“Who do you know, sir, that you can have a murder case taken away from the local Clerkenwell station without questions asked?”
Drummond looked acutely uncomfortable.
“There are things I cannot answer you, Pitt.” He looked straight ahead at the blank inside wall of the cab. “You will have to accept my assurance that it can be done.”
“Is that the same acquaintance who will have informed Lord Byam of Weems’s death?” Pitt asked.
Drummond hesitated. “No, not the same person; but another with the same interests—which I assure you are beneficent.”
“Who do I report to?”
“Me—to me.”
“If this usurer was blackmailing Lord Byam, I assume there may be other men of importance he was also blackmailing.”
Drummond stiffened. Apparently the thought had not occurred to him.
“I suppose so,” he said quickly. “For God’s sake be discreet, Pitt!”
Pitt smiled with self-mockery. “It’s the most discreet job of all, isn’t it—tidying up after their lordships’ indiscretions?”
“That’s unfair, Pitt,” Drummond said quietly. “The man was a victim of circumstance. He complimented a beautiful woman, and she became infatuated with him. She must have been of a fragile and melancholy disposition to begin with, poor creature, and could not cope with a refusal. One can understand his wanting to keep the matter private, not only for himself but for Lord Anstiss’s sake as well. It can benefit no one to have the whole tragedy raked over again after twenty years.”
Pitt did not argue. He had considerable pity for Byam, but he was uneasy about the certainty with which Byam had called on Drummond and had manipulated the placing of a police inspector sympathetic to him to take charge of the case. It was a mere few hours since the body had been found and already Drummond had removed Pitt from his current case, called upon Byam at his home, and now they were going to Clerkenwell to override the local man and take over the case themselves.
They rode the rest of the way without resuming the conversation. Pitt could think of nothing else relevant to say. To have made polite conversation was beneath the respect they had for each other, and Drummond was apparently consumed with his own thoughts, which to judge from his face were far from comfortable.
At Clerkenwell they alighted and Drummond went in ahead of Pitt, introduced himself, and requested to see the senior officer in charge. He was conducted upstairs almost immediately, leaving Pitt to wait by the duty desk, and it was some ten or twelve minutes before he returned looking grim but less ill at ease. He met Pitt’s eyes squarely.
“It’s settled, Pitt. You are to take over the case. Sergeant Innes will work with you, show you what they have so far, and do any local investigations you may wish. Report your progress to me.”
Pitt understood him perfectly. He also knew him well enough not to doubt his integrity. If it proved that Byam had killed his blackmailer, Drummond would be distressed and deeply embarrassed, but he would not defend him or seek to conceal it.
“Yes sir,” Pitt agreed with a bare smile. “Does Sergeant Innes know I am coming?”
“He will in another five minutes,” Drummond answered with a flicker of humor in his eyes. “If you wait here he will join you. Fortunately he was here at the station—or perhaps it was