Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [97]
The constable screwed up his face. ‘Yer bin in the cells before, in’t yer,’ he observed.
‘No,’ Pitt replied, ‘but I’ve been on your side of them often enough, as I told you. I’m a policeman myself. I have another number I would like you to call, seeing that Mr Narraway doesn’t seem to be there. Please. I need to let someone know where I am. My wife and family, at least.’
‘’Oo would that be, sir?’ The constable put down the tea and backed out of the cell again, closing and locking the door. ‘You give me the number and I’ll do it. Everyone deserves that much.’
‘Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould,’ Pitt replied. ‘I’ll write the number down for you, if you give me a pencil.’
‘You jus’ tell me, sir. I’ll write it down.’
Pitt obeyed; there was no point in arguing.
The man returned ten minutes later, his face wide-eyed and a trifle pale.
‘She says as she knows yer, sir. Described yer to a T, she did. Says as ye’re one o’ the best policemen in London, an’ Mr Narraway’s ’oo yer said ’e were, but summink’s ’appened to ’im. She’s sending a Member o’ Parliament down ter get yer out of’ere, an’ as we’d better treat yer proper, or she’ll be ’avin’ a word wi’ the Chief Constable. I dunno if she’s real, sir. I ’ope yer understand I gotter keep yer in ’ere till this gentleman comes, wi’ proof ’e’s wot ’e says ’e is, an’ all. ’E could be anyone, but I know I got two dead bodies on the tracks.’
‘Of course,’ Pitt said wearily. He would not tell him that Gower was Special Branch, and Pitt had not known that he was a traitor until the day before yesterday. ‘Of course I’ll wait here,’ he added. ‘I’d be obliged if you didn’t take me before the magistrate until the man arrives that Lady Vespasia sends.’
‘Yes, sir, I think as we can arrange that.’ He sighed. ‘I think as we’d better. Next time yer come from Southampton, sir, I’d be obliged if yer’d take some other line!’
Pitt managed a lopsided smile. ‘Actually, I’d prefer this one. Given the circumstances, you’ve been very fair.’
The constable was lost for words. He struggled, but clearly nothing he could think of seemed adequate.
It was nearly two hours later that Mr Somerset Carlisle, MP came sauntering into the police station, elegantly dressed, his curious face filled with a rueful amusement. Many years ago he had committed a series of outrages in London, to draw attention to an injustice against which he had no other weapon. Pitt had been the policeman who led the investigation. The murder had been solved, and he had seen no need to pursue the man who had so bizarrely brought it to public attention. Carlisle had remained grateful, and become an ally in several cases since then.
On this occasion, he had with him all his identification of the considerable office he held. Within ten minutes Pitt was a free man, brushing aside the apologies of the local police and assuring them that they had performed their duties excellently, and found no fault with them.
‘What the devil’s going on?’ Carlisle asked as they walked outside into the sun and headed in the direction of the railway station. ‘Vespasia called me in great agitation this morning, saying you had been charged with a double murder! You look like hell. Do you need a doctor?’ There was laughter in his voice, but his eyes reflected a very real anxiety.
‘A fight,’ Pitt explained briefly. He found walking with any grace very difficult. He had not realised at the time how bruised he was. ‘On the platform at the back of a railway carriage travelling at considerable speed.’ He told Carlisle very briefly what had happened.
Carlisle nodded. ‘It’s a very dark situation. I don’t know the whole story, but I’d be very careful what you do, Pitt. Vespasia told me to get you to her house, not Lisson Grove. In fact, she advised very strongly against going there at all.’
Pitt was cold. The sunlit street, the clatter of traffic all seemed unreal. ‘What’s happened to Narraway?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve heard whispers, but I don’t know the truth. If anyone does, it’ll be Vespasia. But I’ll take you to my flat first. Clean you up