Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [46]
“What?” Dunkeld’s voice rose angrily. “You called me away from my meeting to ask me that? Have you discussed anything at all as to who killed the wretched woman?” He leaned forward. “Have you completely lost your grasp, man? Have you any idea what has happened? Someone has murdered a prostitute in the Queen’s residence! What does it require to spark you into some action? One of these men, God help us, is a maniac.”
Pitt leaned back slowly and looked up at him. “I assume you mean one of the other three: Marquand, Sorokine, or Quase?”
Dunkeld looked a little paler. “Yes, regrettably, of course I do. Do you know of any alternative?”
“What was in the box?” Pitt asked again. “You were apparently expecting it? Why did it come at that hour of night? Carters don’t usually deliver at midnight.”
Dunkeld sat down at last, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Books,” he said gratingly. “Mostly maps of the regions of Africa with which we are concerned. Yes, I was expecting them. They are extremely important to the work we plan to do.”
“Then why did you not bring them with you?” Pitt asked.
“I sent for them from a dealer!” Dunkeld snapped back. “If I had had them in my possession when I came, then of course I would have brought them with me! Are you a complete fool?”
“And whoever sent them to you delivered them at midnight?”
“Obviously! I don’t know why it took him so long. What the devil has that got to do with the woman’s death?”
“I don’t know what anything has to do with it yet. Do you?”
Dunkeld controlled his temper with clear difficulty. “No, of course I don’t, or I would tell you. You obviously need every scrap of help you can find.”
“As I remember it, Mr. Dunkeld, it was you who called us,” Pitt replied.
Dunkeld’s face darkened dangerously. “Why you arrogant, jumped-up oaf! You are a servant. You are here to clean up other people’s detritus and keep the streets safe for your betters. You are the ferret that decent men send into holes in the ground to hunt out rabbits.”
“Then if you want your rabbit hunted and you are incapable of getting it out yourself,” Pitt said icily, “you had better employ the best ferret you can find, and give it its head. Otherwise the rabbit will escape and you will be left standing over an empty hole.”
Dunkeld stood up slowly. “I shall not forget you, Pitt.” It was blatantly a threat.
Pitt rose to his feet also. They were of equal height, and standing too close to each other for civility or comfort. But neither would move. “I shall probably forget you, sir,” he replied. “I meet many like you, in my field of work.” He smiled very slightly. “Thank you for answering my questions. I don’t think I need to ask you about the…party…you organized for the Prince of Wales. I have several rather good accounts of it already.”
Dunkeld spun round on his heel and slammed the door on his way out.
IT WAS AFTER six o’clock and Pitt was sitting in the same room again, mulling over the impressions he had gained from the four men. He was wondering if he should ring the bell and ask whoever answered it if he could have a cup of tea, when there was a tap on the door.
“Come in,” he said with surprise. Gracie was not supposed to contact him so openly, and he could think of no one else who would approach him.
But when the door opened it was not Gracie who stood there, but an elegant woman in her middle years. She was beautifully dressed in the height of fashion in very dark silk, tiered from the waist down and with a slight train. There was expensive lace at her bosom and a cameo at her throat, which Pitt estimated would have cost as much as a good carriage.
He rose to his feet, certain she must have mistaken the room.
“Good afternoon,” she said courteously. “Are you Inspector Pitt?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It seemed ridiculous to offer to help her. She was obviously very much more composed than he.
She smiled slightly. “I am lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales.