Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [7]
Narraway smiled very slightly. “Your Royal Highness, which is of the greater importance, speed or discretion?”
The Prince looked startled. The fear flooded back into his face, making his skin pasty and his jaw slack. “I…I cannot say,” he stammered. “Both are imperative. If we take too long, discretion will be lost anyway.” Yet again he looked to Dunkeld.
“For God’s sake, Narraway, are you not capable of both?” Dunkeld said angrily. “Get on with it! Ask the servants. Ask the guests, if you have to. Just don’t stand here making idiotic and pointless remarks.”
Narraway’s cheeks flushed a dull red with anger, but before he could retaliate, Pitt took the opportunity to ask his question. He looked at the Prince of Wales. “Sir,” he said firmly. “How many women—professional—guests were there?”
“Three,” the Prince said instantly, coloring.
“Were any of them already known to you from any previous…party?”
“Er…not so far as I am aware.” He was discomfited rather than embarrassed, as if the questions puzzled him.
“Who arranged for them to come, and how long ago?” Pitt continued.
The Prince’s eyes opened wide. “I…er…”
“I did,” Dunkeld answered for him. He glared at Pitt. “What has this to do with anything? Some madman lost control of himself and took a knife to the poor woman. Who she is or where she came from is irrelevant. Find out where everyone was, that’s the obvious thing to do, then you’ll know who’s responsible. It hardly matters why!” He swiveled round to Narraway. “Don’t waste any more time.”
Narraway did not argue. He and Pitt left, Dunkeld remained.
“Mr. Dunkeld is certainly making himself indispensable,” Narraway said drily when they were twenty feet along the corridor and out of earshot. “We’d better begin with the servants, for which we shall need Mr. Tyndale’s assistance. What did you learn from the linen cupboard?” They reached the stair head and started down.
“Where were her clothes?” Pitt asked. “She can’t have gone in there naked. Why did he take them away? Wouldn’t it have been far easier to leave them? What was it about them that he wanted, or that he dare not let anyone else see?”
Narraway stopped. “Such as what?”
“I have no idea. That’s what I would like to find out. How was she dressed? Who did she oblige? The Prince, presumably. Who else?”
Narraway smiled, and then the amusement vanished like a light going out. “Pitt, I think you had better leave that part of your investigation until such time as it should become unavoidable.”
“Suddenly it’s my investigation?” Pitt raised his eyebrows. He started down again.
“I’ll make the political decisions, you gather the evidence and interpret it.” Narraway followed hard on his heels. “First we must find Tyndale, acquire a list of all the staff who were here last night and whichever guards were on duty for any entrance to this part of the building. And search for the dead woman’s clothes,” he added. “Or some signs as to how they were disposed of.”
Tyndale was very obliging, although his manner made it apparent that he deplored the suggestion that a member of his staff could be responsible for such a barbaric act. He could not fight against the conclusion because he could not afford to, but neither did he accede to it.
“Yes, sir. Of course I will make available every member of staff so you may interview them. But I insist upon being present myself.” He met Pitt’s eyes with acute misery.
Pitt admired him. He was a man caught in an impossible situation and trying to be loyal to all his obligations. Sooner or later he would have to choose, and Pitt knew it, even if he did not.
“I’m sorry…” Narraway began.
“Of course,” Pitt agreed at the same moment.
Narraway turned his head sharply.
Tyndale waited, embarrassed.
“I shall welcome your assistance,” Pitt said, looking at neither of them. “But it is imperative that you do not