Callander Square - Anne Perry [104]
When Pitt arrived home late that evening he was only mildly surprised to see Jemima sitting with Charlotte by the fire. She was both embarrassed and nervous to begin with, but he went to some effort to put her at ease, even though he was appallingly tired, and by the time she retired, she looked as if she might sleep.
After she had gone, he told Charlotte that Reggie had accused her of the murder of Freddie also, and was relieved that Charlotte did not blaze up in temper, nor dissolve in tears, although he had never considered the latter likely.
In the morning he set out again to Callander Square, walking some part of the distance, the better to enable himself to think.
He did not doubt for a moment that Freddie Bolsover had been murdered because he was a blackmailer. He was inclined to think that it was not Reggie Southeron, if only because he lacked the nerve, and had seemed to be totally shocked by the news of the discovery of the body. Surely if he had known anything about it, he would have been prepared with a more plausible story.
But if it was not Reggie, then who were the other suspects? Surely in Callander Square there were enough secrets worth paying to keep!
He would begin with Balantyne.
He found him at home and quite willing to see him. He was shown into the morning room and a moment later the general came in, still looking grave from the news of Freddie’s murder the day before.
“Good morning, Inspector. Have you discovered something further about poor Freddie?”
“Yes, quite a lot, sir. None of it very pleasant, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Wretched business, poor fellow. You said yesterday he was stabbed. Was there something else?”
“Perhaps I didn’t explain myself very well. I meant that what I had discovered was about Dr. Bolsover himself, not the murder; although I believe it was the cause.”
“Oh?” Balantyne frowned slightly. “What do you mean? Not something to do with the babies in the square, surely? Always thought Freddie was a pretty sober sort of chap, not given to playing the fool with other women.”
“Not directly to do with the babies, but perhaps indirectly. He was a blackmailer.”
Balantyne stared at him.
“Blackmailer?” he repeated foolishly. “Whatever makes you think anything—so—vile?”
“One of his victims.”
“Must be lying! Fellow who would do something fit to be blackmailed for could well be a liar as well. In fact must be! Or others would know about his crimes.”
“Doesn’t have to be a crime, sir,” Pitt said gently. “Could be something he merely preferred kept private, an indiscretion or misfortune. Perhaps like his daughter having an affair with a footman, and being with child before she was married, or—” he stopped. It was unnecessary to go on, Balantyne’s face was scarlet. Pitt waited.
“I’d see the fellow in hell before I’d pay him,” Balantyne said very quietly. “Believe me!”
“Would you?” Pitt asked, his voice mild, not a challenge, but a soft probing. “Your only daughter, just before her marriage to a most suitable man? Are you sure? Would you not perhaps consider it worth a small expense to protect her?”
Balantyne stared at him, his eyes wavering.
Pitt said nothing.
“I don’t know,” Balantyne said at last. “Possibly you’re right. But it didn’t happen. Freddie never came anywhere near me.” He looked down at the carpet. “Poor Sophie. I suppose she had no idea. Often wondered how Freddie managed to live so high on the hog. I had some knowledge of the size of his practice. Never occurred to me in the wildest moment—what a wretched business. Do you suppose he knew whose the babies were?”
“Perhaps,” Pitt replied. “But I rather doubt it. If he were pressing on that one, I think he might well have been killed a good deal earlier than this. Of course he may have known something without realizing