Doctor Who_ The Banquo Legacy - Andy Lane [53]
‘Yes,’ I said quietly, ‘we all do… We all do.’ She looked up, apparently recovered, but her face reddened slightly. I spoke first to save her the further embarrassment of apologising. ‘I think I’ll go and hear whatever revelation Stratford is about to unleash.’ I felt awkward standing so near to her. So close.
She smiled slightly, but her eyes were still moist. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
‘Are you sure? It won’t be pleasant, you know. I mean he’s gone to look at the body.’
‘I know, but I’ve seen it once.’ She shivered despite her determination. ‘I shall never forget that.’ She swallowed and looked away, back towards the window. ‘And I’d rather not be left here alone,’ she added quietly.
‘As you wish.’ Perhaps I sounded too indifferent, so as we crossed the hall I endeavoured to change the subject slightly: ‘Yes,’ I said, agreeing again with her earlier sentiments, ‘I think we’d all like to change places with the Doctor at the moment…’ It seemed a worthy thought to both of us. At the time.
* * *
THE REPORT OF INSPECTOR IAN STRATFORD (7)
Despite my full night’s sleep I felt tired and restless by the early afternoon. Partly it was due to an unproductive morning spent in Richard Harries’s laboratory sifting through his papers. Mostly it was due to Susan Seymour. I had repeatedly tried to catch her eye during lunch but she had either failed to notice me or (my insecurities whispered) she was deliberately avoiding me. Either way, she was devoting too much time to looking at John Hopkinson, then dropping her gaze when he looked at her. Even after lunch I discovered them together with Herr Kreiner in the drawing room. Miss Seymour had the grace to blush. Hopkinson insolently returned my stare.
Where had I seen him before?
To my relief, Sir George Wallace and the sergeant entered the drawing room soon after me. I had been thinking about Harries and had already decided to make a more complete examination of his body than my previous one. I wasted no time in asking Sir George to accompany me upstairs. Fitz (Fitz what? I wondered) Kreiner elected to join us on the thin pretence that he could contribute on the basis of his professional knowledge. Baker and I exchanged amused glances at his presumption – it was obvious to both of us that the man was completely out of his depth – but I agreed on the basis that I would rather have him with me, where he might make some slip and give away his true identity, than out of my sight.
We left Hopkinson and Susan Seymour together – Baker, with misplaced tact, electing to join us. The true identities of Dr Friedlander and Fitz Kreiner worried me as we mounted the stairs. Kreiner I had tentatively pegged as a confidence trickster, an intruder pretending false knowledge as a means to somehow obtaining money. Too stupid to plan or execute such a scheme by himself, he obviously depended on some confederate for leadership, and Dr Friedlander was the obvious choice, but there was something about the Doctor that bothered me. He did not have the reactions of a confidence trickster: rather, he reacted like the only honest man in a world of confidence tricksters. He would bear further watching.
Sir George seemed tired and restless, running a finger around his collar as we mounted the stairs. He didn’t seem to have slept too well and I noticed a faint red mark on his neck. Shaving cut? It did not look like one and unbidden images rose in my mind… But no, the very idea was grotesque. Elizabeth Wallace was, after all, a lady. Then, as a sudden revelation, I realised that Beryl Green the maid was not, and I wondered if she treated everyone with the same friendliness she had shown me that morning. And I wondered what George Wallace’s reaction would be to a young, attractive, available maid. And then, like a game of patience where one difficult card leads to a run of moves so obvious they don’t even require conscious thought, a lot of unconnected facts fell into place: Richard Harries and the evident dislike of everyone for him; the behaviour of Dr Friedlander; the suicide of