London Calling - James Craig [116]
‘Luke was always his own worst enemy,’ she remarked airily.
‘Past tense?’ her husband asked.
‘Past tense,’ she agreed. ‘When he goes, no one will be surprised. He’s always been seen as too close to the current government. With them on the way out, he’s been a dead man walking for a while now.’
‘How loyal,’ he teased.
‘I am loyal,’ she smiled. ‘To his memory.’
‘Very funny.’ He gave one of those fake for-the-client laughs that she hated so much.
‘Seriously,’ she pouted, ‘in many ways, Luke was a great policeman. London is now a very safe city, and he should get some of the credit for that. But you know what they say …’
He played along. ‘What do they say?’
She grinned. ‘They say that all political careers end in failure.’
Joshua sipped his wine. ‘When he goes … it will shake things up?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s got to be good for you?’
‘You’d hope so, but we’ll have to wait and see.’ She didn’t want to get carried away, but Simpson knew that she was still on the way up and the possibilities were exciting. And it would be a lie to suggest that she hadn’t given the matter some considerable thought over recent months. At the very least, she should be able to skip chief superintendent and go straight to commander. From there, an assault on assistant or even deputy commissioner beckoned. She could see it all falling into place, especially if they sorted out this other business quickly and discreetly.
‘By the way, how is the Carlton thing going?’ It was as if he was reading her mind.
Simpson took a dainty sip of her peppermint tea and replaced the cup carefully on the saucer. ‘It looks like we are finally making progress. My inspector has tracked down a woman called Susy Ahl, who is the nearest thing we’ve got to a suspect.’
‘Interesting.’
Kanzaki silently appeared at his shoulder and placed the bill on the table. Joshua Hunt gave it a cursory glance and fished out his American Express Centurion Black card.
‘Apparently, Ahl was the girlfriend of a boy called Robert Ashton. Ashton killed himself at Cambridge in 1985,’ Simpson said quietly, once Kanzaki had retreated a respectful distance. ‘It was Ashton’s photo that was left at the Hogarth crime scene.’
‘So it’s a revenge thing? You think she did it?’ her husband asked, as the restaurant owner returned with the hand-held card reader.
Simpson waited while her husband typed in his PIN and collected the receipt. When they were alone again, she replied. ‘She’s the only lead that Carlyle seems to have at the moment.’
‘If it really was her,’ Joshua asked, ‘why would she leave such an obvious clue?’
‘Who knows?’ Simpson sighed. ‘People like that are, by definition, not very good at thinking straight.’
‘Or maybe she wants the publicity,’ Joshua mused.
‘Perhaps,’ Simpson agreed. That was what really worried her.
‘A killer who wants to get caught …’
Simpson shot her husband a look that said: Don’t make me join the dots for you …
‘Shouldn’t you arrest her?’ Joshua asked.
‘That’s a very good question, but for the moment it’s Carlyle’s decision. He wants to size her up first. As he sees it, she’s not an immediate threat. There’s no chance she can get anywhere near the remaining members of the Merrion Club.’
‘Isn’t that taking a bit of a chance?’
‘It’s Carlyle’s call.’
‘I see.’ Joshua Hunt slowly swallowed the final drip of wine. It tasted truly wonderful, but the knowledge that he himself could still drop two grand on a bottle of plonk in times like these tasted even better. After a while, he said: ‘You know that I’m seeing Edgar tomorrow morning.’
Simpson sipped more tea. She had completely forgotten about her husband’s big breakfast meeting. Another ten thousand pounds for providing a cup of terrible coffee and a muffin, she supposed. She didn’t understand why her husband was so keen to cozy up to Edgar Carlton, but it was Joshua