London Calling - James Craig [96]
‘Maybe the killer will send us a note explaining it all,’ Joe smiled.
‘His continued help would be very nice,’ Carlyle agreed. ‘After all, it’s just about the only way we’ve been able to make any progress in this fucking case, so far.’
Carlyle was brushing his teeth when he heard an electronic yelp from the bedroom. Still brushing, he wandered out of the bathroom and picked up the mobile from the small table on his side of the bed. Without checking who it was, he hit the receive button.
‘Yes?’
‘John? It’s Carole Simpson. Apologies for not returning your call earlier. I was caught up in a budget meeting that went on for more than six hours.’
‘No problem,’ said Carlyle, as he headed back into the bathroom and dropped the toothbrush in the handbasin.
‘So where are we now on the investigation?’ Simpson asked.
Carlyle spent the next couple of minutes filling her in on recent developments.
After he was done, she said: ‘Progress at last. Well done. It sounds like Joe Szyszkowski has done a good job here.’
Szyszkowski? Carlyle thought. That pseudo-Polish bastard? What about me? But he restricted himself to a clipped, ‘Thank you.’
‘And where do we go from here?’
Carlyle perched himself on the side of the bath. ‘As you can imagine, I really need to speak to the two Carltons and Christian Holyrod, now more than ever. I saw Edgar Carlton very briefly yesterday, but I still haven’t had a time arranged for a proper meeting. One of his advisers, a guy called Murray, is supposed to be getting back to me.’
‘I know William Murray,’ Simpson said, ‘or, rather, I’ve met him a couple of times. My husband says he’s one to watch – a potential rising star.’
‘Someone ready to cover up his boss’s dirty work?’ Carlyle suggested.
‘Someone who is very bright and has worked incredibly hard to get to the position where he is now,’ Simpson replied sharply. ‘Apparently he went to school at some troubled inner London comprehensive, but still got a first in Political History from Cambridge. He’s seen as a poster boy for the non-privileged wing of the party.’
‘Good for him,’ Carlyle sneered.
‘I will speak to Murray or someone in Edgar’s office, and get this moving,’ she said firmly, choosing to ignore the inspector’s petulance. ‘This has taken too long. I want to get it resolved as quickly as possible.’
‘Thanks.’ Carlyle was surprised by the note of determination in her voice. Maybe she was feeling some pressure as well.
‘In the meantime,’ she added, ‘we have to keep an open mind. The Merrion Club may end up having nothing at all to do with this case. Once you’ve spoken to them, let me know how it went.’
‘Of course.’
Carlyle ended the call and went back to brushing his teeth. He had barely finished that when his mobile went again.
‘Inspector Carlyle?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is William Murray.’
Jesus, that was quick, Carlyle thought. He assumed his most official tone. ‘Yes, Mr Murray, what can I do for you?’
‘Would eleven a.m. be possible for your meeting with Edgar Carlton?’
‘Eleven tomorrow, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘That would be fine.’ Only two days before the election, Carlyle reflected. That is a turn-up.
‘Good,’ Murray purred. ‘The meeting will take place at the offices of Badajoz Consulting, 132 Half Moon Street, just off Piccadilly.’
‘Who are Badajoz Consulting?’
‘They are … advisers to the Carltons.’
Carlyle snorted. ‘I thought that was your job.’
There was a pause, then, ‘Inspector, if you are preparing to run the country, you really do need the broadest range of top advisers.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Carlyle agreed.
‘132 Half Moon Street.’
‘Hold on a second.’ Carlyle went back into the bedroom, found a pen in his jacket pocket. ‘Half …’
‘… Moon Street.’
‘Got it.’ He jotted the address down above a half-finished Sudoku puzzle that Helen had left beside the bed. ‘I’ll see you there.’
‘It will be our pleasure, Inspector.’
Sitting up in bed, a little later, Carlyle told his wife about his upcoming meeting with Edgar