Seven Dials - Anne Perry [60]
Pitt leaned forward. “Then tell me!” he demanded. “So far I see a man in love with a highly unsuitable woman and determined to stand by her, even if she proves to be guilty of murder. He can’t help her. His evidence makes it worse, not better. But either he’s not aware of that and he’s so incredibly arrogant he thinks his involvement will save her regardless, or else he simply doesn’t care.”
Narraway turned away, shifting his body around in his chair. “You’re a fool, Pitt! Of course he knows what will happen. He’ll be ruined. Unless we can prove some other possibility, he might even hang with her.” He looked back, and when he spoke his voice was shaking. “So find out who else was involved with the woman, or hated Lovat enough to have killed him. And bring me the proof, do you understand? Tell no one else anything at all. Be discreet. In fact, be more than that—be secret. Ask your questions carefully. Use that tact you are so famous for possessing . . . at least according to Cornwallis. Learn everything and give away nothing.” He swiveled back and stared levelly at Pitt as if he could read the thoughts in his head, willing or unwilling. “If you let this slip, Pitt, I will have no use for you. Remember that. I want the truth, and I want to be the only one who has it.”
Pitt felt cold, but he was also angry, and curious as to why it mattered to Narraway in the fashion that it seemed to. Narraway was concealing as much from him as he was telling, perhaps more, and yet he demanded absolute loyalty in return. Who was he protecting, and why? Was it himself, or even Pitt, from some danger he was too new in the job to understand? Or was it Ryerson, out of some loyalty or other motive that Pitt did not know of? He wanted to ask for trust in return, so that he would have a better chance of succeeding, and also to protect himself if he was uncovering evidence that could endanger powerful enemies. But there was no point in asking; Narraway did not trust anyone more than he had to. Perhaps it was the way he had survived in a business that was riddled with secrets and open to a hundred different kinds of betrayal.
“I can’t promise the truth,” Pitt said coolly. “And you certainly won’t be the only one who has it.” He saw Narraway stiffen and it gave him a certain satisfaction, but it was very small, almost lost in the awareness of his own ignorance. “I doubt I’ll have more than pieces of it, but whoever killed Lovat will know, and they may know that I do, depending on whether it was a clever plan or an irresponsible crime of a self-indulgent man . . . or woman.”
“That is why I use you, Pitt, and not one of my men who are used to chasing anarchists and saboteurs,” Narraway said dryly. “You are supposed to have a little subtlety. God knows, you can’t tell a bomb from a fruitcake, but you are supposed to be a competent detective when it comes to a murder, especially if it is a crime of passion and not of politics. Get on with it! Find the rest of the people on your list. And be quick. We haven’t much longer before the government is forced into giving up Ryerson.”
Pitt was on his feet. “Yes, sir. I suppose there is nothing else you can tell me that would be of help?” He allowed his expression to let Narraway know he was aware of his concealment, even if not what it concerned.
Narraway’s face tightened, pulling the muscles in his neck. “Cornwallis trusted you. I may come to, but I do not do so yet, and that is something for which you should be grateful. Much of what I know you are fortunate to be spared. In time you may lose that privilege, and you will wish you had it back.” He leaned a little forward over the desk between them. “But believe me, Pitt, I want Ryerson saved if it is possible, and if there were anything I could tell you that would help you in that, then I would, regardless of what it cost. But if he did conspire with that damned woman to kill Lovat, or even to hide the fact that she did, and it was a simple murder, then I’ll sacrifice him in a trice. There are bigger issues than you know, and they