The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [68]
“Are you remaining, Charlotte?”
It did not even cross her mind to condemn his impertinence then for the use of her given name.
“Yes. There is a great deal to be done, and Mr. Lessing still has to continue his duties. He is not a very practical man, not used to running an orderly house.”
“It might be as well to let her do certain things herself. Work cannot heal, but it can alleviate. Idleness gives one time to think.”
“Yes, I . . . I will. I will find household jobs for her to do that do not require thought. But I shall do the planning myself, the preparations for the funeral, telling people, and so on.”
He smiled. “I see a great deal of tragedy in my job, and of ugliness; but I see a great deal of kindness as well. Good evening.” He turned at the door. “Oh, don’t forget, do not go out alone under any circumstances. Even if you should require a doctor, send someone, send Mr. Lessing, or call for assistance next door. They will understand.”
“Mr. Pitt!”
“Yes?”
“Do you know anything further yet? I mean, what manner of man, from what—what walk of life?” She was thinking of George and Emily.
“Do you know something you have not told me?” He was looking at her again in that way that seemed to probe inside her, as if he knew her well, as an equal, not as a policeman.
“No! Of course not! If I knew anything I should tell you!”
“Would you?” There was gentle disbelief in his voice. “Even if it were no more than a suspicion? Would you not be afraid of wronging someone, perhaps someone you loved?”
It was on the edge of her tongue to say quite angrily that she did not love anyone who could possibly be connected with such crimes; then something in him compelled her to be honest—an intelligence, or an honesty in him.
“Yes, of course I should be afraid of wronging someone, if it were merely a matter of suspicion. But I imagine you do not leap to conclusions just because of something someone tells you?” It was a question, because she wanted reassuring.
“No, or we would catch ourselves ten criminals for every crime.” He smiled, showing those strong teeth again. “What is it you do not want me to act upon?”
“You are leaping to conclusions!” she said hotly. “I did not say I knew anything!”
“You did not say so directly, but your evasion makes me believe it.”
She turned away from him, making up her mind not to speak of it. “You are mistaken. I wish I knew something that could genuinely help, but I do not. I’m sorry if anything I said gave a wrong impression.”
“Charlotte!”
“You are becoming overly familiar, Inspector Pitt,” she said quietly.
He came up behind her. She was acutely aware of him. Emily’s words about his admiration flashed across her mind and she found her skin burning with embarrassment and a sudden appalling knowledge that it was true. She stood rooted to the spot.
“Charlotte,” he said gently. “This man has killed four women already. There is no reason to suppose he will stop. In all likelihood he cannot help himself. It is better some innocent person should be suspected unjustly for a while—he will be one of many—than that another woman should die. How old was Lily? Nineteen? Verity Lessing was only twenty. Chloe Abernathy was little more. Or the Hiltons’ maid? I can’t even remember her name! If you doubt the monstrosity of it, go upstairs and look at Mrs. Lessing again—”
“I know!” Charlotte said furiously. “You don’t have to remind me! I’ve been here since last night!”
“Then tell me whatever it is you have thought of, or seen, or heard—whatever it is! If it is wrong I shall find out; no one will be pursued unjustly. He will be caught one day, but better now, before he kills again.”
She turned round without thinking, to stare at him. “Do you think he will kill again?”
“Don’t you?”
She closed her eyes, to avoid looking at his face. “What has happened here? This used to be a quiet, a good place to live. There was nothing worse than a few broken romances, a little gossip. Now suddenly people are dead; we are all looking