The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [109]
Pitt did not attempt to press him further until they were back in his office and the door closed, surrounded by books and papers and the paraphernalia of administration. It looked impersonal, sanitized from the confusion and despair he had just seen, and which still clung to him, thick in his throat like a taste he could not get rid of.
“What sort of a man am I looking for, Dr. Melchett, if it is that kind of obsession?” he asked finally. “What sort of character? What manner of family? What past will he have that has driven him to this?” He stared at Melchett. “What event will have provoked him to do this now, not before, not after?”
Melchett hunched his shoulders again in his odd, characteristic gesture.
“God knows. It could be anything from a real tragedy, such as a death in the family, right down to something as trivial as an insult. It could spring from memory. Someone said or did something that reminded him violently of a past shock, and he was disconnected, so to speak, from reality.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m sorry, there is really little use in my speculating. I should think some sort of moral or religious passion is your best line. When I asked if your victims could have been soliciting women you did not reply. Were you being discreet?”
“Possibly,” Pitt conceded. “But it wouldn’t be the answer. One of them at least had a long-standing relationship with a lover.”
“You mean a mistress,” Melchett corrected. “That doesn’t prevent him from—”
“No—I mean what I said,” Pitt reasserted.
Melchett’s eyebrows rose.
“Oh. Oh I see. Yes, well that would make it excessively unlikely he was soliciting a woman. What about the others? Same thing?”
“No reason to think so. But I suppose that could set off the same sort of violent reactions.” Pitt was dubious and it must have shown in his face.
“Could have been anything,” Melchett said with a sharp little laugh. “Something they said, something they did, a trick or gesture, something they wore, a place, anything at all. I would look seriously into the possibility that your man is as sane as most and has a perfectly understandable reason. I’m sorry I can’t help you.” He held out his hand.
It was dismissal, and there was nothing Pitt could usefully do but accept it. It was pointless to go on pressing for information neither Melchett nor anyone else could give him.
“Thank you,” he said, stepping back a pace. “Thank you for your time.”
Melchett smiled, drawing his lips tightly over his teeth. He acknowledged the courtesy, and showed Pitt to the door.
Pitt was hardly back in Bow Street when Farnsworth came in, stared at the desk sergeant, who snapped to attention, then at Pitt, and then at Tellman and le Grange, who were standing just beyond him.
“Find something,” he said eagerly, looking from one to another.
Le Grange shifted his feet and looked away. It was not his responsibility to answer.
The desk sergeant blushed.
“The superintendent is just back from Bedlam,” Tellman said sourly.
Farnsworth’s face darkened. “For Heaven’s sake what for?” He turned back to Pitt irritably. “If this dammed lunatic was safely locked up in the asylum, we shouldn’t be having all this mayhem!” He swiveled to Tellman. “Didn’t you already go there to make sure they hadn’t had an escape?”
“It was the first thing I did, sir,” Tellman replied.
“Pitt?” Farnsworth’s voice was rising with anger and there was a sharp note of anxiety in it.
“I wanted to see if Dr. Melchett could tell me what sort of a man we are looking for,” Pitt replied, biting his lip to keep from losing his own temper.
“It’s damned simple what we’re looking for!” Farnsworth said tartly, beginning to move towards the hall and the stairs up to Pitt’s office. “Jerome Carvell! The man has motive, can’t account for his whereabouts, and we’ll find the weapon sooner or later. What else do you need?