Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

the UK. That leaves two possibilities. Either she was harmless, or she had something valuable to sell.’

‘Which one do you think it was?’ retorted Carliss.

‘She wasn’t harmless. I’d venture to guess she was on the run from her own people.’

‘Did Glover and the Professor know each other? Back in the day, I mean. To be honest, I’m struggling to see how these titbits, juicy as they sound, relate to our case,’ asked the inspector.

‘There’s nothing to suggest they did,’ answered Nina, hopeful that no finality was implied.

‘OK, so we’ve got nothing. Glover was a soldier and a spy – no surprise there. The Professor was Russian, or maybe not Russian, and also a spy, for the other side – also not entirely unexpected. Years later, she gets herself killed by her nephew, who is by far the most likely suspect. I think we’ve got ourselves side-tracked. It’s an open and shut case. I’m not getting myself dragged into this murky web,’ protested Carliss.

Nina was angrily chewing on a bright orange nail. ‘You mis-sold him, Lulu. He’s just another PC Plod. What a waste of time that was.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Lucia knew she had to rescue the situation. ‘Nobody in their right mind believes in coincidences. Until we find out what they were really up to, we can’t discount what Nina’s found out.’

‘We’ll need more on Glover if we’re to link him to the Professor,’ the policeman conceded reluctantly.

The women exchanged satisfied looks.

‘That’s all we ask for – patience. We’ve got plenty of gaping holes left.’ Nina stretched out like a cat and fixed him with one flickering hazel eye.

Carliss was fidgeting with his hands, pretending to concentrate on his teacup – translucently white with delicate green chinoiserie. Nina could see that their self-assurance made him doubt his own abilities.

‘So, you two worked together?’ he asked.

Nina took the lead. ‘We made a good dastardly duo. All water under the bridge now.’ She looked out of the tall window. The sun had given way to relentless rain, and the pavement looked distinctly uninviting. ‘Since we understand each other, and with the weather being so filthy, I think we can move on from tea.’ A few taps on her phone, and seconds later the obliging butler materialised with the order. Nina waved him out and poured the champagne. She lit a thin cigarette, cross-legged on a soft ottoman.

‘You look like a smoking man, Inspector. Can I tempt you?’

He picked one out from the outstretched packet. ‘Sobranie. Very nice. A step up from my usual fare.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve given up, Lulu.’

‘Not today. Reminds me of the good times. Cheers, Double N.’

The inspector sank back in the armchair, champagne in hand. Lucia reckoned that, given time, he could get used to Belgravia.

Chapter 28

The rain had eased, and Lucia and Carliss were walking side by side through St James’s Park, a pleasant detour under the guise of catching the 24 bus back north. The line-up of government buildings on Horse Guards Road served as a stark reminder that the case might easily slip from their grasp. Lucia was acutely aware of what lay on the other side of the river and hoped that the death of the Professor wouldn’t end up swallowed in the cavernous belly of Ceaușescu Towers.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

‘I’m thinking this is out of our league.’

‘That’s why I got Nina involved. She’s like a dog with a bone – won’t give up till she gets results. Listen, something’s bothering me. Have you heard any more from your PC about Danny?’

‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t. With all these cheap thrills, I forgot all about it. I’ll give him a ring right now.’ He was about to make the call. ‘Hold on, he’s already sent me a message. Looks like your Danny’s been leaving work every day at four sharp and going to the builders’ merchant. Does that answer your question?’

‘Sort of. Don’t you think that’s odd? No builder goes shopping every day.’

‘Maybe he’s not very organized?’

‘Maybe. What did you say they found in his van the other day?’

‘Nothing. Hold on, that’s not quite right. Fruit.’

‘What sort of fruit?’

‘Can’t really remember. Bananas, I think. And donuts. Makes me peckish just thinking about them.’

Jackpot. It all fell neatly into place. ‘Call your man and tell him to stop Danny and search his van again, and not let him go until we get there.’

‘Are you out of your mind? They can’t search someone on a whim. There are rules. What do you think they’re going to find?’

‘Just what I would expect.’

‘Great, another one of your revelatory hunches. You’d better be right, or I’m looking at an uncomfortable session in the Super’s office.’

‘Given all the transgressions you’ve committed so far, what’s another one?’ She winked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

* * *

On Flask Walk, PC George Harding swore fruitily as he stepped in a freshly laid dog souvenir. It was past two o’clock, but the hangover hadn’t yet lifted. He’d made the mistake of agreeing to go ‘for one’ on a Sunday night, to wet the baby’s head – couldn’t turn down an old friend who was desperate to escape the man-repelling maternity ward. It turned into more than a few; they couldn’t even remember getting home. He took a slug of warm Lucozade and knocked on the door.

‘Is that your van outside?’ Harding said with the best air of authority he could muster under the fraught circumstances.

Danny stood in the doorway, not best pleased at the interruption of his tea break. ‘Yeah, so what?’ A glimmer of recognition lit on his face. ‘Are you the one who pulled me over the other day? I swear, I’ve had it up to here with you lot. Police harassment this is. I’ll be putting