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"Yes sir. Yes I would." He reached for his coat and scarf. "Can you do that without letting them know who they are? If they know they were his brothers—I mean-Lord Shelburne—"
Monk looked at him sideways and Evan pulled a small face of apology.
"Yes of course," he muttered, following Monk outside. "Although the Shelburnes will deny it, of course, and they'll still ride us to hell and back if we press a charge!"
Monk knew that, and he had no plan even if anyone in the photograph were recognized, but it was a step forward, and he had to take it.
Grimwade was in his cubbyhole as usual and he greeted them cheerfully.
"Lovely
mild day, sir." He squinted towards the street. "Looks as if it could clear up."
"Yes," Monk agreed without thinking. "Very pleasant." He was unaware of being wet. "We're going up to
Mr. Grey's rooms again, want to pick up one or two things."
"Well with all of you on the case, I 'spec' you'll get somewhere one of these days." Grimwade nodded, a faint trace of sarcasm in his rather lugubrious face. "You certainly are a busy lot, I'll give yer that."
Monk was halfway up the stairs with the key before the significance of Grimwade's remark came to him. He stopped sharply and Evan trod on his heel.
"Sorry," Evan apologized.
"What did he mean?" Monk turned, frowning. "All of us? There's only you and me—isn't there?"
Evan's eyes shadowed. "So far as I know! Do you think Runcorn has been here?"
Monk stood stiffly to the spot. "Why should he? He doesn't want to be the one to solve this, especially if it is Shelburne. He doesn't want to have anything to do with it."
"Curiosity?" There were other thoughts mirrored in Evan's face, but he did not speak them.
Monk thought the same thing—perhaps Runcorn wanted some proof it was Shelburne, then he would force Monk to find it, and then to make the charge. For a moment they stared at each other, the knowledge silent and complete between them.
"I'll go and find out." Evan turned around and went slowly down again.
It was several minutes before he came back, and Monk stood on the stair waiting, his mind at first searching for a way out, a way to avoid accusing Shelburne himself. Then he was drawn to wonder more about Runcorn. How old was the enmity between them? Was it simply an older man fearing a rival on the ladder of success, a younger, cleverer rival?
Only younger and cleverer? Or also harder, more ruthless in his ambitions, one who took credit for other people's work, who cared more for acclaim than for justice, who sought the public, colorful cases, the ones well reported; even a man who managed to shelve his failures onto other people, a thief of other men's work?
If that were so, then Runcorn's hatred was well earned, and his revenge had a justice to it.
Monk stared up at the old, carefully plastered ceiling. Above it was the room where Grey had been beaten to death. He did not feel ruthless now—only confused, oppressed by the void where memory should be, afraid of what he might find out about his own nature, anxious that he would fail in his job. Surely the crack on the head, however hard, could not have changed him so much? But even if the injury could not, maybe the fear had? He had woken up lost and alone, knowing nothing, having to find himself clue by clue, in what others could tell him, what they thought of him, but never why. He knew nothing of the motives for his acts, the nice rationalizations and excuses he had made to himself at the time. All the emotions that had driven him and blocked out judgment were in that empty region that yawned before the hospital bed and Runcorn's face.
But he had no time to pursue it further. Evan was back, his features screwed up in anxiety.
"It was Runcorn!" Monk leaped to the conclusion, suddenly frightened, like a man faced with physical violence.
Evan shook his head.
"No. It was two men I don't recognize at all from Grimwade's description. But he said they were from the police, and he saw their papers before he let them in."
"Papers?" Monk repeated. There was no point in asking what the men had looked like; he could not remember the men of his own division, let alone those from any other.
"Yes." Evan was obviously still anxious. "He said they had police identification papers, like ours."
"Did he see if they were from our station?"
"Yes sir, they were." His face puckered. "But I can't think who they could be. Anyway, why on earth would Runcorn send anyone else? What for?"
