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He tried not to look surprised. “With what?”
She had thought very hard how to address this. Even with complete honesty, there were several sides to it.
He was waiting, interested, keen to be of use again, in anything.
“My husband is commander of the Thames River Police.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I keep up with you…and anyone who matters to you.” His expression darkened. “I know the terrible crime he is investigating.”
This made it more difficult, and at the same time, she was touched that he should still be interested in her life. Perhaps he had no one of his own. She could not remember his having mentioned anyone. Perhaps she should have come more often.
“One of the young men who works for him served in the army before joining the police. He is under a certain degree of suspicion, and I…I would very much like to clear him. He seldom speaks of his past, or his family. He will not say why. It may be something unhappy, rather than wrong. And it may be nothing to do with this current investigation.”
Carlton looked at her, also without pretense at belief. “Suspicion of what? Surely not of being involved in this…atrocity?”
“Of having to conceal something, maybe for privacy’s sake, his own or somebody else’s,” she answered. “If I knew what it was, it may well clear him of all suspicion.”
“And if not?”
“Then it might clear all the others who are also suspect.”
“Yes, I see. Who is this young man?”
She gave him Laker’s full name and date of birth.
She saw from his face that he did not need to think about it. “Yes, of course. A bit rash. A bit emotional. But a good man. I think he will do better in the River Police than in the army. More room for…individuality.”
“What did he do? I believe your judgment, but the commander will need more.”
“Long story, but I’ll make it brief.”
He was interrupted by the arrival of tea and a plate of raspberry jam tarts.
He resumed as soon as it was served.
“This is the truth…” he began, and told her all he had learned.
“Thank you. That…that sounds like the Laker I know. Arrogant, impertinent, brave…and vulnerable. Thank you, Major Carlton. These are most excellent tarts.” She looked at the huge bookcase. “Learned many good secrets recently?”
“Oh, yes! Yes…I can’t tell you…”
* * *
—
SHE TOLD MONK ABOUT her visit that evening. As it was late and he was weary, she related only the least of it, starting with what Will had told her of Bathurst and his family, then what Major Carlton had said. “…So you have no reason to doubt Laker,” she finished.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, too tired to go through the emotions of surprise, pretense, doubt, questioning.
She touched him gently. “You’re welcome. I rather like Laker.”
* * *
—
