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sp; ‘Good morning, sir.’ Daniel stood in front of him.
fford Croft let the papers fall on the embossed leather surface of his desk. ‘Good morning. Is it, Mr Pitt? Have you anything else to report?’
‘Yes, sir. But I was wondering if Mr Kitteridge had discovered anything that would be usable. If not, I might ask his assistance.’
‘With what?’ fford Croft sat upright, shifting his considerable weight uncomfortably in the chair.
‘That depends upon what I discover in the next few days, sir. I’m hoping Miss fford Croft will assist me with an autopsy.’ Daniel replied.
fford Croft looked startled. ‘Autopsy? On whom?’
‘With the law’s permission, of course, upon Mrs Graves—’
‘For God’s sake, boy! She’s already decently dead and buried, poor soul. If you’re hoping Kitteridge can get you permission to dig her up, after the police have already done a post-mortem, you’re doomed to total failure.’
‘No, I’m not going to ask him for that,’ Daniel replied, keeping his voice as level as he could. ‘But, sir, have you wondered why her face burned so deep?’
‘No – no, I haven’t. Can it possibly matter now? What have you found? Do you really have some hope Graves is not guilty after all?’ He put his head down and raked through his hair, making it even wilder than before. ‘God in heaven, boy! That’s the last thing you need! Was it something to do with Special Branch after all?’ He met Daniel’s eyes reluctantly, his own filled with pity. ‘Do I need to take you off this case? I haven’t anyone else free, or I would never have put you in court in the first place. You’re not fit for that yet, and you’re not fit to do this. But I’ve no one else. I’m sorry . . .’
‘No, you don’t need to take me off, sir,’ Daniel said quickly. ‘And I don’t know whether Graves is guilty or not. He could be innocent. And you owe him the best chance of proving that.’
fford Croft’s eyes were round. ‘Oh! And that’s your job, is it? And blame your own father, or someone under his command? In the eyes of the public, it comes to the same thing. I’m not going to let you do that!’
‘Then let me find the truth. I’m not afraid that my father is behind it!’ That was not entirely true. The sick fear still churned in his stomach that somehow, even in mistaken duty, Pitt would be drawn into it, if only to turn the other way, to disprove evidence of collusion. ‘I’m not!’ he reiterated, not moving his eyes from fford Croft’s.
‘What are you looking for?’ fford Croft said slowly. ‘What do you think there is to find?’
‘Miriam says we should find what inflammatory material caused Ebony to burn like that,’ Daniel replied. ‘If it was something that Graves could not have had in the house then it was brought in by an outsider. How did they get in? Who let them in? A servant, or Ebony herself? Why the disfigurement? It’s extreme. It would take a lot of extra time and care – time he could have used to escape. Sir, there’s something here that we don’t understand. The prosecution never offered an answer. We might find one – if we don’t give up.’
‘We didn’t cover this at trial,’ fford Croft pointed out. ‘Was Kitteridge that negligent?’
‘No, sir. We had no other reasonable suspect then. And we tried to find one among their social friends who disliked Ebony Graves enough, but she was actually well liked, if a little . . . over-enthusiastic. And she had had no affairs that we could uncover.’
fford Croft held up his hand. ‘All right! Then if you get permission, which I very much doubt, I shall ask Miriam to perform the autopsy for you. You’ll not get any reputable surgeon to do it! She’ll not contradict the police surgeon, for a start!’
‘I’m sorry to ask, sir. Will Miss fford Croft get into any . . . trouble . . . for it?’
fford Croft’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Trouble? Miriam? She’s even better at getting into trouble than you are! I will ask her – I have no intention of forcing her. But she has no standing or position to lose. And she is damn good at it!’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Daniel gave a brief smile, then excused himself and went out, intending to look for Kitteridge. And he must have time to prepare himself as thoroughly as possible before going back to face Graves again.
Daniel found Kitteridge despondent, and only half-attentive to the solid, leather-bound book he was reading. He looked up at Daniel. ‘If you’re hoping for something, I don’t have it,’ he warned.
‘How about lunch?’ Daniel asked.
‘Can’t afford the time. I’ll get Impney to fetch me a sandwich. I think there’s damn little point in this. There’s no chance on earth that I’ll find a precedent here. If you’ve got to eat, go—’
‘I’ve got to see Graves this afternoon,’ Daniel cut across him. He was determined to find the source who supplied the information to Graves linking Thomas Pitt to the Portuguese incident. He was not ready to share any of this with Kitteridge. ‘And I want to talk to you first. I’m very polite about lunch. I’ll make it an official request, if you like? I’m not in a position to make it an order, or I would.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Kitteridge agreed. ‘But perhaps I can oblige you. This whole thing is a waste of time. And personally, I am happy for the bastard to hang.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘The usual place?’
They walked in the brisk wind along to the public house, went in and ordered ploughman’s lunches: a big crusty piece of bread with pickles, cheese, and a glass of ale.
‘Well, what have you got that’s worth disturbing me for?’ Kitteridge asked hopefully, when they had found themselves seats.
‘I think Graves really could be innocent, at least of killing Ebony,’ Daniel replied.
Kitteridge froze in amazement, his bread halfway to his mouth. ‘But guilty of what then? You aren’t making a lot of sense. This is no time for fairy stories, Pitt. Their lordships of the court of appeal take a very dim view of it. No sense of humour at all. I should have warned you.’
