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‘Yes, my parents knew her very well. I’ve got to find a way from stopping this book from coming out before we reveal that Graves is innocent, at least of killing Ebony. Guilty of bigamy isn’t enough.’
‘Any idea how you’re going to do it?’ Kitteridge went on.
‘Not really . . . only vaguely . . . there isn’t long.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘What would you like me to do?’ a
sked Daniel, a little more tartly than he intended.
‘Don’t tell fford Croft just yet. I mean . . . wait until tomorrow. Late tomorrow.’
Daniel would have said later than that, but it was unfair to ask that of Kitteridge. It was his job, too, and he did not owe Pitt anything, either Daniel or his father.
Kitteridge stared at him.
Daniel looked back. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I suppose I want you to look up all the details of his first marriage. All I know is that it was over twenty years ago, within a hundred miles of here, and her name was Winifred Carter. It would look idiotic if it turns out to be have been invalidated, or even annulled.’
‘Or even non-existent,’ Kitteridge pointed out. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not so very hard. It would help if I knew either the date or the place, but I’ll find it. To know the parish would be too easy. It’s just a matter of swotting up the books. Unless it wasn’t the first marriage after all and he was a bigamist twice over!’ He saw Daniel’s expression. ‘Winifred is not such a common name. Just be glad it’s not Mary or Elizabeth. We’ve still got a week – roughly. Although that’s cutting it very fine indeed.’
‘Too fine!’
‘Then get out of here and start seeing Special Branch, or whatever.’ Kitteridge gave a twisted smile, both wry and warm. ‘By the way, the publisher’s name is on your desk.’
Daniel acknowledged his gratitude with an answering smile, and went out.
Daniel caught a cab and directed the driver to Lisson Grove. He would stop a block or two short of his father’s offices at Special Branch. It was a habit to conceal the address so ingrained in him he did it without thought. If Pitt were not in, he would wait for him. At least he had been there often enough he would not have to explain who he was, or for that matter, why he was there. They knew enough not to ask him questions.
In the cab, he sat back and thought about exactly what he would tell his father, whom he would visit, and what it would be better if he did not know. By the time he was there, he was certain.
When he was inside, he explained to his father’s deputy his need to see Pitt. It was a further ten minutes before the junior Home Office minister left Pitt’s room and Daniel was called in.
‘I’m sorry, Father, but it’s very urgent, and it is Special Branch business,’ he said again before he sat down.
Pitt smiled with bleak amusement, but his face was grave. ‘I assumed as much,’ he responded. ‘You have insufficient evidence to persuade Graves not to publish. The fact that the man was hanged will make it so much more appealing. I foresaw that.’
‘No,’ Daniel shook his head. ‘But at least I know no one from Special Branch killed Mrs Graves . . .’
‘Are you certain, or do you hope?’ Clearly Pitt was not yet assured.
‘Positive. She isn’t dead.’
Pitt frowned. ‘Her skull was cracked and her face and upper body disfigured by fire, and she’s not dead?’ His disbelief was too heavy for even the faintest smile.
‘No – it wasn’t Mrs Graves. At least it was . . . the first Mrs Graves, not the current one.’
‘Daniel?’
‘I know! Let me tell you.’ He went on to give Pitt the briefest account he could that covered the facts. ‘But I’ll get him for bigamy. Seven years, if possible. I would keep him there for twenty, if the law allowed it.’
‘But it would still sell the book, probably even more copies,’ Pitt said quietly.
‘Yes,’ Daniel said miserably. ‘I’ve got very few days left to discredit him enough to stop publication. I wish I could bring it to you accomplished, I don’t know where to begin, or how to do it in time. I don’t know where Graves got much of his information from, or how to find out in time.’ He drew in a deep breath and then let it out again. He hated this.
Pitt waited. And it seemed he was not going to help. He must know what Daniel was going to say!
‘Did you do anything?’ Daniel asked instead. ‘You said you were going to.’
