What was the link?
Blackmail?
Did the key lie in the five pieces of encryption, one of which Cleo had possibly solved last night. A Rose Between Two Thorns?
In the car on the way here, he and Glenn agreed that it was very possibly a reference to Rose Cadoret — but if so, why was it coded? Was he suspicious of her? Or was she an innocent trapped between two conspirators? Or was there some other reason? He made a note to talk quietly to Sir Tommy about her later.
He had also been thinking about all Sir Tommy had said about Greaves, as well as all his team had found out about him. Greaves lived well. In addition to his St James’s Palace home — while grace but no favour these days, as Sir Tommy had put it, meaning he had to pay rent, albeit a reasonable one — he had a country pile in Wiltshire, with a retinue of servants, and generally lived pretty high off the hog.
Financial Investigator Emily Denyer had confirmed that prior to joining the Royal Household, Greaves had been in the Royal Navy. Both Sir Peregrine and Lady Margot had some considerable inherited wealth, giving them an income way above his relatively modest Royal Household salary. But had Sir Peregrine been further supplementing his income by stealing from the Royal Collection — while disingenuously trying to point a finger at others?
And, in particular, I want to expose the ringleader of this sordid little group. Someone who is high up in Royal Service, who I have respected for very many years, and who I know is valued and trusted by both His Majesty King Charles and Her Majesty Queen Camilla.
Could one hypothesis be that Geoffrey Bailey had found out what Sir Peregrine had been up to — and been blackmailing him? Then, after the Private Secretary’s death his co-conspirators had decided to silence Bailey? Or Bailey and Peregrine were working together to find out more information?
For the next twenty minutes, Mosse talked them through his team’s actions to date, making frequent references to his notes. With the exception of ignoring the possibility of Bailey’s murder being perpetrated by someone outside the Royal Household staff, he had covered pretty much everything and everyone that Grace would have done too, starting with a list of everyone who was on duty at the Palace over the weekend, including, importantly, overnight on Sunday.
A complication was there was no failsafe logging in of the Household staff, many of whom came and went as it suited them. Mosse had two officers interviewing the Palace guards who had been on duty during the period, as well as the Royal Protection Officers, for the names of everyone they could recall seeing on the premises during this time.
Mosse clearly wasn’t a complete idiot, Grace thought — he just presented as one.
‘And where is your team at currently, Roy, on the murder of Sir Peregrine?’
‘We’re making progress.’
‘Any suspects?’
‘Not yet but I think we may be getting close.’
‘The coded diary you have — any luck breaking the code?’
‘It’s being worked on.’
‘Good, you will keep me posted?’
‘If you like — but email would be quicker,’ Grace said lightheartedly.
Mosse looked at his deadpan expression, uncertain whether he was joking. ‘Right, yes, haha, good point. So, is there anything else I can do for you today, anyone you’d like to see?’
‘I’d like to read the pathologist’s report.’
‘I can... er... Pony Express that to you.’
Grace gave him a smile then glanced at his watch. ‘We’re meeting a colleague, Polly Sweeney, she’s the Family Liaison Officer for Lady Greaves and she was going to see her this morning, to see if she could establish any connection between her husband and the deceased footman.’
‘Perhaps I should come with you — or bring Polly Sweeney here, in the new spirit of our openness and working together,’ Mosse said.
‘Certainly,’ Grace said. ‘And the other thing is I need to use the bathroom.’
Grace was suddenly distracted by the ping of an incoming text. He nodded, looking down at his phone. It was from Shannon.
Call me as soon as you can. I have found something!
77
Tuesday 28 November 2023
In contrast to the classic stately home feel of the wing of Buckingham Palace they were in, the men’s washroom was a surprise to Roy Grace. It looked like it belonged in a modern five-star hotel. A long row of oval basins, in a black-and-white veined marbled effect, and each with a gilded oval mirror above. Each had quality liquid-soap dispensers, free-standing, as if in the knowledge that only respectful people came here, and respectful people did not steal soap.
As the three detectives washed their hands, Mosse, busily looking at his reflection in the mirror and making tiny adjustments to his facial hair said, ‘Roy, I’m glad of this opportunity to clear the air between us. Not just because cooperating is the sensible way forward, but I think you need to be aware of something.’
Grace frowned. ‘I do?’
Mosse shot an irritated glance at Glenn Branson, as if wishing him out of the room. Then he lowered his voice. ‘I’ve just been informed of an ACC vacancy coming up in Sussex Police. I’m going to apply for it and I’ve been told I’ve a good chance of getting it.’
‘Really?’ Grace tried to hide the dismay in his voice. ‘Well, that would be great, Greg.’
‘I was thinking, perhaps — if you wouldn’t mind — you could put in a good word for me, with your Chief?’
‘Of course, I’d be delighted.’
Raising his voice above the whirr of the electric hand-dryer, Mosse said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t applied for the role yourself.’
‘It’s because I love my job. My rank is the highest rank where it’s still possible to be a hands-on detective. Go any higher and you become desk-bound. That’s not what I joined up for.’
‘You’re not ambitious to become a Chief Constable one day?’
‘No, I’m not. I’m ambitious to solve murders.’
‘Well, maybe if I get the job, I could at some point trade roles with your current boss, ACC Nigel Downing. He might like to have a different responsibility from Major Crime — to broaden his portfolio and next promotion chances. Be fun if we worked together, don’t you think?’
‘I’m sure,’ Grace tried to reply, quietly, but the two words were trapped, like a silver medal, in his gullet.
78
Tuesday 28 November 2023
Rose Cadoret shut the door to Sir Jason’s office. The meeting with the Keeper of the Privy Purse had been short and to the point as he had to dash to the airport for his flight to Amsterdam. As she walked along the corridor and up the stairs, she recalled what she had told Jon Smoke — and only partly in jest — that the room she was now entering was the place she would want to be when the zombies attacked. It was from here that she would make her last stand against them.
The Indian Room. The domain of The King’s Armourer. It was also the room from which the then recently abdicated Duke of Windsor — formerly King Edward VIII — watched the coronation of his brother, King George VI.
Located on the north-east corner of the Principal Corridor of Buckingham Palace, next to the Chinese Dining Room, the Indian Room had tall windows with crimson drapes, giving views across the front courtyard and Green Park, and a magnificent vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined with mostly empty, magnificent inlaid walnut display cases. These were currently in the process of being filled with over three hundred of the most beautiful, lethal and indestructible swords and daggers ever made.