‘All on its own?’ The Queen said with a sardonic smile.
‘It puts a whole new meaning to teleporting,’ Grace said.
Both Their Majesties laughed. ‘Straight out of Dr Who?’ King Charles suggested.
‘Indeed, Sir.’
‘It seems from what you’ve told us that technology has played quite a major role in this investigation,’ The King said.
‘Yes, Sir, but so have some good old-fashioned investigation techniques. We were lucky to have somebody who was able to crack the cryptic codes in the diary and the names of those involved, who Sir Peregrine knew all had unrestricted access to the Royal Collection.’
‘In addition to your wife, Cleo?’ The King said, with a smile.
‘Indeed, Sir. She was weaned on puzzles! The last name was the hardest to crack and that, of course, was Sir Tommy who had us all fooled.’
‘How does that proverb go?’ The King asked. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’
Grace smiled and nodded. ‘Sir Jason Finch was for a time very much a POI, as we say.’
King Charles frowned. ‘POI?’
‘A Person of Interest, Your Majesty.’
‘Ah.’
‘For some while, Sir Jason Finch met a lot of the criteria for a suspect. Pretty much up to the deciphering of the code for Sir Tommy — which was WGFTGIGFTG: What’s Good For The Goose Is Good For The Gander. The key to the cryptic clue is the goose — the Magellan goose.’
Queen Camilla smiled, then said, ‘He certainly did have us all fooled. It was very smart of dear Perry to have kept all this information secret in his diary — what a clever Hawk he was!’
‘It was smart, Ma’am. As you say, modern technology also played a major part. As in most investigations these days. Whenever we use any modern technology — or even travel in a modern car — we are leaving electronic footprints everywhere. Villains know that, but fortunately for us, sometimes they’re forgetful, as all humans can be. PC Smoke failed to switch off his phone when he went to take up his position near the south portal of Clayton Tunnel. It puts him clearly there at the time of the shooting. And we subsequently found the sniper rifle he used concealed under floorboards at his house. We also found a motocross motorcycle matching one seen by a witness, in his garage. Traces of mud on the tyres and on the chassis of the machine also match the soil type at the scene of the shooting.’
‘So you are very confident it was Smoke?’ The Queen said.
‘Very, Ma’am.’
‘Remarkable,’ The King said.
‘Detective Superintendent,’ The Queen said, ‘I noticed you seemed to take quite an interest in some of the art in Buckingham Palace.’
‘I did indeed, Ma’am, yes.’
‘How about as a small thank-you, one day in the coming weeks I give you a private tour? And if your wife would like to join us, she would be most welcome.’
Grace could imagine Cleo’s face, and he beamed in delight. ‘I would love that, Your Majesty. I know Cleo would, too!’ He thought for an instant. ‘I also know my colleague Detective Inspector Branson, who played a very big part in the investigation, would really love that, too. Would it be possible for him to join us?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘With great pleasure. Now, is there anything in particular that you would like to see?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I would be more than honoured to leave it to you, Ma’am, as my tour guide.’ Then he smiled. ‘Well, maybe there’s just one part of the Palace we don’t need to worry about.’
‘And which is that?’
‘The roof, Your Majesty. I think I’ve seen enough of that.’
111
Sunday 17 December 2023
‘Get you, tea with your new besties!’ Cleo, lounging back on the sofa, teased. ‘Cucumber sarnies with the crusts cut off? Scones and cream? Victoria sponge?’
‘Just Earl Grey tea, that was all.’
‘Served in the finest china tea set, by the butler of course?’
He smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘You know that bone china is made from real bones, don’t you?’
‘Seriously? I’ve never thought about that before. You mean animal bones, I hope?’
‘Rather than human ones?’
They were squashed together, book-ended by Humphrey leaning against Grace and Kyla against Cleo. The kids were settled and Grace was enjoying his first proper drink in a month. He was holding a very stiff and cold vodka Martini, and Cleo a large glass of wine.
‘I’m sure there are plenty of unscrupulous cemetery operators,’ she said. ‘Half the components of fine bone china is ground-up cremated bone. It’s what gives it the translucency.’
‘Hmm, thanks, that might come under too much information! Think I’ll stick to a plastic mug in future.’ He put down his glass and stroked Humphrey on the nape of his neck. ‘So, how come you know so much about fine china? You got a side-hustle on the go — supplying the potteries with bone ash?’
Cleo grinned. ‘Hang around a mortuary for long enough and you’ll learn everything you never needed to know!’
Grace picked up his glass and clinked hers. ‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said.
‘Your first vodka Martini in a long time. Another influence from your royal buddies?’
‘Influence?’
‘I read that His Maj is rather partial to a Martini, too. But he has it made with gin, rather than vodka.’ She gave him a cheeky glance. ‘Clearly that’s the posh way to do it.’
‘So I’m a pleb, having it with vodka?’
‘Just saying...’
They had spent a happy weekend with the children, decorating the house and the Christmas tree. Noah had proudly displayed the angel on top of the tree that he had made at school. Molly had brought home a cardboard snowman from pre-school. Earlier they had both sat at the kitchen table, with Noah at one end constructing his Lego models and Molly, at the other, putting together a Duplo unicorn figure, loving seeing how focused both children were on their tasks.
‘Did you ever solve the last of the five cryptic ciphers you were given?’ Cleo asked, suddenly. ‘The one about the Horseman? Song of the Horseman or Son of the Horseman?’
Grace nodded. ‘Sorry, I should have told you. Have you still been trying to work it out?’
‘It’s been keeping me awake night after night.’
He looked at her and saw the teasing smile on her face.
‘But I have been mulling on it,’ she added.
‘Denton Scroope finally figured it out. Each of the five clues was someone who had easy access to the Royal Collection — but not necessarily a suspect. It’s Lorraine McKnight, Director of the Royal Collection. McKnight is of Irish origin. In Gaelic it means, son of the horseman.’
‘Sir Peregrine sounds like he had quite an intellect,’ Cleo said.
Grace nodded. ‘You don’t get to be high up in the Royal Household by being a dimwit. Sir Tommy was pretty smart, also.’
‘Just not smart enough?’ she quizzed.
‘Or maybe too smart,’ he replied. ‘He nearly got away with it, so very nearly.’
On the coffee table in front of them, next to a pile of Christmas cards they had opened and read, was a tall stack of pages from newspapers, over the past month, which Cleo had carefully cut out and kept in place with a glass paperweight. It was for posterity, she’d said. A big scrapbook for their children, and one day their grandchildren, to see how famous their dad or grandad — or maybe even great-grandad — had been. The most recent one, from the Telegraph, lay on the top.
The headline read: MURDER IN THE ROYAL HOUSEHOLD — THREE DENIED BAIL.