Billy?" Maisie used the telephone on Whitting's desk.
"Oh, Miss, I can breathe again. I don't know how many cups of tea I've knocked back, but I couldn't sit still for the waiting."
"We're almost there. Whitting confessed, and is in police custody. There will have to be a formal interrogation and signed confession for anything to really stick, but Caldwell thinks we're on solid ground."
"He was all right, then, Caldwell?"
"I'm sure we'll have our ups and downs when we cross paths again, but as we thought, he seems much easier to get along with now he's been promoted."
"What about the others?"
"Temple is in the custody of military police. Whitting had been his superior officer in the war, and it seemed he idolized him. He kept Whitting informed of everything Michael Clifton did, where he went-even on leave-and I think between them they made Michael's life a bit of a misery, nitpicking him for the slightest infraction. Of course, Whitting was at the HQ, but found plenty of excuses to go out to the units. And Temple was only too willing to cover for him-until today. I am sure Whitting called Temple to alert him to the fact that I would be in contact. And though Temple wasn't involved in the murders, he knew when to look after his commanding officer."
"And I suppose Whitting followed Michael to Paris, in the war."
"Yes, that's what happened, I'm sure." Maisie sighed.
"You all right, Miss?"
"I just wonder about the death of Michael Clifton. I have a feeling that, while Whitting considered Clifton's demise to be part of a plan, he might not have struck him had he not completely lost his temper. Whitting appeared to me to be a man who lived by a code of personal control, who had surmounted the grief of loss, but who was on the edge. Because of the degree of that control, the line separating it from personal anarchy was narrow. But after Michael was dead, it was easy to abandon the body-possibly rolling it into a blanket as if the dead man were asleep-and leave the dugout. There had been intermittent shelling, so all he had to do was use his chain of command to ensure the area where the dugout was situated came under intense fire. We must remember, though, that the dots may link up to reveal a different story, but one with the same outcome."
"No, I reckon you're right, Miss. But what about that other officer?"
"Jeremy Lockwood? I think that might be more troubling in terms of proof, but Whitting may help us there. Caldwell will no doubt exercise an element of brinkmanship and refer to evidence in order to obtain a signed confession. I suspect Lockwood was a naive but observant junior officer who realized that Whitting had ulterior motives in his interaction with Clifton and brought it up in one way or another. Death by sniper is easy camouflage."
"So now what?"
Maisie sighed again. "You may be swimming in tea, Billy, but I'm dying for a cup." She looked at the clock on Whitting's desk. "So I'm off to see Lady Rowan at Fortnum's.'
"Going from one extreme to the other, eh, Miss?"
"To tell you the truth, I think I might be going from a battle charge straight into the lion's den." She paused. "Were there any telephone calls for me?"
"One from Mrs. Partridge, and one from Viscount Compton."
"Oh, did he leave a message?"
"I said what you told me to-that you were out, but that you were having tea with Lady Rowan."
"What did he say?"
"Well, he didn't really. Sort of went all quiet, and then said, 'Thank you, very good,' and rang off."
"That's encouraging." Maisie spoke the words under her breath.
"Sorry, Miss, what did you say?"
"Nothing, Billy. Did Mrs. Partridge leave a message?"
"Just that you call her 'soonest,' as she doesn't quite know what to say to Mr. Sutton."
"That's nothing I want to sort out at the moment. Look, I'd better go or I'll be late for Lady Rowan."
"See you tomorrow, Miss."
"Um, Billy-be prepared to hold the fort tomorrow. I think I might pack my case and go down to Chelstone after tea. I need to see Maurice-I couldn't get him out of my mind all day. Even while I was with Whitting, I felt as if he were looking over my shoulder."
"Right you are, Miss. I've got plenty to get on with-but, Miss, is it all right if I come in a bit late tomorrow? I've got to go with Doreen to the hospital."
"Of course. Is it time for her checkup?"
"Yes. Yes, that's right."
"Oh, here comes Caldwell, I'd better go. 'Bye, Billy."
"'Bye, Miss."
I think we've got everything sewn up here. You're free to leave, Miss Dobbs." Caldwell extended his hand as Maisie stood up from the desk and collected her shoulder bag. "That was good police work, Miss Dobbs. I would've liked to have known earlier what you were up to, but on the other hand-though I hate to admit it-I can see why you wanted to get to the bottom of it all first. Stroke of luck, wasn't it, you seeing the cine film."
"We all need that serendipitous moment, don't we, Inspector?"
"Whatever you call it, I'm glad it happened. A couple of my men have been to see Henry Gilbert, and we now have the film in our possession so that we can prove association between Whitting and Clifton. The bloke wasn't very pleased, mind, said it was important to get it back for a-what did he call that thing? Oh yes, the documentary he was making. Personally, I'd rather see the likes of Louise Brooks at the cinema myself."
"Inspector, I think I will be driving to Kent later today. May I come to the Yard tomorrow afternoon to make my statement?"
"I'll make an exception for you."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." She smiled at Caldwell. "You sailed a bit close to the wind there, when you insinuated that Temple was 'singing like a canary.'"
"Well, it's true military police have him in for questioning, and one of my men is with them, but as you pointed out yesterday, Temple would probably be shocked to know the outcome of some of the orders he received from Whitting. And thankfully, he's talking about those orders, including Whitting's instructions to report even the most minor fault on Michael Clifton's part during the war. It won't do any harm to let Whitting think that Temple has more knowledge than he has, and for him to assume we are in possession of that information. I have no doubt we'll get the full confession we're after, sooner rather than later."
"And what about Libbert?"
"More or less as planned, though my opposite number in the Flying Squad is a bit put out at having to play by the rules because of the embassy. We want Libbert in connection with his relationship with Mullen, the Flying Squad want him because he was a player in Alfie Mantle's game, and the Americans want him home where he can't embarrass them." He gave what Maisie now recognized to be his signature shrug and sigh. "In terms of the law, it could be said he was a victim first, but all the same, he might be encouraged to go back home as soon as we're all done with him and can get him onto a ship."
"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."
Caldwell rolled his eyes, though he smiled at Maisie. "I'll be in touch."
Maisie spotted Lady Rowan Compton almost as soon as she walked into the tearoom at Fortnum and Mason. She was sitting at a table alongside the window, looking out at the street below. Maisie could see she was tense, sitting on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped around a warming cup of tea. As usual, she was dressed with understated elegance, wearing a pale beige skirt and light tweed jacket, set off by a flash of color in the cobalt blue silk blouse worn underneath her ensemble. It was a blue reflected in the feather set into the side of a navy blue hat pinned atop hair that had once been copper red, but was now toned with striking thick strands of gray.