The Consequences of Fear, Jacqueline Winspear [most important books to read TXT] 📗

Caldwell. I know your men are pressed for time, so I went along to the place where theboy said he had seen the murder take place, and I found blood.”

“There’s a lot of it about. And bodies, and bits of bodies.” Caldwell exhaled audibly. “You know what one of the firemen found the other morning? He goes into a shelter and finds everyone dead. Not a mark on them. Twenty people, women and children, and they are all dead. The bomb knocked all the air out of their lungs and they died instantly. Gone, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Maisie could see emotion overwhelm the usually derisive policeman. “We’re seeing terrible things, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever get over it, Miss Dobbs. What I’ve seen since war broke out will stay in my head forever, I’msure—and I’m a copper. We expect to see things most people don’t.” He shook his head. “Right then. Back to the boy. You sayyou found blood?”

“Yes, and it looked as if it had been covered with the crumbled cement and sand that’s left when the rubble has been clearedoff the road—most of the area is a bomb site.”

“What was the lad doing there?”

“Running a message.”

“Who for?”

Maisie widened her eyes.

“Oh, all right,” said Caldwell. “But is there anything you can say?”

“I’m afraid I can’t—but I wondered if you might know which mortuary a body from that part of Vauxhall might be taken to,if it were found by the ambulance service. I haven’t been driving since last year—since . . .”

“Since your mate copped it. Don’t blame you. How is she?”

“One more operation to go—in December, a couple of weeks before Christmas.”

“Poor woman.”

“Anyway,” said Maisie, anxious to press on. “We would have taken the bodies to Lambeth, but I wanted to know if you’d receivedany word from the pathologist that a death by stabbing had been recorded.”

“What’s it been? Four days? We should have been told, but—”

“But when someone’s dead, they’re dead, and the pathologists are overwhelmed.”

“I hate to say it, but yes. Or—and believe me, I hate encouraging you in your little quests, Miss Dobbs—if what you say istrue, the body could have been removed by someone else or taken down to the water and dumped there with some ballast tiedto the feet. It’s not as if we’re short of lumps of rubble in London, is it?”

Maisie shook her head, sipped the last of her tea and stood up. “You’re right—but I had a few moments to spare and thoughtI’d drop in to see what you thought. Could you do me a favor and perhaps telephone the pathologist at the mortuary in Lambethand—”

Caldwell caught her eye. “Are you as convinced as you say you are, Miss Dobbs? I’ve worked with you a few times now, and despiteall I say to wind you up at times, I know you know what you’re doing. I know doubt when I see it too—and there’s a littlebit of doubt in your eyes.”

Maisie sighed. “He was a tired boy at night in a bombing raid. On one hand I have to believe him because I have some more . . .anyway, on the other hand I know it’s possible to see dragons lurking in the shadows when you’re scared.”

“What were you about to say then? You have some more what? Evidence? Now then, let me just—”

“Sir!” The door opened following a single knock, and the young constable entered. “Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but we’ve just had the river police on the blower again, and they want to know when you’ll be down to look at the body that was hauled in by the crew trying to bring up the Spitfire that went down into the water last night. What with the crane and two dredgers, there’s people gathering to watch. They’ve been trying not to attract attention to the murder victim, but they’re getting worried about it, sir. I told them you were held up, but they said there’s already a reporter snooping around, though so far he’s only been interested in the Spitfire, which they’ll be hauling out as soon as they’ve got the chains around it. Shall I call down for the motor car?”

Caldwell raised his eyebrows. “Thank you for that, Watling, lovely timing as usual. I’m going to be having a word with youabout the importance of maintaining confidentiality in the department.”

“Sir?” The young detective constable’s brow furrowed.

“Oh, never mind. Yes, call Digby to bring the motor round, because we’re not walking down there.”

“Yes, sir.” The constable turned to leave and knocked his elbow against a filing cabinet. “Ow!”

“Watch it, Watling—that thing cost money. I’ll have your wages docked for that.”

Maisie watched the constable as he returned to his desk. She inclined her head, then turned to face Caldwell. “A body comingup from the river, Detective Superintendent?”

Caldwell sighed. “Yes, Miss Dobbs—a body. We got the message a little while ago. Knife wounds to the abdomen and heart, justthe sort of thing you’ve been asking about—no more information than that at this stage. What with the disturbance caused bybringing up the Spitfire, it must have dislodged the deceased. I didn’t want to say anything, because we’ve been under attackfor over a year, and it could be anyone.”

“Bombs don’t usually land with knives on board, Caldwell.”

“All right, all right—you’d better come with me. The pathologist is there now to see to the poor boy who went down with hisSpitfire.”

 

A crowd of people had gathered around the police cordon along the Embankment, though it was clear their main focus was theSpitfire about to be winched out of the murky waters of the Thames.

“This is why I wanted the motor,” said Caldwell. “We could’ve walked, but then we’d have had trouble getting through that lot. Last thing I want is a blimmin’ press bod collaring me for a comment because he’s heard there’s more than one body coming up.”

Maisie nodded and followed Caldwell as he made his way around the perimeter of the cluster of people gathered, an audienceof onlookers who responded with