‘Love to.’ He gestured to the file under his arm. ‘And I’ll tell you the story of Cyril Tweats’ unluckiest client.’
With that he set off for the Pierhead. Crossing the Strand, he saw Kim Lawrence fifty yards ahead of him and put on a spurt to catch her up.
‘Not in court this morning?’
She seemed genuinely pleased to see him. ‘I’ve done my duty. A number of my clients were charged with breach of the peace. They’re anti-nuclear campaigners, and they threw eggs at a junior industry minister who won’t be content until even our tap water is radioactive.’
‘Is every case a crusade with you?’
She gave him a long look. ‘I hope so. And besides, you don’t do so badly yourself. The place was buzzing with news of the Waltergate settlement. Well done.’
She was not a woman who gave out compliments like calling cards and he felt himself blushing. Quickly, he said, ‘Patrick Vaulkhard handled the negotiations. I took a back seat.’
‘He’s the best man for a case like that, but I know you were living with it night and day long before he was briefed.’
They reached the hut on the Pierhead and he unlocked the door which led to Jock’s underground domain. ‘What brings you here? Not on your way to the Land of the Dead, by any chance?’
‘I want to collect some files from archive,’ she said, following him down the flight of stairs. ‘I could have waited for the messenger to come round this afternoon or sent my articled clerk Adrian out — it’s become a second home to him anyway, since Jock let him practise the saxophone here — but I need the exercise.’
He appraised her lean figure and thought about saying that she didn’t look in need of exercise, but he had the feeling that she was not a woman who would respond to such a clumsy line of chat. Instead, as they walked past the old deserted ballroom, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re here. I’m beginning to feel it’s not safe for me to wander around on my own. Since we last spoke, my office has been burgled and I’ve stumbled across the body of a client of mine.’
‘I thought that was par for the course with Harry Devlin. The talk round the courts is that you’ve been mixed up with as many mysterious deaths as Inspector Morse. You’re not by any chance a fan of opera?’
‘Hate it. I don’t mind some of the tunes but I simply can’t follow the lyrics. As for my own reputation, such as it is, blame my curiosity. It usually gets the better of me — although that isn’t so hard to do. You remember I mentioned the Sefton Park Strangling to you? Ernest Miller, the man who interested me in the case, is dead. I’m more than ever convinced that Edwin Smith, who was found guilty, did not kill the girl. And whoever broke into my office went through all my papers but took nothing.’
A faint smile slid across her face. ‘But apart from all that, nothing much has been happening? Who were your burglars, undercover investigators from the Legal Aid Board?’
‘Can’t have been, they didn’t leave any forms behind for me to fill it. No, my bet is, the intruder was searching for Cyril Tweats’ old file on the case.’ He patted the folder under his arm. ‘I’ve decided to bring it back here, where it’s out of harm’s way.’
‘So you’re sure Miller was on to something?’
‘He was eccentric, perhaps, but no fool. Incidentally, the good news is that his heart turned out to be in the right place. He didn’t have any family, so he instructed me to draw up a will leaving everything he had to MOJO.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘The bad news is, he died before he got round to signing it.’
Kim Lawrence stared at him for a moment, then shook her head and swore. ‘So who gets the money?’
‘The Crown, presumably. And before you say anything, I know the national finances are in a poor way, but I don’t think the Chancellor of the Exchequer is implicated in Miller’s death.’
They turned into the archivist’s room and Harry said, ‘Hello, Jock. I have something for you.’
The little Scot beamed with delight as he was handed the file. ‘You’re not returning the old file you took away the other day, by any chance? Splendid, absolutely splendid! So often I have to chase people up. They forget to send things back here, where they belong.’
‘This is the best place for the file of Mr Edwin Smith. Look after it, though. Someone out there would dearly love to get his hands on it.’
‘Harry’s involved in another of his mysteries,’ explained Kim.
‘So I gather,’ said Jock. ‘Come on, for Heaven’s sake, you must tell us the whole story.’
‘It will take a while,’ warned Harry.
‘So much the better,’ said Kim. ‘Anything to put off the evil hour when I have to return my phone calls.’
‘You’re a woman after my own heart. Okay, here goes.’
He recounted at length how Miller had first interested him in the Sefton Park case, his discovery of the body and his growing suspicion that the burglary of his office was no coincidence. When he had finished, Jock scratched his bald head in bewilderment.
‘What on earth makes you think all these incidents are connected?’
‘Come on,’ said Kim. ‘Harry’s a noted amateur sleuth. You ought to trust his detective instinct.’
Jock gestured to an old paperback of The Big Sleep nestling up to his visual display unit. ‘See that? One of my favourite shamuses. I always fancied being a private investigator myself. Tell you what, why don’t you tell us your own ideas and we’ll let you have our theories?’
‘Sounds like foul play to me,’ said Kim. ‘Miller tried his hand at blackmail and was murdered for his pains.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said Harry. ‘There were no signs of a disturbance in his house and the police didn’t seem to think he’d been killed by a person or persons unknown.’
‘I rest my case.’
He grinned. When their paths had crossed in court, Kim Lawrence had been earnest and determined, never revealing a sense of humour or irony. The more she relaxed, the more he liked her. ‘And your prime suspect?’
‘How about this man Ray Brill? I don’t read many detective stories — real-life crime is enough for me — but as I understand it the man with the cast-iron alibi is invariably the one who dunnit.’
‘Dead right, although I can’t believe that the police didn’t check Ray out thoroughly, even though Edwin was soon in their sights. After all, the finger would usually point at the boyfriend in a case like that.’
‘I agree,’ said Jock. ‘Besides, surely Miller couldn’t prove anything after thirty years? It doesn’t make sense to me. Presumably there was no evidence of any kind to suggest that Edwin Smith wasn’t guilty. So — even if someone else was accused, presumably he could laugh it off.’
Harry nodded. ‘Exactly. And yet I can’t help feeling that someone has taken Miller’s enquiries all too seriously. True, the death and the break-in might have nothing to do with Miller’s investigations. His visitor may have been the local pools collector and I may have been burgled by a teenage delinquent with time on his grubby hands. But I find it hard to believe.’
‘Perhaps the answer is in Cyril’s file, after all,’ said Kim.
‘If so, it’s escaped me.’
‘Shall I tell you my guess?’ asked Jock. His dark brown eyes were shining: involvement in a real mystery, even at second-hand, clearly enthralled him. ‘I reckon Miller was rattled by his visitor. A man who had killed Carole Jeffries might be ready to kill again. Perhaps he feared for his own safety and thought the best course was to say that the crucial information was in your hands, not his. Then with all the excitement he had an asthma attack and died. A genuine accident. The man stole Miller’s own file but Cyril’s was a red herring — yet he swallowed Miller’s story and couldn’t resist searching through your office for it even though he knew he would never be proved guilty of murdering either Carole or Miller.’
‘Plausible,’ said Harry, ‘except for one thing. The burglary occurred before the unknown visitor knocked on Miller’s door. Back to the drawing board, Marlowe.’
Jock sighed. ‘I agree it’s a fascinating case. Imagine all the skeletons that have safely been locked in their cupboards for the past thirty years.’ He gestured at the file-laden shelves all around. ‘And look at all this stuff. There must be so many secrets locked away down here, stories from long ago of crime and romance and greed. Yet I never get to know about any of them. It’s a tantalising thought. So do keep me posted with your investigations. I’d love to have the chance to pit my wits.’
