'But you do have a point,' she went on, recovering her seriousness. 'Not many people whose hands I'd hold on a hospital visit when I've got work to do. But Lucy's special. She hates hospitals in general, this one in particular. She was in the maternity ward here a while back, had a hell of a time, lost the baby, can't have any more. It takes a real effort of will for her to drive past the place, let alone step inside. So when she asked, I couldn't say no. But also I do admit I've got a professional interest. If some nut's going around offing lawyers, I'd like to be sure I wasn't on his list.'
Joe recognized the attempt to depreciate her unselfish kindness but was happy to go along with it.
'Looks like you're pretty safe if you don't belong to Pollinger's firm,' he said.
'It's a consolation,' she said. 'Also it narrows the suspect field considerably.'
'Only if it's got something to do with this client-account thing,' said Joe. 'No guarantee of that.'
'Now you would say that, wouldn't you?' she said maliciously. 'Because that would mean the most likely candidates must be the remaining two partners, one of whom is skiing in the Alps, while the other is your client. Hiring someone to investigate his own crime is just the kind of sharp move I'd expect Darby Pollinger to make. I hope you got all your money up front Joe. You prove Darby did it, I don't expect he's going to be keen on paying your bills from Luton Jail.'
The fact that she grinned as she said it didn't make it an any less uncomfortable proposition. Joe had already got there himself and had been wondering how he could ask his own employer if he actually had an alibi for the two murders and the attack on Naysmith. The other thing to discover was whether the police had yet made contact with Victor Montaigne.
He said, 'When we were looking at that photo of the partners, you said that Montaigne was known as Blackbeard the Pirate. Is that just because of the way he looks?'
Butcher didn't answer because she was looking over his shoulder at the door which had opened silently. Joe turned to find himself facing a tall slender woman. Her pale drawn face, lack of make-up and short brown hair which looked like it had been cut with a meat-axe couldn't hide the fact that she was very beautiful. Indeed, if anything, these apparent drawbacks actually emphasized her beauty, like a movie star still managing to be box-office radiant despite being beaten, bashed and buffeted by everything six exciting reels could throw at her. Perhaps this was what made her look faintly familiar, thought Joe, who dearly loved a good exciting thriller with a happy ending.
She said, 'Who the hell are you? One of those crap merchants from the press?'
Butcher said quickly, 'Lucy, this is Joe Sixsmith, the investigator.'
'Oh. The one who was on the phone when Felix got attacked?' Her tone became marginally less aggressive. 'I gather you went rushing round to try and help. Thanks for that. Sorry about the cock-up. It was just hearing you asking questions about Victor ... why are you asking questions, by the way?'
She was regarding him suspiciously once more. This was not a lady to mess with, thought Joe. Being a mate of Butcher's should have forewarned him of that.
He said, 'Mr. Pollinger has retained me to look into the case, Mrs. Naysmith.'
Honesty was usually the best policy, particularly as anything else required careful thought.
'Which case is that?'
'Well, the case of Mr. Potter's and Ms Iles's murders and the attack on your husband.'
That sounds like three cases to me, unless you know different.'
She was right, of course. While for them not to be connected seemed to require too long a stretch of coincidence, he of all people should know just how elastic coincidence could be.
Butcher said, 'How's Felix, Lucy?'
'Oh, pretty well. Still a bit concussed and not able to remember much after answering the phone. But the damage to his head is mainly superficial, they say, though when I saw him bandaged like a mummy, I thought he must have lost an ear at least.'
She managed a wan smile. Her teeth were perfect.
Joe said, 'Any chance of me having a few words with your husband, Mrs. Naysmith?'
He thought, short of a chitty from Willie Woodbine, Lucy Naysmith's approval seemed the likeliest route to passage past the guardian cop.
'Why?'
'Just to ask a few questions,' he said, trying to sound laconically purposeful.
She said, uncertainly, 'I don't know... Felix is still sedated. What he needs is lots of rest. And I can't see how you can get anywhere the police aren't going to get a long way ahead of you. Incidentally, you were asking questions about Victor Montaigne when I came in. Why was that?'
'Because if this is one case, not three, then the other two partners could be in ... danger.'
He'd been going to say involved, and he might as well have spared himself the effort at diplomacy because she said, 'You mean you think Victor could have had something to do with this?'
She didn't sound as if the idea was either novel or out of court.
He said, 'I don't know him, Mrs. Naysmith. That's why I was asking questions. What do you think? Is he the kind of guy who could have got mixed up in this sort of thing?'
This sort of thing being murder and embezzlement. Condition of service for lawyers, Big Merv would say.
She was considering it seriously. Or perhaps she'd already considered it seriously and was now considering whether she wanted to share her conclusions.
'What would you say, Cherry?' she compromised.
