Maisie looked toward the door as Billy returned to the office with visitors.
“Inspector Stratton.” Maisie stood up and stepped forward, though she stopped by the fireplace when she saw the man who accompanied him.
“I don’t believe you’ve formally met my colleague, Inspector Vance.” Stratton introduced the other man, who was his equal in height, if less solid in stature.
With his choice of clothing, Stratton could have been taken for a moderately successful businessman and, to the casual observer, there was nothing to distinguish him from the man in the street. Vance, on the other hand, seemed rather more flamboyant, a brighter tie than one would expect with a blue serge suit, and he wore cufflinks that caught the light in a way that revealed them to be made of something less valuable than a genuine precious metal. She was neither impressed with Vance nor in awe of him, and she thought he probably wanted those around him to have a sense of the latter.
“Inspector Vance, it’s a pleasure.” Maisie extended her hand, then turned to Stratton. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, at such an early hour?”
“We’ve got a few questions for you, and we want answers.” Vance interrupted, his voice pitched at the level he doubtless employed when interrogating those he suspected of gangland associations.
Stratton glared at Vance, then turned to Maisie, who was intrigued to see the men jockeying for position to establish seniority. “Miss Dobbs, as you know, we have been conducting investigations into the activities of Harry Bassington-Hope and, moreover, those he is connected with. We believe you have knowledge that may be of interest to us in our inquiries. I would advise you to share any and all information that you’ve uncovered, even if you consider that it may not be pertinent—we must judge such details ourselves against intelligence we already hold.” Stratton completed his explanation with a look that suggested to Maisie that he would not have called on her in such a way if he were working alone. She nodded once in return to acknowledge the hint.
“Inspectors, I am afraid I have some news for you that will be most unwelcome, for you have not only been pipped to the post, but you are effectively working in the dark with others sniffing along the same trail.”
“What do you mean?” Vance made no attempt to conceal his irritation.
“Look, do take a seat.” Maisie glanced at Billy, who brought chairs from behind the desks. He understood that she wanted to remain standing and he followed suit. “What I mean, gentlemen, is that the Customs and Excise have cast their eyes in the same direction, and though the nature of their investigation is not exactly the same, it overlaps your own, and they are digging the same plot of land, so to speak.” She paused, gauging the effect of her words before she went on. “I am surprised you didn’t know, for I’m sure it would make more sense if you all worked together.” Her eyes met Stratton’s and he shook his head. Maisie’s observation was the equivalent of a jab in the ribs with the tip of her sword. She had let him know she was aware of his difficult relationship with Vance, and he knew there was more to come.
“How the hell—” Vance stood up as if to move toward Maisie, who was standing with her back to the gas fire. The second he began to step forward, Billy edged closer to him.
“Please, Mr. Vance, I am about to tell you all that I know, though it is precious little, I’m afraid.” She had deliberately undermined him, addressing him by the common “Mister,” but to correct her would make him seem churlish.
“Continue, Miss Dobbs, we are anxious to hear what you have to say.” Stratton remained calm.
“Let’s take them down to the station, that’s what I say.” Vance flashed a look at Maisie, then Billy. Then he sat down again.
Maisie ignored the comment and continued, directing her explanation at Stratton. “The Excise are interested in the same people, though perhaps for different reasons. I know only that they are keeping Harry Bassington-Hope in their sights, along with those who would use such a naive person for their own ends. His gambling debts have left him—and his family, without their knowledge—vulnerable. I would imagine—”
Vance leapt to his feet. “Come on, Stratton, we haven’t got all bloody day to listen to her. We’ll find out more on our own, now that we know the Excise boys are on to them.”
“I’ll be there in a moment, keep the engine running.” Stratton turned toward Maisie as Vance left, waiting until the footsteps receded and the front door banged shut before speaking, his tone subdued. “What has all this to do with Nick Bassington-Hope’s death? You must reveal anything you’ve discovered. I realize my reputation may be compromised, but if his death was a result of his brother’s fraternization with these hard nuts…”
Maisie shook her head. “I do not believe there was a direct link.”
“Thank God. At least his sister will rest when she hears that you’ve come to the conclusion that it was an accident after all.”
“That’s not what I said, Inspector.” She paused. “You’d better be off, it sounds like Vance is rather impatient, with that insistent motor horn. I will be in touch.”
Stratton was about to speak again, then seemed to think better of it. He left with a nod to Maisie and Billy.
“BLIMEY, MISS, I was amazed, the way you ’andled them two coppers.” Billy shook his head. “Mind you, you don’t reckon you let the cat out of the bag a bit soon, you know, showed your hand premature?”
“Billy, I barely told them a thing. They can fight it out between themselves, and then with the Customs and Excise. Revealing something of what I know gets them off my back for now—no, let them all come off their high horses and put their cards on the table, then they might achieve something instead of treading on one another’s shoes or being afraid that one department will bag the laurels first.”
“So, what’s been going on—and what do we do next?”
Maisie returned to the table by the window and looked down at their original case map. She picked up a pencil and struck a line through words and scribbled ideas that pertained to the smuggling operation, then she circled the notes remaining, looping them together with a red pencil. Billy joined her and ran his finger along the new lines that charted the progress of her thinking.
“I would never ’ave guessed that, Miss.”
Maisie frowned, her eyes clear, her voice low as she responded. “No, neither would I, Billy. Not at first, anyway. Come on, we’ve got work to do. I won’t be able to prove this without more legwork on our part.” She walked to the door and reached for her mackintosh. “Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I? I know where the lock-up is. We’re going there
