I didn’t think there was much Tree could do, but I understood the value of a diversion, so I opened the door and let him follow me in.
“Boyle! About time!” As I’d suspected, the windbag was Major Charles Cosgrove. He was seated at Cook’s desk, not wearing his usual uniform, but dressed in a tweed suit, the vest’s buttons straining to keep his belly from bursting out. Inspector Payne sat across from him, a glazed look in his eyes. I felt sorry for the man; he must have had his fill of Cosgrove by now.
“The MPs were a bit drastic, Major,” I said.
“They were obviously necessary,” Cosgrove said, slapping a file closed on Cook’s desk as he took notice of Tree. “Who is this soldier and why is he here?”
“Billy … I mean, Captain Boyle got me out of a jam, sir,” Tree said. “He got a medic to patch me up and was taking me back to my unit. I guess that’s why you couldn’t find him. I wanted to explain, so he wouldn’t be in hot water.”
“Sergeant Eugene Jackson?” Cosgrove opened the file and pulled out a photograph. “Bit hard to tell with the bandages and that swollen eye, but I’d say you’re the fellow they call Tree. Am I right?”
“Why am I in that file?” Tree asked. “Who are you anyway?”
“Is that a state secret today, Major?” I said, interrupting before Tree got himself in too deep.
“Major Charles Cosgrove,” he said, introducing himself. “In mufti today so as not to draw undue attention to the flogging of Captain Boyle. Sergeant Jackson, please be so good as to wait outside with Constable Cook.”
“Okay, Major Cosgrove,” Tree said and shot me a wink on his way out. I knew he wanted to repay me for getting him out of that rigged fight, but he didn’t know enough about Cosgrove to understand how dangerous he was. He’d made the same mistake years ago with Basher, and Cosgrove made Basher look like an amateur. I heard the door shut, and waited until Tree’s footsteps faded away. He had enough problems without the gatekeeper for the British Empire on his back.
“Okay, Major,” I said as I took a seat. “What’s this all about?”
“It is
I glanced at Inspector Payne, who lifted his hands from his lap, palms up, signaling that he was lost as well. I didn’t like the legalistic sound of those words, and I was sure they were mentioned somewhere in the Articles of War. Probably in the same paragraph as courts martial and hard labor. I went through the possibilities of what I might have done and came up empty. Then I recalled something about checking in with Cosgrove. Every day, was it? At least it gave me something to apologize for.
“I’m sorry, Major. I was supposed to call you, right? I know Kaz did, but I forgot last night, I know.”
“Yes, you were supposed to check in each day, which you have yet to do. Consider yourself fortunate that I have my own means of following your progress, or lack of it. I’m sure you were too busy dining with your friends to place a simple telephone call.”
“Major, my progress has led me to nearly being drowned. Someone clobbered me and pushed me into the canal. That means we’re close to the killer.”
“I am glad you survived, Boyle. But I am not concerned about your lack of communication. It is your disobedience of a direct order I am here to discuss. Do you recall that I told you the Millers were not under suspicion, and that other than an initial interview, neither you nor Inspector Payne were to further involve them in this investigation? Is that not correct, Captain Boyle?”
“You said that, Major, but you weren’t on the scene. Neville was killed on their basement stairs. I couldn’t ignore that.” I figured that was all I needed to say on the subject.
“No, Captain Boyle, it is
“Sure, Major, I get it.”
“None of them are to be taken into custody or questioned officially,” he said, obviously not believing I did get it. “If you need to talk to them, pay a social call and have a nice chat. Inspector Payne has heard much the same, so I hope there will be no further confusion upon this point. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, clear as rain on my parade, Major. But you can’t tie our hands like this.”
“We are not engaged in a debate. You either understand these orders, or require further clarification. Which is it?”
“Understood, Major. But I do have one question,” I said.
“Go ahead.”
“Why? Why are the Millers off limits?”
“They are not off limits. Feel free to visit them in their home in a cordial manner. Now, I’ve sent Big Mike back to London. You don’t need an entourage to carry out this investigation. Having too many people about may have led you to dispatch Big Mike and Inspector Payne to take Miller to the police station in the first place.”
“Now hold on,” Payne said. “I’ve listened to this blather long enough. Captain Boyle did not dispatch me anywhere. We agreed Miller should be interrogated, like any sensible coppers would, here or in America. I’ve a mind to pay that social call to George Miller tonight, and find out what makes him so special.”
“You do that, Inspector Payne,” Cosgrove said in a low, threatening voice, “and I’ll break you. I’ll take your pension and put you in prison for the duration of the war. And don’t think I can’t. Or won’t. Now please wait outside for Captain Boyle. I need a private word.”
“Gladly,” Payne said, lifting his lanky frame out of the chair and giving the door a good slam on the way out.
Cosgrove sat back and watched me, his face softening a bit. “Boyle,” he said, weariness creeping into his voice. “Take everything I’ve said to heart. The stakes are enormous, and there is much I cannot reveal to you.”
“But what’s the game?”
“For now, the game has to be trust. The stakes are counted in lives, if not the direction of the war itself.”
“That’s a lot to swallow, Major. It would help to know more.”
“I can’t tell you more.” Cosgrove rubbed his eyes, and I could see the strain he was under as he let out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t shaved well; there was a cut on one cheek and stubble where he’d missed under his chin. He was dead tired. Something was keeping him up nights. Or someone.
“The man in civilian clothes, at Bushy Park. Tall and slim. We saw you have words. Is he calling the shots on this one?” I remembered that Kaz had pointed him out as the man who made Cosgrove sweat.
“He doesn’t exist. You’d do well not to mention him again. And there is always someone calling the shots, as you say.”
“Okay, forget I mentioned him. So what’s the private word you wanted?”
“Miss Seaton,” Cosgrove said, leaning forward and whispering.
“What?” I said, panic surging in my gut. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, yes,” Cosgrove said, trying to calm me. “She is fine, still staying here at the inn. What I’m about to tell you is unofficial. Quite off the record, do you understand?” This wasn’t a directive. I could see the concern in his eyes, sense it in his voice.
“I do.”
“She’s pressed the matter of the extermination camps at a high level. Her father facilitated access to some rather important people for her, but I fear he’s done her no favors.”
“Roger Allen, of the Joint Intelligence Committee,” I said, recalling Diana’s description of her meeting.
“A name that one does not bandy about,” Cosgrove said. “He was not pleased to have his viewpoint questioned. There are those who feel more should be done about the camps, bombing them, that sort of thing. Others maintain that landing on the Continent and defeating Germany militarily is the best way to end their murderous regime.”
“Which group is Allen in?”
“The third group. The group that does not care what happens to the Jews of Europe, as long as they do not become our responsibility. Especially not in Palestine, where an influx of Jews would upset the delicate balance of
