Ending the call, the inspector realized that he hadn’t asked Bernie whether he would be interested in doing a feature on Chase Race and Naomi Taylor. Ah well, it could wait.
With Seymour taking the fall for his little spot of breaking and entering, Carlyle felt comfortable in the familiar surroundings of the back parlour of 46 Doughty Street.
Looking up at the peaceful visage of Ulrike Meinhof, Carlyle wondered if his father might not be right, after all. The inspector could see how, when the game’s finally over, all life’s hassles just melt away. Knowing that no minor irritant can really stress you out any more must be very liberating.
His morbid musings were interrupted by his host taking a seat on the sofa opposite.
‘It was quite a shock to come home and find that our home had been,’ Barbara Hutton paused, searching for the right word, ‘violated.’
Automatically, the inspector slipped into pseudo-social worker mode. ‘I can imagine,’ he purred, sitting forward and clasping his hands together. ‘This type of event can be very upsetting. It can take a while for people to get over it, for them to again feel confident and secure in their own home.’
‘Yes, I can see that.’ Placing her hands on her knees, Hutton did not appear either insecure or lacking in confidence. Poised and relaxed, she was dressed in a pale blue dress underneath a grey cardigan. ‘Derek was furious when we got back. I thought he was going to have a fit.’ For a moment, Carlyle thought she was about to giggle but she quickly got her amusement under control. ‘It was as if all the benefit of the yoga workshop had been undone within five minutes of us getting home. He stomped off back to work wound up as tightly as ever.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘And a Blue Spirit Retreat doesn’t come cheap, I can tell you.’
‘No, I suppose it doesn’t,’ the inspector said blandly.
‘Now I think I’m going to have to take the poor soul back to Costa Rica again quite soon. Otherwise, he will struggle to make it through the winter.’
The inspector’s mind turned to his upcoming summer holiday – five days at his mother-in-law’s place in Brighton – and tried not to feel too sorry for himself.
‘But I suppose these things happen,’ Hutton said, injecting a little brightness into her voice. ‘And the good news is that I hear that you caught the man responsible?’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Carlyle offered up a summary of Seymour Erikssen’s confession.
‘Quite a fellow,’ Hutton observed. She glanced around the room, as if doing a quick inventory. ‘The thing is, apart from making a bit of a mess, he didn’t seem to take anything.’
Ah. Carlyle made a face.
‘He went rooting around in Derek’s study. I don’t know what he thought he would find in there.’
‘Seymour’s not the sharpest tool in the box,’ Carlyle ventured.
Hutton looked at him, uncomprehending.
‘He’s not very smart,’ the inspector explained. ‘That’s why he gets caught so often.’
She nodded. ‘Still, you would have thought he would have taken something, wouldn’t you? After all, that was the whole point of the exercise, wasn’t it?’
‘Maybe he was disturbed when the police turned up.’
‘Ah, yes. That might be it.’ Getting up, Hutton signalled that the conversation had run its course and it was now time for him to leave. ‘Of course, you did warn us of the dangers, Inspector.’
‘Just part of the job,’ Carlyle replied, struggling to his feet.
‘Thank you for keeping such a close eye on things while we were away.’
She began ushering him towards the door. ‘And thank you for coming back to check on everything.’
‘No problem. Maybe you should look at upgrading your alarm system.’
‘That is a very good idea. Derek said the same thing. He was particularly annoyed that the security cameras didn’t work.’
‘Technology can be tricky,’ the inspector observed. Reaching the entrance to the hallway, he paused. ‘There was just one other matter.’
A brittle smile crept across the woman’s face. ‘Yes?’
He gestured towards the painting. ‘I was just wondering, given your interest in recent German history, whether you knew a woman called Sylvia Tosches?’
Staring at the front door, Hutton appeared lost in thought. ‘I know of her,’ she said quietly. ‘She was an associate of Baader, Meinhof and the rest. Not a major player, but part of the wider ensemble.’
The inspector eyed her carefully, waiting to see if she would say more.
‘She escaped from police custody, as I recall.’ Hutton restarted along the hall, walking like a deep-sea diver edging along the sea bed. ‘Vanished.’
‘That’s a hard trick to pull off.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ With an excess of concentration showing on her face, Hutton reached for the door handle. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I had a run-in with her son recently.’
‘Oh?’ Opening the door, she took a moment to compose herself. ‘I didn’t know that she had children.’
‘No reason that you would.’ Carlyle stepped past her, out onto the street.
‘And what was the son doing in London, Inspector?’
‘He was looking for his mother.’
‘And did he find her?’ Standing on the doorstep, Barbara Hutton wrapped the cardigan tightly around her chest, scanning the heavens as if searching for Divine salvation.
‘I’m afraid not.’ Carlyle gave a rueful smile. ‘Some things just don’t get resolved, do they?’