Honnister eyed the desk sergeant and then pushed himself upright from the counter. 'Let's have a noggin,' he proposed. I agreed quickly because it meant he wanted to talk confidentially and I was short of information. On the way to the pub he said, 'You didn't come to chat for old times' sake. What are you after?' I said, 'When we started investigating we concentrated on Ashton and didn't look too closely at Benson, although at one point it did cross my mind that he might have chucked the acid.' 'Not the act of an old family servant.' Neither was drilling his master full of holes-but I didn't say that aloud. 'Did you check on him?' We turned into the Coach and Horses. 'A bit; enough to put him in the clear.' Honnister addressed the landlord. 'Hi, Monte; a large scotch and a pint of Director's.' 'My shout,' I said.
'It's okay-I'm on an expense account.' I smiled. 'So am I.' I paid for the drinks and we took them to a table. It happened to be the same table at which I'd proposed marriage to Penny; it seemed a lifetime ago. It was early, just before midday, and the pub was quiet. I said, 'I've developed an interest in Benson.' Honnister sank his nose into his beer. When he came up for air he said, 'There's been something funny going on in the Ashton family. This will have to be tit-for-tat, you know.' 'I'll tell you as much as I'm allowed to.' He grunted. 'A fat lot of good that'll do me.' He held up his hand. 'All right, I know your lips are sealed and all that bull, and that I'm just a bumbling country copper who doesn't know which end is up-but tell me one thing: was Ashton kidnapped?' I smiled at Honnister's description of himself which was a downright lie. 'No, he went under his own steam. He specifically asked that the police not be involved.' 'So he thought we might be. That's interesting in itself. And Benson went with him. What do you want to know about him?' 'Anything you can tell me that I don't know already. I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel.'
'Bachelor-never married. Worked for Ashton since the dark ages-butler, valet, handyman, chauffeur-you name it. Age at death, sixty-four, if you can believe The Times.' 'Any family-brothers or sisters?' 'No family at all.' Honnister grinned at me. 'As soon as I saw that bit in The Times I got busy. The itch in my bump of curiosity was driving me mad. Benson had a bit of money, about fifteen thousand quid, which he left to Dr. Barnardo's Homes for Boys.' 'Anything else?' I asked, feeling depressed. 'Ever been in a war?' asked Honnister unexpectedly.
'No.' 'Seen any deaths by violence?' 'A few.' 'So have I, in my professional capacity. I've also seen the results of bombs and shellfire. It was a bit difficult to tell after a pathologist had been at them but I'd say Ashton had been shot in the back twice, and Benson shot through the head from the front. Caught in a shell blast, my arse!' 'You've seen the bodies!' 'I made it my business to-unofficially, of course. I went to the mortuary here. I told you my bump of curiosity was itching.' 'Charlie, you keep that under your bloody hat or you'll find yourself in dead trouble. I really mean that.' 'I told you before I can keep secrets,' he said equably.
'Anyway, Sweden isn't in my parish, so there's nothing I can do about it. If they were killed in Sweden,' he added as an afterthought. 'They were killed in Sweden,' I said. 'That's genuine. And they were killed in a Swedish battle practice area while manoeuvres were going on.' I paused. 'Probably The Times got the report wro ng.' 'In a pig's eye,' said Honnister pointedly. I shrugged. 'Anyone else here seen the bodies?' 'Not that I know of. The coffins arrived here sealed and complete with death certificates, probably signed by one of your department's tame doctors. Christ, talk about medical ethics! Anyway, they're underground now.' 'Any more about Benson?' 'Not much. He lived a quiet life. He had a woman in Slough but he gave that up about five years ago.' 'What's her name?' 'It won't do you any good,' he said.
'She died of cancer eighteen months ago. Benson paid for her treatment in a private ward-for old times' sake, I suppose. Other than that there's nothing I can tell you. There was nothing much to Benson; he was just a sort of old-maid bachelor with nothing remarkable about him. Except one thing.' 'What was that?' 'His face. He'd taken a hell of a beating at one time or other. Nature didn't make him like that-man did.' 'Yes,' I said. I was bloody tired of coming up against dead ends. I thought about it and decided that my best bet would be to look into Benson's army career but I wasn't sanguine that anything would come of that. 'Another drink?' 'No, thanks, Charlie. I want to see the Ashtons.' 'Give them my regards,' he said. I drove to the Ashton house and, to my surprise, bumped into Michaelis who was just leaving. Under his arm he carried a loose-leaf ledger about as big as two bibles. 'What the devil are you doing here?' He grinned. 'Playing puff-puffs. You know I'm interested and Miss Ashton gave me permission to mess about in the attic pretty nearly any time I like. It really is a fascinating set-up.' I suppose it wasn't too weird that a counterespionage agent should be nuts on model railways. I indicated the big book. 'What's that?' 'Now this is really interesting,' he said. 'Let me show you.' He rested the book on the bonnet of my car.
The letters 'LMS' were inscribed on the leather-bound cover in gilt.
'This is a set of timetables for the old LMS-the London, Midland and Scottish railway that was before nationalization. Effectively speaking, the railways were nationalized in 1939 and all the trains were steam in those days.' He opened the book and I saw column after column of figures. 'Ashton was duplicating the LMS timetable, but I haven't figured out which year he was using so I'm taking this home to check against some old Bradshaws I have. Ashton's system up there in the attic isn't what you'd call standard practice in the model world-most of us can't afford what he'd got. I told you about those microprocessors he can program. These figures give the settings needed to the control panel to duplicate parts of the LMS timetable. He'd also got similar books for other pre-war railway companies-the London and North-Eastern, the Great Western and so on. It's bloody remarkable.' 'Indeed it is,' I said. 'Which Miss Ashton gave you permission?' 'Gillian. I talked to her a lot in hospital, about her father at the beginning, but one thing led to another. She was lonely, you know, being all bandaged up like that. I used to read books and newspapers for her. Anyway, I talked about the model railway and she found I was interested so she said I could come and play.' 'I see.'
'Gillian's a very nice girl,' he said. 'We get on very well,' He paused. 'I don't spend all my time in the attic.' I studied Michaelis in a new light. It occurred to me that he was unmarried like myself and, if all went well with both of us, I was probably talking to my future brother-in-law. 'Is Gillian home now?' 'Yes-and she's expecting Penny for lunch.' He slammed the ledger closed. 'I heard on the grapevine what's happened to you. I think it's a bloody disgrace. Who the hell was to know…' I interrupted. 'The less said about it the better, even in private. Don't talk about it at all-ever. That way nothing will slip out accidentally.' I consulted my watch. 'If you're so chummy with Gillian I thought you might be staying for lunch.' He shook his head. 'I don't feel like facing Penny so I made an excuse.
You see, Penny hasn't told Gillian about us-the department, I mean.
She doesn't know anything about it and that makes it easier. But I haven't seen Penny since we came back from Sweden and I haven't the guts to face her yet-not after what happened. I have a weird feeling she might read my mind.' 'Yes,' I agreed. 'It is bloody difficult.'
'You're more involved than I am,' he said. 'How do you feel about it?'
'Pretty much the same as you, but maybe a bit more so. Well, I'll go in and see Gillian. See you around.' 'Yes,' said Michaelis. 'I hope so.'