A shadow passed across Narraway’s eyes, a moment’s hurt.
“Do I always have to have power?” he asked very softly.
She reached over and put her slender fingers on his arm.
“Not at all, my dear. It is not his weakness you need; it is the humility it brings, and the understanding of others. Without such things he is no use to any of us, ultimately, least of all himself.”
Narraway put his hand over hers, and said nothing.
Pitt knew he had witnessed a very private moment, of both pain and joy. He had never imagined such raw vulnerability in Narraway, or imagined him so intensely human after all.
Vespasia looked back at Pitt. “Godfrey married Cecily for her money, you know. There was a very great deal of it, and he has multiplied it many times.”
“Are you sure?”
“On both counts. I am perfectly sure. The enlarging of her fortune, now his, is common knowledge, but you can easily check it, if you wish.”
“No…that he married Cecily for her money. Does that have anything to do with Abercorn?”
Vespasia’s smile was extremely sad. “Of course it has, Thomas. It was Abercorn’s mother Godfrey Duncannon jilted to do it.”
Pitt and Narraway both stared at her, and neither of them spoke.
Chapter 12
Tellman hugged his daughter so tightly she giggled, then gave a little squeak of protest. He let her go, reluctantly. For him Christina was still a kind of miracle, and her laughter touched him so deeply he was a little embarrassed by it.
He tickled her gently, and pulled faces at her, just to hear her laugh again. He kissed Gracie softly and more lingeringly than he had done for some time, then he went out of the front door and walked off down the road without looking back at them. Perhaps they were not at the window any longer, but if he turned round and saw them, he would remember all the things that mattered to him, and he might lose his resolve to follow the story of Ednam’s corruption to the very end.
If Lezant was innocent, what were all the things that followed from that? It was what Pitt was thinking, which was why they had quarreled. Tellman had refused to follow that path of thought because of where it would lead. It was time to face the truth.
He crossed the street and carried on along the icy pavement, his collar turned up against the wind, although he was so deep in thought he was barely aware of it.
Why would Lezant have taken a gun? He bought opium regularly. It was an arrangement both he and the supplier needed. Neither of them would jeopardize it. Tellman wished the police had been able to find the supplier. There were plenty of records of Ednam trying at the time, but whoever it was had been too careful and too clever for them.
Or had Ednam not tried at all, because he did not need to? Was it possible that he knew? That was a hideous thought. Tellman racked his brain for some reason why it could not be true. He found none.
If protecting the seller of opium was Ednam’s real corruption, it would explain why they had never found the man-why, in fact, the seller had not turned up at the arranged place at all that fateful day. Ednam had warned him before the ambush was ever laid!
But why had Ednam, or any of his men, brought a gun? Who had they meant to shoot? Not the dealer. Then it could only be either Alexander or Lezant. Or did they fear some third person turning up, and then mistook Tyndale for him?
Neither Lezant nor the supplier would have wanted a confrontation. Had they known of it they would simply have chosen another place-or waited for a better time, even a different day.
Damn Ednam!
The first thing to do was look more closely at the exact record of the gun, or even better, to find it in the evidence of the case. An exact description of it would be necessary, its make, caliber, and so on. Then he could check back through all records to see if such a gun had ever been taken into police possession as evidence. Guns were rare in towns, especially handguns. Shotguns were common enough in the countryside. Most farmers had at least one, more likely several.
At the station he was greeted with some irritation by Whicker.
“What is it now?” he said, looking up at Tellman standing in front of him. His face was pinched and his skin had the pallor of a man who had lost too much sleep and shaved with more haste than care.
“I need to see the gun Lezant used to shoot Tyndale,” Tellman replied.
Whicker’s anger was instant. “Whatever for?” he demanded. “Damn waste of time. Haven’t you got anything useful to do? How about finding the bloody lunatic who killed three of our best men? Or is that too much for you?”
“I want to do more than catch him,” Tellman replied grimly, keeping hold of his temper with some effort. “I want a clear chain of evidence right from beginning to end. Isn’t that what you want?”
Whicker was taken aback. Obviously he had not expected a complete and slightly aggressive answer. It caught him off balance.
“Thank you,” Tellman said, as if Whicker had agreed. It was neatly done, but it gave him no comfort. He did not like being at odds with another man in the force. They should be on the same side.
The sergeant at the evidence room made heavy weather of it. He did not like men from other stations reexamining old cases. Had Tellman not outranked him, he would have questioned what he wanted it for. As it was, he moved with unnecessary deliberation while Tellman shifted from one foot to the other and finally paced the floor. He took a full half hour to report that it appeared to have been mislaid. He could not say when, or by whom, and smiled at Tellman as if that were an achievement.
Tellman felt his temper slipping. If he lost it he would have given victory to the sergeant.
“Then I’ll have to make do with second best,” he said levelly. “Look at your records and tell me when it was first logged in, who by, and connected with what crime.”
“I don’t know that I can do that, sir. Take me a long time. I got other things to do.” He looked at Tellman blandly.
“Then you’d better get on your knees, praying that it doesn’t turn up in another crime, hadn’t you!” Tellman snapped back. “Since it was last in your keeping, you’ll be the first on our list of suspects.”
The blood ebbed out of the sergeant’s face like a receding tide. “Things get lost! People take ’em out an’ don’t bring ’em back!”
“Didn’t give it away to someone, did you? Sell it, maybe?” Tellman suggested.
“Of course I didn’t!” There was now a fine sheen of sweat on the sergeant’s skin. “You can’t say that!”
“Then show me the records,” Tellman insisted. “Unless you’ve been told not to by someone? Who would that be? Ednam’s dead. Who else needs to cover it up?”
The sergeant blanched. “I’ll get what we ’ave.” Before Tellman had to argue any further, the man turned away from the counter where they had been speaking and disappeared into another room.
Tellman waited a full quarter of an hour before the sergeant came back, carrying two large ledgers in his arms. He set them down on the countertop.
“There you are, sir. You’ll find them all under the correct dates.” He clearly was not going to assist any further, so Tellman took them from him and started to search for himself. He knew the date of Tyndale’s death, so the reference was not difficult to find. The gun was logged in with an accurate description of its make, caliber, and the fact that it was empty of bullets at the time it was repossessed by the officers in charge.
Tellman made a note of the details, and then started to look backward in the inventory for any guns taken into evidence and held for any length of time. It was a tedious and very time-consuming task because the ledger was full of property of all sorts. However, although there were a large number of weapons, mostly knives or cudgels of various sorts, there were relatively few guns.
It took him almost two hours before he found another gun exactly like the one that Lezant had apparently used, the same make, the same caliber, only this one had been fully loaded. The bullets had been taken out by the sergeant when it was put away.