A Traitor to Memory

—with an address that put her close to East Dulwich.

“Havers will handle that interview,” Lynley said. He went on to report that the unidentified male caller on the answer machine who'd angrily demanded that Mrs. Davies pick up the phone and talk to him was one Raphael Robson, whose address in Gospel Oak put him closer to the scene of the murder than anyone else, other than J. W. Pitchley, of course. “I'll take on Robson next,” Lynley went on, and he added to Nkata, “I'd like you there as well,” as if already knowing that he would need to bolster Nkata's faltering sense of competence.

Nkata said, “Right,” as Lynley went on to explain that the BT records had also confirmed Richard Davies' story of phone calls taken from and made to his former wife. They'd begun in early August, round the time their son had had his problem at Wigmore Hall and they'd continued up to the morning before Eugenie's death, when Davies had made a brief call to her. There were plenty of calls from Staines as well, Lynley told him. So both men's stories were being corroborated by the evidence they had at hand.

“A word, you three?” came from the doorway upon the conclusion of Lynley's remarks. They swung round to see that DCI Leach had returned to the incident room, and he had a scrap of paper in his hand that he gestured with as he said, “In my office, if you will,” after which he vanished, expecting them to follow.

“Where've you got to tracing the kid Wolff had while she was in prison?” Leach asked Barbara Havers when they joined him.

Barbara said, “I got side-tracked onto Pitchley once I stopped for his photo yesterday. I'm onto that today. But nothing's telling us that Katja Wolff even wants to know where the kid ended up, sir. If she wanted to find him, the first person she would've talked to is the nun. Which she hasn't done.”

Leach made a dismissive noise in his throat. “Check it out, all the same.”

“Right,” Barbara said. “D'you want it before or after I track down Lynn Davies?”

“Before. After. Just do it, Constable,” Leach said irritably. “We've had a report from across the river. Forensic have analysed the paint chips they found on the body.”

“And?” Lynley asked.

“We're going to have to adjust our thinking. SO7 says the paint shows cellulose mixed with thinners to water it down. That doesn't match up with anything that's been used on cars for at least forty years. They're telling us the chips came from something old. Think nineteen-fifties at the latest, they're saying.”

“Nineteen-fifties?” Barbara asked incredulously.

“That explains why last night's witness thought of a limousine,” Lynley said. “Cars were big in the fifties. Jaguars. Rolls-Royces. Bentleys were enormous.”

“So someone ran her down in his classic auto?” Barbara Havers asked. “Now, that's desperation.”

“Could be a taxi,” Nkata pointed out. “Taxi out of use, got sold to someone who fixed it up and uses it now for his regular motor.”

“Taxi, classic car, or golden chariot,” Barbara said, “everyone we've got under the microscope's out of the running.”

“Unless one of them borrowed a car,” Lynley noted.

“We can't discount that possibility,” Leach concurred.

“Are we back to square one, then?” Barbara asked.

“I'll get someone to start checking it out. That and repair shops catering for old cars. Although we can't expect much body damage on something manufactured in the fifties. Cars were like tanks then.”

“But they had chrome bumpers,” Nkata said, “massive chrome bumpers that could've got mashed.”

“So we'll need to check out old parts shops as well.” Leach made a note. “It's easier to replace than to repair, especially if you know the cops are looking.” He phoned into the incident room and allocated that assignment out, after which he rang off and said to Lynley, “It still could be a blind coincidence.”

Lynley said, “Do you think that, sir?” in a measured tone that told Nkata the DI was looking for something beneath whatever reply the DCI might give.

“I'd like to. But I do see how it puts one in blinkers: thinking what we want to think in this situation.” He gazed at his telephone as if willing it to ring. The others said nothing. Finally, he murmured, “He's a good man. He may have stepped wrong now and then, but which of us hasn't? Stepping wrong doesn't make him less of what he is.” He looked at Lynley, and they seemed to communicate something that Nkata couldn't understand. Then he said, “Get on with it, you lot,” and they left him.

Outside, Barbara Havers spoke to Lynley. “He knows, Inspector.”

Nkata said, “Knows what? Who?”

Barbara said, “Leach. He knows Webberly's got a connection with the Davies woman.”

“'Course he knows it. They worked on that old case together. Nothing new there. And we already knew it as well.”