It was clear Durant had some consideration of the future, because he was on his way to deposit funds at another bank—the most efficient means of investment, as he’d informed a colleague. Or could that have just been his training? Perhaps it was second nature for him to move money around as if he were playing a tactical game.
Maisie approached the front door of the building and was poised to ring the bell to summon the caretaker when it was drawn back and a young man emerged, almost bumping into Maisie.
“Oh, Miss Dobbs. What a surprise to see you here.” The man paused. “Well, perhaps not, considering the work you’re undertaking for Dr. Thomas and our department.”
“It’s Mr. Lambert, isn’t it?” Maisie held out her hand, in part to watch as Lambert passed a clutch of documents from one hand to the other, enabling him to take her hand. “And I am surprised to see you here, but by the same token, perhaps not, in the circumstances.”
The young man met Maisie’s eyes. “I had to find some paperwork with regard to Mr. Durant’s period of residence here in Britain, for consular purposes. The police gave permission, and I was provided with a key, which has to go back to the police station.” He paused. “I would have thought you should’ve been given leave to inspect the flat, all things considered.” He consulted his watch. “Shall I show you up? I have time.”
“Thank you—yes, I would appreciate seeing where Mr. Durant lived.”
Lambert led the way to the dead man’s flat, and opened the door with a key on a fob with a silver lion’s head.
“Were those the keys found on the deceased?” asked Maisie.
Lambert nodded. “Yes. They were at Scotland Yard, and I had to present myself there to receive them. A Sergeant Able helped me.”
“Oh yes, I know him. Tell me, do you know if there was a guard on the flat at any point following Mr. Durant’s death?”
“I believe there was for a couple of days while the Murder Squad men did their work, but not since.”
Lambert left the keys on the stand in the hall. It was made of dark wood and comprised a mirror, several hooks for hats, and others at the side for coats. Two umbrellas were poked through a hole in the center of the stand, with a porcelain bowl on a ledge underneath to catch water, should the umbrella have been brought in wet. Another series of smaller hooks underneath the mirror held a few keys and a clothes brush. Maisie imagined Durant leaving for his job in the City every morning, perhaps checking his tie and brushing off his jacket before leaving the house, or if it was winter, putting on his heavy coat and gloves, taking up his keys, and then opening the door to be on his way. She wondered if his wife used the brush, if she picked specks of lint from his shoulders and drew him towards her for a kiss before seeing him off for his day of work.
The flat was more or less as Maisie imagined it, though the kitchen was larger and the dining room less spacious. If one of the bedrooms had been decorated for a new baby, Maisie could not tell which one it was. There was nothing in the flat to indicate that it was the home of anyone other than a man without a wife, though perhaps one who liked a few feminine touches.
In the corner of the dining room a roll-top desk had been left open.
“Was that open when you came in, Mr. Lambert?” asked Maisie.
“Yes, it was—fortunately, because I didn’t have a key for it, and the identification documents and passport were in there.”
“I’m surprised the police didn’t take them,” said Maisie.
Lambert shrugged. “I’m not, and neither is Dr. Thomas. The reason she asked for your assistance is because Scotland Yard have seemed less than willing to work a bit harder on these two cases.”
“In their defense, Mr. Lambert, they are somewhat overwhelmed at the present time, and it is a difficult case. Not much in the way of clues.” She stepped towards the desk. “I’ll just have a quick look here.”
Maisie leafed through a series of bills, some receipts, and other items of little interest. A ledger kept in a fine hand offered a precise accounting of household finances and notes on economies and the odd purchase considered extravagant. A small pile of correspondence tied with string revealed cards and letters of condolence. A folder in the top drawer contained various notes in connection with the dead man’s deceased wife, and a death certificate confirming her passing was due to an embolism, which also led to the death of the unborn child. Details of the funeral revealed that the woman had been cremated, though there were no notes indicating a final resting place for the ashes. The last item in the folder was a photograph of a woman wearing walking clothes—a pair of long shorts, a short-sleeved blouse, and strong leather lace-up boots. With one hand she was holding back fair, windswept hair, and in the other she held her knapsack. She was standing at the edge of a field, with woods to her left—Maisie could clearly see ridges in the field, carved by a plow. In the background, one had the impression of a hillside.