Heirs of the Body by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

when his meal arrived. Mrs. Dobson had cooked for Alec’s mother before he and Daisy were married. She was well aware of the needs of a hungry policeman and the tastes of her employer. A ham omelette with fried potatoes was flanked with bread and butter, salad, and a plate of cold roast beef. Rhubarb-and-strawberry tartlets, almond biscuits, and dark, moist gingerbread completed the spread, with a pot of coffee for Alec and tea for Daisy.
    “Aaah!” breathed Alec and dug in.
    Pouring herself a cup of tea, Daisy surveyed the offerings. It would be much easier to drop a few pounds if Mrs. Dobson wasn’t so good at baking as well as accounts. She took a thin slice of gingerbread and, to make it last, started talking.
    “The letter is from a Mrs. Samuel Dalrymple in Jamaica. Her husband is a first officer in the Merchant Navy.”
    Alec swallowed a mouthful and translated: “Mate of a freighter, since the war at least. He’s not illiterate, then, if he got his mate’s papers.”
    “Illiterate? Why should he be?”
    “I just wondered why she’s writing for him.”
    “Because he’s off on a voyage, according to Tommy, and she doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”
    “Must be a tramp steamer. No wireless? A small, elderly tramp steamer.”
    “Pure speculation,” Daisy teased. Tit for tat: He had said it to her often enough.
    “Not at all. Pure deduction.”
    Daisy considered. “Oh yes, I suppose it’s reasonable.”
    “What’s worrying Pearson?”
    “Not really worrying. You see, Mrs. Samuel—Martha’s her name—wrote as soon as the advert was brought to her attention, because she wonders whether her husband is descended from Julian and Marie-Claire.”
    “Obviously.”
    “Yes, but the thing is, she was worrying that another man might be coroneted before anyone was aware of Samuel’s existence. She wrote because she didn’t dare wait for him to come home before notifying Tommy. And she asked him whether she ought to come to England right away. That’s what’s got him fussing. He doesn’t think she should travel on her own—he’s rather old-fashioned that way—and he doesn’t know what to do with her when she arrives. Given Samuel’s occupation, Tommy’s pretty sure she hasn’t got enough money for what he’d consider a suitable hotel for a lady on her own.”
    “Given Samuel’s occupation, is she a lady?”
    “Whatever she is now, she’ll be a lady if her husband turns out to be the heir presumptive. In the meantime, she must be treated as such.”
    “Why doesn’t he just tell her to stay in Jamaica and wait for Samuel’s return?”
    “He probably will. The thing is, he’d like to get his hands on whatever information she can provide, as soon as possible.”
    “Didn’t you say he’s had someone in Jamaica looking into the family history? Can’t he talk to her?”
    “That’s a good point, darling. I’ll suggest it, though I’d be surprised if Tommy missed it. Perhaps the man is good at searching records but isn’t the type who’d be any good at interviewing.”
    “Could be. We have plenty of those at the Yard.”
    “So what should he do?”
    “He could try to employ someone more appropriate—not easy at such a distance, I imagine. Or he could wait for his information until Samuel arrives. Or he could write to her asking for details, which might or might not produce useful results. Does her letter give any reason other than his name to believe her husband is a legitimate descendant of whatsisname—the black sheep?”
    “Julian. No, the letter’s very short.”
    “Well, that’s about all I have to contribute.” Alec finished off a tart, gulped the last of a second cup of coffee, and stood up. “I must be gone. Reports to be written and read before we go off in search of the creatures of the night. I’ll see you when I see you, love.”
    Daisy went out to the hall with him to see him off, then returned to the office to reread Martha Dalrymple’s letter—or rather