Princes Gate by Mark Ellis Read Free Book Online

his sceptical brother, Charlie. Rolling these thoughts over in his mind, he leaned back in his seat as they made their way rapidly through the sparse traffic on the Mall, on up Constitution Hill to Hyde Park Corner and then through to Kensington.
    The Ambassador’s house was a lofty, imposing building within an elegant terrace of mansions facing Hyde Park. It was a short drive from the Embassy itself, which covered one side of Grosvenor Square. As they arrived at the residence, Merlin saw two men on the pavement engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument. One of the raised voices had a Welsh lilt.
    “You didn’t get it done, did you?” The older man waved his finger in front of the Welshman’s face.
    “Look, I’ll get what you want, just as I always do. It just didn’t work out this time, that’s all.”
    “But you promised me…”
    The men became aware that they had an audience.
    “Morning, gentlemen. Is there some sort of problem?”
    “No. No problem. Can I help you?” said the Welshman.
    “This is the American Ambassador’s residence, isn’t it? We’re police officers here to see Miss Edgar.”
    “Oh yes. You’re here about poor Joan. I’m Johnny Morgan, one of the Ambassador’s chauffeurs. I have been looking after Joan’s brother.”
    Bridges turned to the second man.
    “Mr Harris?”
    “Of course not. I am an embassy official and I have an urgent appointment for which I am already late.” The man turned on his heels and walked away hurriedly before hailing a passing cab.
    “Unusual accent he’s got, sir?”
    Morgan chimed in. “He’s a Boston Yankee, sir. Same as the Ambassador, Mr Kennedy.”
    Merlin followed the chauffeur up the steps.
    “I didn’t catch his name, Mr Morgan.”
    “Norton. Arthur Norton.”
    “Embassy bigwig is he?”
    “He’s an assistant to the Ambassador.”
    “Is he? So where is Mr Harris?”
    “He’s in the lobby, sir. Seems pretty cut up, not surprisingly. I think Miss Edgar is with him.”
    The three men walked through the Ambassador’s front door into a richly-furnished entrance hall. Portraits of previous Ambassadors, interspersed with landscapes or cityscapes of prominent American locations covered the walls. Large, ornate chandeliers hung down from the high ceiling. Four heavily-cushioned sofas lay to the right of the doorway. On one of these sat a prim-looking, middle-aged woman. Next to her was a young man, whose long and greasy hair hung down untidily as he leaned forward with his head in his hands. He wore a crumpled blue mackintosh which reached down to his shiny black, patent leather shoes.
    “Come on now. Let’s perk up. It may yet all be a dreadful mistake.”
    “No, it ain’t. I know it ain’t. Summin’ terrible has happened to our Joanie. I know it. She wouldn’ve missed Christmas wiv’us for all the tea in China.”
    “Now, now. We know that Joan was fine at Christmas as we saw her at work after Christmas, so Christmas has got nothing to do with it.”
    “Issa sign of sumfin’. Sign that trouble was brewing. I knows it. Not like her at all not to come home.”
    Miss Edgar rose to greet the approaching policeman. Merlin doffed the smart brown trilby his sister-in-law had given him for Christmas and made his introductions.
    “Philippa Edgar, Chief Inspector. I’m in charge of the administration of the Ambassador’s residence. This is Mr Joseph Harris, Joan’s brother. I am afraid he’s not in the best of shape.” She glared at Morgan who was hovering by the door. “Of course he would have been in a better condition had someone not decided to take him to the public house and pour several whiskies down his throat.”
    “Thought he’d be better for it, mam. He wasn’t in much different shape before the drinks as he is now.”
    “Mr Harris is clearly not much of a drinking man and you have not helped the situation.”
    Harris lurched unsteadily to his feet. “W’as appen’d to her? We told ’er not to come up to