Treachery at Lancaster Gate by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

Tellman’s grief. He had seen those broken bodies himself.
    “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know if he had anything to do with it. I’m telling you that we can’t rule him out as a possibility.”
    “What’s his name?” Tellman asked.
    “I’ll deal with it, for the time being.”
    Tellman froze, the color flushing up his cheeks. “You don’t trust me to tread softly with this young gentleman of yours?” His voice was strained, his jaw tight. “I’m an inspector, Commander Pitt. I’m just as capable and used to speaking to quality as you are, even if I’m not married to a lady. And maybe I appreciate the ordinary policemen, like those in the hospital, or the morgue, a bit more than you do.” He put his mug down and rose to his feet. “I answer ultimately to the police commissioner, not to their lordships in Parliament. I’ll find the man that set that bomb, whoever’s son he is.”
    Pitt was momentarily taken aback. He had not been sensitive to just how deeply Tellman had been hurt by the bombing, or, to tell the truth, to how profound his loyalty was to the force. There was an element of truth to the insinuation that Pitt’s identity had changed when he left the police and joined Special Branch. He’d had no choice, if he was to succeed in his new position.
    Pitt remained seated. “You may prefer then that I don’t tell you in future, should there be anything further to this lead. If that is the case, then I shall have to take it directly to Bradshaw. But I would rather not. He doesn’t know the dead men personally; you do.”
    Tellman looked confused. He had made something of a fool of himself, and he was now aware of it, but unwilling to step back.
    “I suppose you’d better keep me informed,” he said unhappily. “Somebody has to fight for the men. God knows, two of them are dead and more could follow.” He met Pitt’s eyes defiantly. “I’m not going to let them be murdered, blown apart, burned and crippled, then when they can’t speak for themselves, blamed for it as well.”
    Pitt hesitated only a moment. If he allowed Tellman to get away with that insult, something would be lost between them.
    “Is that what you are suggesting I am going to do, Inspector Tellman?” he asked quietly.
    Long tense seconds of silence hung in the room before Tellman answered.
    “That possibility won’t arise…sir,” he said. He gave a curt nod and walked out.
    Pitt leaned back in his chair feeling acutely miserable. He had had no choice but to inform Tellman of the general situation, because it could be part of the case. In fact, at the moment it was the only lead they had. But he had not handled it well.
    —
    H IS LAST VISITOR OF the day was completely unexpected, and did not come to Special Branch in Lisson Grove, but was waiting for Pitt when he finally arrived home at Keppel Street. He had barely got through the front door and hung his wet coat on the rack in the hall when Charlotte came out of the parlor. He knew the instant he saw her face that something was disturbing her.
    She smiled, but there was a warning in her eyes. She came forward and kissed him gently, just a moment of sweetness he would dearly like to have clung on to, but she pulled away.
    “Jack has come to see you,” she said almost under her breath. “There is something about which he is deeply concerned. I’ll leave you to talk to him in the parlor. The fire is burning up well and there is sherry, if you want to pour him a little. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And after a moment of meeting his eyes again, she turned and went down the corridor and around the short corner into the kitchen.
    Pitt opened the parlor door and felt the warmth of the familiar room close around him. It was quiet, full of pictures of the family, ornaments they had collected over the years. The picture over the mantel was a good reproduction of a Vermeer painting of a quiet harbor with sailing vessels and Dutch quayside buildings against a