Page 58 of Return Ticket

“Tell me.” He sat back down, his things stacked to one side.

She carefully told him, trying to be as objective and unbiased as possible.

When she told him about the Jaguar following her, and waiting outside the building for her, then outside her flat, he leaned forward in his chair.

He knew Teddy Roe, and when she moved on to the events of the day, he smiled a little at her description of how he’d come to her rescue and eventually pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m changing your route, and it will be between you, me, and the person I switch you with, until I get to the bottom of this. Is that acceptable to you?”

She gave a nod. “I’m sorry, sir. I seem to always be getting into some kind of bother.”

“No.” He rose. “You were doing your job. And someone here made that job much more difficult.” He looked at her and she realized she was cradling her arm again. “Let me see.”

She reluctantly pulled her sleeve up, and looked down at the dark purple bruises. They were worse than she’d thought.

Mr. Greenberg was quiet, and then he bent down and pulled a camera out of a drawer. “Hold still, please.”

She waited while he took a few shots.

“You and I will go and lay a formal complaint tomorrow, but I’ll make some calls first tonight. No one hurts my people without consequences, Miss Farnsworth.”

She looked at his face and then began to back out. “Thank you, sir.”

“Wait.” Mr. Greenberg set the camera down and lifted a pen. “Did you get the license plate of the car?”

She leaned against the doorjamb. “As it happens, I did.”

chaptertwenty-three

James staredat the plaque in the church to commemorate the life of Valerie Jones, and then stepped back.

“I’m still in touch with the family, if you need an address,” the vicar said.

“That would be very helpful,” James said. “Do they live locally?”

“One borough away. They attend their usual church most of the time, but on Valerie’s birthday and at Christmas, they take part in the service here, in memory.”

“Can you recall who came to help when you found the body? Which nick they came from and so on?” James asked.

The vicar frowned. “I wouldn’t know exactly which nick. It was during the war, so it was mainly the day and night crews, clearing up. All the bobbies I knew were off fighting, and I didn’t know the ambulance crew. It was a chaotic time.”

“Even an exact date would be helpful,” Hartridge said.

“That I can give you.” The vicar moved through to the tiny office at the back, and pulled out a book. He flipped through it. “There you go.” He pointed a gnarled finger at an entry, and Hartridge bent over the tome and copied the information.

As they left, James felt the vicar’s eyes on them, and he turned and gave a final wave farewell.

“He wonders why we’re asking for this information,” Hartridge said. “He’s putting it together.”

“As long as he doesn’t tell anyone else, there’s not much I can do about that.” James agreed, though. The vicar came across as mild and welcoming, but he was nobody’s fool.

“What now?” Hartridge asked.

“We need to go back to headquarters and start looking through records, phoning people up, and generally looking back twenty years for like crimes.” James knew it wasn’t going to be easy. The war had strained resources, and he didn’t know how well the records had been maintained. “But first, we look for Mr. Teddy Roe.”

* * *

James hadn’t been round to Ruby Everett’s house for a while. He knew Gabriella visited her often, and that the widow had given Teddy Roe a place to stay at the back of her garden.

He knocked on the front door, but there was no response, so he gestured for Hartridge to follow him around the side.

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