Page 149 of Crocodile Tears

He handed Mahmoud a fully loaded Inquisitus cash card and turned up his collar against the thin sheen of rain that was starting to fall.

“I’ll ask around. No promises, though,” Mahmoud said, pocketing the card. “This is not one of the easiest jobs you’ve ever given me, Inspector Indiehunter.”

“Raine. My name is Investigator Raine.”

“I know – I just like winding you up.” Mahmoud gave him a lopsided grin and then disappeared into the misty drizzle.

Josiah didn’t hold out much hope that Mahmoud would be successful, but he was more optimistic about the next focus of his investigation. He wasn’t sure if that was because he genuinely thought Charles Lytton was a suspect, or if he relished the opportunity to find out more about Alexander – maybe both.

He didn’t call ahead to warn Charles that he was on his way. He risked a wasted journey, but he wanted the element of surprise. He was in luck, though; he recognised Charles’s duck from the news report earlier, parked on the front drive of the old country house where he lived.

The press was gathered at the end of the drive; several camera flashes went off as he pulled up in front of them.

Two burly security guards on the gate had clearly been hired to keep the media away from the house in order to avoid a repeat of the previous day, when Charles had been waylaid. There was a shocked silence as Josiah presented his ID, and then the guards waved him up to the house.

He was expecting a liveried IS to open the front door, but instead Charles Lytton greeted him in person, standing, although holding on to a walker.

“Come in, come in. Sorry about all the clowns outside,” he said cheerily. “What a business this is.”

“You obviously know why I’m here,” Josiah said, studying the erstwhile national hero.

Charles had given up competitive rowing a few years ago, and since then his burly physique had turned to fat. His blond-brown hair was thinning on top, his former good looks having faded into a genteel homeliness. His smile was still charming, though, with a sunny quality that was instantly disarming.

“Yes… well, I mean, not why you’re here precisely, but obviously it’s to do with my brother. How is he?” Charles asked anxiously. “I saw you with him on the news. Is he okay? How is he holding up?”

“He’s fine, as far as I can tell.” Josiah gave a tight smile. “He’s being treated well.”

“He didn’t do this,” Charles said firmly. “He didn’t kill that poor man.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He couldn’t. It’s not in his nature.”

Josiah was delighted to find someone with a clear idea of Alexander’s character, as it had eluded everybody else he’d spoken to.

“I have some more questions for you, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, of course. This way… the drawing room is warmest – we’ve had some damp problems, and the other rooms are on the chilly side.”

He walked stiffly, his gait awkward, and he had to hold on to his walker for assistance. He wasn’t a promising candidate for a murder requiring both the element of surprise and the need for a quick getaway.

Josiah followed him into a big room that had a shabby, neglected appearance and was badly in need of redecoration.

“Ignore my father – he’s taking his usual after-lunch nap.”

Charles nodded in the direction of an armchair in front of a large bay window, where a grey-haired man sat, his knees covered by a blanket and his eyes closed, snoring softly. He looked old and fragile, but Josiah could see a faded remnant of a once handsome man in his features.

“He’s had a couple of strokes, and he sleeps a lot now. He’s perfectly compos mentis and all that, but he needs a stick to walk and can’t go far without having to sit down. I’ve told him he should borrow one of my old wheelchairs, but he refuses – he’s a stubborn old bugger. I haven’t told him about this business with Alex, yet. I was hoping it would blow over. It’s all over the news, of course, so I suppose he’ll find out before long. Take a seat, please.” Charles waved his hand at a threadbare sofa.

“Do you want a cup of tea or coffee? We don’t have any servants these days, but I can make you something.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Charles sank down on the sofa with a deep sigh. “Ah, it’s good to sit.”

“I must say, I’m surprised to see you walking. You were in a wheelchair until fairly recently, I believe,” Josiah said.

“Yes!” Charles beamed. “It’s been a long journey, but I’m getting a little better all the time. I still need the wheelchair a lot of the time, to be honest, but I walk where I can, to build up my muscle tone. I wanted to be a little further along before announcing it to the press, but I suppose it’s all out in the open now with them camped outside.” He gave a little laugh, as if that didn’t bother him much.

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