interviewed him, so we’ll need to know all about that little tête-à-tête.”
“Right you are, Inspector. I’ll give Mr. Pramal the good news.”
“That’s more like it, Miss Dobbs,” said Caldwell. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Until then,” said Maisie, but she was too late—as usual, Caldwell had put down the receiver as soon as he had said everything he wanted to say.
“Do you have something important to report, Miss Dobbs?”
Maisie looked up—she had continued to twist the telephone cord between her fingers. “Yes, I have, Mr. Pramal. Apparently, a man has come forward to accept responsibility for the murder of both your sister and Miss Maya Patel. He gave himself up to detectives at Scotland Yard early this morning. It appears he has the skill with a gun that was required to take the life of your sister in an instant.”
Pramal’s olive skin became drawn and gray, his eyes filled with tears. It was several seconds before he could speak. “And why on earth did he do such a thing?” He thumped the desk with his closed fist. “I want to see this man, as soon as I can. And I want to see him hang.”
Maisie raised a hand. “I don’t think you’ll be at liberty to see him, Mr. Pramal. He has been cautioned and charged, so will be moved to a prison—probably Wandsworth, I would imagine, or Brixton. He will be able to see counsel, but no one else until further notice.”
“Why, Miss Dobbs? Why did he kill my beloved sister? If she had offended him, what act or words on her part could have made him take her life?” Pramal leaned forward, grief and hatred writ large in his eyes.
Maisie sighed. “He claims she was disrespectful of his wife while in his employ. Mr. Pramal, I have to tell you that I went to the man’s house, I met his wife’s nurse, and I learned that Usha had taken the liberty of administering medicines of her own making to ease the woman’s dreadful headaches. It’s no excuse, but according to his statement, he was angered beyond measure and took matters into his own hands—and much too far. Frankly, I am at a loss to understand it all.”
“Did you see the man?”
“Yes, I did, and though I had outstanding questions and wanted to see both the man and his wife again, I had yet to conclude he was the killer.”
“But you thought he could be, is that it?”
“Yes, I thought he could be. But a thought is only a gate to the path—it is not evidence. I must have evidence in my hands—or at least a stronger feeling of guilt from a person—to press forward with a suspicion that someone has committed murder.”
“You could have been wrong, though, Miss Dobbs—and it seems you were,” said Pramal, his chin jutting forward as he spoke.
Maisie took a breath to counter, but exhaled instead. Yes, of course Jesmond Martin could have murdered Usha Pramal. But if so, and if Martin Robertson was his son, as she suspected, then why did the boy alert the police to the body of Maya Patel? Unless he wanted his father caught. Unless he knew more about his father than he would have told the police.
“Mr. Pramal, in confidence, please—may I ask if you have ever heard the name Jesmond Martin?”
Pramal, so quick to answer when he had a definite response, looked at Maisie. He rubbed his chin and pressed his hands together close to his lips, as if he were about to say a prayer. Then he spoke again. “Miss Dobbs, I cannot say that I have heard this name, but you know, it seems to ring a bell.”
Maisie smiled; not a smile of joy or happiness, but of irony. “Mr. Pramal, I have come to the conclusion that, in my work, the three words that are the most frustrating to hear are that something seems to ring a bell.” She sat down, holding out her hand for Pramal to take his seat once again. Looking up towards Sandra, she saw her secretary hold up a teacup, her eyebrows raised in inquiry. “Yes, Sandra, tea would be lovely, I am sure we could all do with a cup.” She turned to Pramal. “Let’s see if we can get that bell clanging, because I want to know why there is even a hint of recognition when I mentioned his name.”
Pramal put his hand up, as if he were a schoolboy in class. “Miss Dobbs, please forgive me for asking,