called to me to come and look. We stood in his garage that smelled of oil, rubber and manly competence. Arthur was seriously kitted out in dark blue mechanic’s overalls, his moon face showing distress.
‘Kate, there were only forty-eight of these motors made up to 1916, and you have this beauty. It’s a sacred trust.’
‘Well I didn’t know she was going to spring a leak.’
‘The radiator hose has gone. You’ve damaged the pistons and the big end.’
‘I thought it was topped up.’
In the dim light of the garage, I could not tell what shade of puce he turned. ‘Didn’t you notice anything amiss?’
‘Well yes, obviously, with the smoke and the rattling.’
‘Before that?’
‘Are you saying I can’t drive home?’
‘Leave her with me for a couple of days.’ He shook his head. ‘You were lucky a Jowetteer came along and towed you last night. If you’d driven any further, I dread to think what you might have done to her.’
I looked at the Jowett fondly. Sometimes that motor seems alive. I could have sworn in that moment she transferred her affections to Arthur. I half expected her to speak and warn me to expect a charge of neglect.
It seemed heartless to turn and walk away.
Fortunately, Pamela, my mother’s maid, called to me from the garage doorway, giving me an escape route.
‘Thanks, Arthur. I’ll talk to you about it later.’
I went indoors with Pamela.
‘Mrs Sugden telephoned to you, Mrs Shackleton. I wrote down exactly what she said. And your father sent a note from the office. It all happened at once when I was seeing to the kitten.’
I thanked her and picked up the two notes. Mrs Sugden’s message was from Aunt Berta, informing me that a solicitor by the name of Walter Lansbury on St Paul’s Street might be able to help. What a grand name for a shady man of the law. Well, Mr Lansbury, you can expect another visit, very soon.
Dad’s note was more cryptic, that he had sent a message to the chief inspector naming a legal person who would be worth talking to.
This was very good because it gave me a reason to speak to Dad. I picked up the telephone and was soon connected to him.
‘Dad?’
‘Katie?’
‘That legal person, does he begin with an L and end in a Y?’
‘Your Aunt Berta beat me to it?’
‘She had a start. And, Dad.’
‘Yes?’
‘May I borrow your Morris, just for a couple of days?’
‘I suppose so. But be careful.’
‘I will.’ I returned the telephone receiver to its cradle.
My mother usually sits in bed reading until ten o’clock. I had taken her an early morning cup of tea.
As I was on my way up the stairs to see her, she called, ‘Is that you on the phone, Kate? I’m coming down.’
‘It’s all right. I’ll come up.’
She has a special arrangement of pillows when she reads, and a cushion under her knees.
Smiling, she set her book aside. ‘It’s the latest Arnold Bennett, very good indeed.’
‘I must get around to it.’
‘You should. It’s about this bookseller and a woman who takes a shop opposite him, and they are both very thrifty. I don’t know whether they are going to pair up or whether it will end in tears.’
I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It was all a bit spur of the moment last night, and to do with work, that’s why I didn’t ask you to see The Pirates of Penzance.’
She sighed. ‘I didn’t like to think of you going alone. Marcus is up on an investigation isn’t he?’
‘Yes, but we haven’t got back together, not in the going out way.’
‘I thought not. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing in turning him down?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s not out of loyalty to Gerald, because I’m sure Gerald would want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.’
When Mrs Shackleton came out from seeing the chief inspector, she asked Sykes to walk up the town with her. She wanted to talk to him about something, she said, but not in the hotel. Straight away, he knew she was up to something.
Like a couple of conspirators, the two of them occupied a corner table in Schofields café.
She said, ‘Mr Lansbury on St Paul’s Street is the solicitor Deirdre Fitzpatrick has dealings with. His office is where I lost sight of her on that day.’
Jim Sykes stirred his tea, again. ‘But he has been interviewed by Sergeant Wilson.’
Mrs Shackleton had that stare-you-out look in her eye. ‘Lansbury admitted to Wilson that he spoke