A Woman Unknown Page 0,66

to a woman answering Deirdre Fitzpatrick’s description.’

‘Yes, but that was weeks ago! He said she came to see him to enquire about a separation from her husband. It had gone no further than a brief interview. He made a few notes but when she did not return, he disposed of them.’

‘He is lying because what he has done could see him in hot water. He made the arrangement. Now he is afraid.’

Sykes sipped his tea. What did she have in mind? Well he had no intention of asking. Let her come out with it.

She did.

‘This is where you come in, Mr Sykes. I want you to visit Mr Lansbury, in the guise of a husband seeking a divorce. Wave money at him. Flush him out. He may be our only link to Deirdre Fitzpatrick.’

Sykes felt himself being manoeuvred into a corner. ‘I’m acting as a special constable. I can’t go chasing about off my own bat.’

‘Marcus agrees with me. You could do it. Not as a special constable.’

‘But I’m sworn in.’

‘Then you can be sworn out for as long as it takes.’

This was not fair. Sykes had wondered what Mrs Shackleton and the chief had been talking about so furtively. He might have known that there was something not quite pukka, and that the dirty work would fall to him. He waited, not wanting to encourage her.

‘Listen, Mr Sykes, Wilson told Marcus that the solicitor seemed afraid. That could be because he is lying, or he may be being blackmailed. There is more going on than we have found out. We have to use any means to get to the bottom of this. Runcie is dead. Diamond is dead. Who will be next? Deirdre Fitzpatrick could prove most inconvenient to someone, and we don’t know who.’

Sykes did not like the ‘we’ in the ‘We have to use any means’. He would still have to live here when the Scotland Yard men hightailed it back to London.

‘Why me?’

‘Because you will be good. You will be convincing.’

There was no way out. Sykes took a gulp of tea. ‘What would I have to do?’

‘We’ll come up with a plausible story. You must persuade Lansbury to arrange a co-respondent for you.’

‘You mean Deirdre Fitzpatrick?’

‘It doesn’t matter whether it is her or not. If Lansbury does it, we’ll know he’s lying. If it is her, then perhaps we can start to make some headway. She wouldn’t have flown without reason, without leaving some trace.’

Sykes knew when he was outnumbered. ‘All right. It looks as if you’ve volunteered me. I’ll do my best.’

Mrs Shackleton turned to practicalities, what his story would be, how he would dress. ‘Lansbury won’t make such arrangements for nothing. You’ll need money.’

She had money, in a brown envelope. Sykes looked at it. He knew that it came from a Scotland Yard petty cash fund. No doubt the numbers on the notes had been recorded.

‘Lansbury will smell a rat, with me turning up so soon after Wilson interviewed him.’

‘No. That’s exactly why we have to make a move soon. He won’t expect it.’

‘Why am I going to him and not to some other solicitor? He’ll ask how I got to know about him.’

‘He was recommended to you before, by a gentleman on the Chamber of Commerce committee, Mr Gledhill, chairman of Leodis Insurance Company.’

‘What if he checks with Mr Gledhill?’

‘Mr Gledhill spends every August on Lake Garda.’

‘It’s September.’

‘He travels slowly.’

She had an answer for everything.

*

The dapper, bespectacled man who climbed the stairs to Lansbury’s solicitor’s office carried a silver-topped cane. He wore grey flannels, a flamboyant plum waistcoat, blazer, and cravat. Sykes almost had second thoughts about the cravat. Best not overdo it. But then, a man who did not overdo it would never contemplate allowing his wife to divorce him.

Sykes had once known a man called Paul Sheridan who was a devil of a man for the ladies, and that was the name he assumed.

Mr Lansbury, a diminutive man whose bald pate gave off a healthy glow, rose to shake Sykes’s hand, and to introduce himself. ‘Please be seated, Mr Sheridan.’

He indicated a straight-back chair, its ample green leather upholstery surrounded by brass tacks. Sykes sat down. His mouth felt dry.

‘Now what can we do for you?’ Lansbury smiled pleasantly in his best putting-the-client-at-ease manner.

Sykes cleared his throat.

‘Would you like a glass of water?’ Lansbury asked.

‘No, no it’s all right.’ Sykes took a deep breath. ‘I’m very sorry to say that my wife and I have come to a parting of the