A Woman Unknown Page 0,68
making friends with the opposite sex, the opposite sex to her I mean. I am not, unfortunately. I never thought I should have to start again in that regard.’
Mr Lansbury gave a sorrowful look, accompanied by a sigh. ‘Indeed. You have my sympathy. But I may be able to help you.’
Sykes felt his shoulders stiffen. Would he meet Deirdre Fitzpatrick at some sleazy seaside hotel?
‘Does it have to be the seaside?’
‘My dear chap, I’m not asking you to swim the channel in December, I’m thinking of a night or two in Scarborough.’ Mr Lansbury smiled, waiting for his remark to lighten the proceedings and draw a response from his client.
Sykes did his best to muster a small smile. He thought, I know why you choose Scarborough. Too many adulterous liaisons in one town could begin to look suspicious. If it was to be done, let it be quickly. ‘Once I take up my appointment my time will be devoted to my work, so the sooner the better.’
The solicitor opened his diary. ‘Could you be at an appointed place on Friday evening?’
‘Yes.’
‘Excellent! By this time tomorrow, I shall send you a message. Or perhaps you would prefer to call back and see me?’
‘A message will be satisfactory. Thank you.’
That was probably the wrong answer, Sykes thought. He could have come back with a CID man and nipped this in the bud. Too late.
They shook hands.
And now Mr Lansbury would have to communicate with the lady in question.
Sykes left the building. He went to the boy who had set himself up to polish shoes at the entrance to the alley, and ignored the other boy who cycled by.
The boy began to polish Sykes’s shoes. ‘Keep your eyes open, Andy. If a messenger comes from this building, you or your pal follow him, depending whether he’s on foot or bicycle.’
‘What about the shoe cleaning stuff?’
‘If you follow on foot, ask your pal to take care of the shoe-shining. One of you must follow any messenger and make a note of where he goes.’
The boy nodded.
When his shoes were well and truly polished, Sykes gave the boy a sixpence.
A sudden thought struck Sykes. Perhaps Mr Lansbury had a whole stable of ‘other women’ ready to play the adulteress. The thought made him shudder. Surely there wouldn’t be the call for this sort of malarkey in Yorkshire. Folk had more sense than to rush to the divorce courts.
As he walked back toward the Metropole, Sykes’s elation at accomplishing his task swiftly gave way to melancholy. In the suite given over to the murder investigation, Sykes and his fellow minions occupied the room that would have been the bedroom. He undid his cravat, and ignored the raised eyebrows of the sergeant as he picked up the pen to note his visit to Mr Lansbury in the log book.
The sergeant moved the book out of reach. ‘No need for that, Mr Sykes. I believe you just made a private visit.’
Fitzpatrick’s telegram was waiting for me when I arrived home.
COME URGENTLY STOP HAVE NEWS
FITZPATRICK
I wasted no time in driving to Kirkstall. Fitzpatrick must have been looking out of the window because he opened the door on my first knock.
The sight of him shocked me; his face was grey with grief, hair uncombed. His left foot was bandaged to three times its normal size. He supported himself with one crutch, and a hand on the wall. Hobbling aside, he moved from the door to make room for me to step inside.
‘I came as soon as I got your message.’
He took hold of a second crutch, propelled himself across the room and lowered himself gingerly into a chair, waving a crutch at the opposite chair.
‘I’ve not much experience of sending telegrams. That “stop” was unnecessary. You would have understood if I’d said, Come urgently have news.’
‘Yes.’
He nodded, as if he had satisfied himself on an important point. ‘They charge by the word.’
I sat down. ‘What have you done to your foot?’
‘I’m no good any more. I can’t hold myself together.’
‘What happened?’
‘I was tidying at work. I dropped a case of type on my foot. I do nothing right. Had to be helped to the dispensary. It’s my concentration. I’ve lost it.’
‘That’s terrible. As if you don’t have enough to worry about.’
In spite of his injury, the room was immaculate. A low fire burned in the grate. Holy figures gazed from their framed position on the wall, looking with compassion at Fitzpatrick and wisely ignoring me.
I took his telegram from my