The Corpse of St James's Read Online Free PDF Page B

quite capable.’
    â€˜He’s very good. The best there is, saving your presence, sir.’ He nodded to Alan.
    â€˜Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jonathan, we’re long past the “sir” stage. What’s got you going all formal on us?’
    â€˜Sorry, s— Alan. It’s been rather an unsettling day.’
    I looked at him more closely. His face was a bit pale, and he slumped in his wheelchair. ‘It has,’ I agreed, ‘and you’re tired to death. Alan, let’s feed this man and send him home. He’s had enough for one day.’
    I was ready for collapse, myself. Once we’d had our food and sent Jonathan on his way, in a taxi Alan insisted on paying for, we went wearily back up to our luxurious room, and at last I could take off my shoes. ‘Alan, I’m worried about that boy,’ I said, blissfully stretching my toes.
    â€˜Hardly a boy. He’s thirty-two, I believe.’
    â€˜Oh, one foot in the grave, I see. No, from where I sit, he’s a boy, and he’s in a bad state.’
    â€˜The pain, you mean? Or his financial situation?’
    â€˜All of that,’ I said with a frown, ‘but a lot more, as well. He talked to me while you were off getting the drinks. He’s extremely depressed; thinks he’s washed up, useless. That’s really why I was so intrusive about sticking around to see the body. I thought he’d show some enthusiasm at being included in an investigation again. The old fire horse would perk up at the sound of the bell. He didn’t, though, once his first interest waned.’
    â€˜No, he was remarkably quiet the rest of the afternoon. Ah, well, he was tired.’
    â€˜As am I. Oh, Lord, it’s way too early to go to bed, and too late to take a nap.’
    â€˜It is never,’ said Alan, removing his tie, ‘too late for a nap.’
    It was, though. I slept far too long, and although Alan and I had our supper at a pub, with more beer than I usually allow myself, I had a very hard time getting to sleep. I kept thinking about that poor girl under the bush. Who was she? Why had she dressed that way, in those outlandish shoes and so much make-up? Was she a tart, as Chief Superintendent Carstairs had suggested? No mother, I thought, would have wanted to let the girl go out looking like that, although I knew mothers sometimes had little influence over girls that age. Not for the first time, I realized that my childless state had some compensations.
    Perhaps she’d run away from home? If so, it had been recently. She had seemed healthy and well nourished, and her clothes had been clean when she’d put them on.
    Had she been raped? It seemed likely, given the way she was found. But a royal park, even at night, seemed an odd place for an assault. Surely they were patrolled? But she had been in an unfrequented, indeed a forbidden area. And why was that gate unlocked, the camera vandalized?
    The police will know, I told myself, turning over and punching the pillow for the tenth time. The police will do their job. It’s none of your business.
    Alan grunted, almost as if agreeing in his sleep.
    I got up to go to the bathroom, an all too frequent necessity at my age. All that beer didn’t help. I drank a glass of water to deal with the thirst that comes after too much alcohol, and crept back into my comfortable bed.
    But how are they going to begin, since they don’t know who she is? London is an enormous city, and a haven for those who want to lose themselves. Though that isn’t so easy nowadays, I thought, turning over again. Computers, email, cell phones, all those other ‘hand-held electronic devices’ the airlines are so fond of telling you not to use – everything leaves a trail. People are easy to trace. If she ran away from home, somebody will have reported her missing. They’ll find out who she was. Leave it to them, Dorothy. Leave it.
    I turned over once more,