Simon Tolkien Inspector Trave Trilogy: Orders From Berlin, The Inheritance, The King of Diamonds

‘It certainly isn’t,’ said Seaforth, laughing. ‘But that wasn’t my question. I asked you if you like this place.’

Ava forced herself to think. ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘I think I do.’ It was an understatement. She felt excited by the Corner House; by the vast throng of people; by the music and the lights. The band was playing a Vera Lynn song: ‘We’ll meet again, Don’t know where, don’t know when …’ The words seemed significant somehow, like a promise of some kind.

‘I like it too,’ said Seaforth. ‘People need to feel alive. They have a right to it, I think, particularly in wartime. If a bomb has your number on it tomorrow, then you want to make sure you live a bit today. All the West End is like this, you know – the picture palaces and the dance halls – they’re bursting at the seams since the Blitz started.’

She thought of going with Seaforth to a dance hall – feeling his arms around her waist, swinging to the rhythm of the music so fast that she could forget all about Battersea and Bertram and her father and the war. But then she shook her head, banishing the vision conjured up by her unconscious mind as she remembered her earlier resolve to stay on her guard and keep her wits about her.

Seaforth ordered for both of them. He obviously knew the place well: he didn’t even have to look at the menu. He could have his pick of pretty girls, thought Ava. He was so confident and handsome. The waitress hung on his every word, and Ava could see women turning to look at him surreptitiously from other tables. Yet he seemed interested solely in her. Why? She needed to know why.

‘You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about,’ she said.

‘Yes, I’m worried about you,’ he said, leaning towards her as if to emphasize his concern.

‘About me? I thought you wanted to talk to me about my father.’

‘Well, that’s true. It’s because of what happened to him that I’m concerned about you.’

‘What? You think I’m going to be next?’ she asked with a false laugh, trying unsuccessfully to hide her anxiety.

‘I hope not,’ he said seriously. ‘I hope I’m wrong and that you’re not in any danger.’

‘Wrong about what?’ she asked, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice.

‘About your husband.’

‘What about him?’ asked Ava, taken aback. It was the last answer she’d expected Seaforth to give. ‘I don’t understand. You don’t even know Bertram. How can you know something about him that I don’t?’

‘I talked to the police—’

‘How? Why would they talk to you?’ asked Ava, interrupting. Each answer that Seaforth gave seemed more preposterous than the last. And presumptuous too. What business did he have interfering in her family’s affairs?

‘The inspector in charge of the case – Quaid, I think his name is – called me because I used to work with your father. He wanted to check up on Albert’s background, and while he was on the phone I was able to find out a little about the investigation. I’m afraid I think that your husband is the main suspect.’

‘Why?’ asked Ava, although she thought she already knew the answer to her question.

‘Because of your father’s money. Apparently he was quite a wealthy man, and your husband is named alongside you as the main beneficiary in your father’s will. Of course you’re aware of this, but I wonder if you know that he’s heavily in debt and that he desperately needs your father’s money if he’s going to stay solvent.’

‘Yes.’ Ava nodded. ‘It doesn’t surprise me. But … well, I keep on going over it in my mind, and I just don’t think Bertram’s capable of murder.’ She swallowed hard, trying to resist the upsurge of fear that had come with the utterance of the awful word. ‘I’m not stupid,’ she went on with an effort. ‘I can see he’s the one who had the motive, but that’s not the same as saying he did it.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ agreed Seaforth. ‘I suppose the real question is how well do you know him?’

‘We’ve been married for over three years,’ said Ava curtly. She understood now why Seaforth wanted to talk to her. He was obviously going to be concerned if he thought she was in danger, but she still felt uncomfortable discussing her private life with somebody who was almost a stranger.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Seaforth, backing off. ‘I know it’s not my business, but I just want to help. Let me ask you this instead: Do you have any idea how he ran up all these debts?’

‘He said they were bad investments.’

‘But do you know that or are you just taking his word for it?’

Ava dropped her eyes, not answering.

‘Have there been any letters about the money that you’ve seen?’ he asked, pressing the question.

‘I’ve read a few,’ said Ava, colouring. She hadn’t liked steaming open Bertram’s letters, but she’d felt she had no choice. She’d needed to know what was happening in her life.

‘Good for you,’ said Seaforth. ‘Did they tell you anything?’

‘No … except that the debts were much larger than I’d suspected. Apart from the bank, they were to companies I’d never heard of.’

‘So maybe the answer is that you don’t know him that well,’ said Seaforth, giving Ava a searching look. ‘Maybe you don’t know what he’s capable of.’

‘No. Yes … I don’t know,’ said Ava. She had a habit of gnawing on her thumbnail when she was nervous. She was doing it now but stopped when she became aware of Seaforth watching her.

He drummed his fingers on the table, his brow wrinkled in thought. ‘I don’t like it, Ava,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to tell you I don’t like it. Tell me, has he done anything out of the ordinary since your father’s death?’

‘Like what?’

‘Has he tried to get you to do anything?’

‘Just go to the solicitor’s today. He spent all his time organizing the funeral, and now the will’s his new obsession. He told the solicitor that he’s going to the Probate Office first thing in the morning.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Seaforth, nodding. ‘He needs to have the will made official before he can get his hands on the money. It sounds like he’s in a race against time with his creditors. What about medicines?’ he asked. ‘You’ve been overwrought. Has he offered you sedatives or anything like that?’

‘No. Like I said, he doesn’t seem to notice me much unless it’s about something he’s organizing.’

‘Good. That’s good,’ said Seaforth, stroking his chin pensively. ‘I honestly think you’ll be safe as long as you don’t give him any reason to think that you suspect him—’

‘But I did,’ Ava broke in, sounding frightened. ‘I got angry, on the night before the funeral. I told him I knew about his debts and I said …’

‘What? What did you say?’

‘I said it was pretty convenient my father died when he did.’

‘How did he react?’

‘He swore he had nothing to do with it.’

‘And did you believe him?’

‘I didn’t know what to think. We haven’t discussed it since then.’

‘So he probably thinks it’s no longer an issue.’ Seaforth smiled, defusing the tension. And she felt herself relax in response. Live for today. Wasn’t that what Seaforth had been saying she should do earlier? Because a bomb might have her number on it tomorrow …

Seaforth left for a moment to make a telephone call and returned with a waitress bringing their food and a second glass of wine. Ava couldn’t remember when she had last drunk alcohol in the middle of the day. It went to her head, making her feel that anything was possible. And the food was wonderful. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started eating. Inside this pleasure dome, all the months of thrift and ration-book shopping seemed a distant memory. At first she tried to eat delicately, like a lady, but then she gave up on the attempt. She caught Seaforth’s eye as she reached for another slice of bread to clean her plate and saw that he was watching her with amusement. She felt annoyed for a moment, but then she laughed. No girl could be unhappy for long in a place like this, she thought – not with a handsome, clever man like Charles Seaforth for company.

But then in the bus on the way home, her doubts returned. Seaforth had confirmed the impression she’d got from Trave at Scotland Yard. The police thought Bertram had killed her father. She thought back to that moment when she had peered up through the darkness towards the shadowy figures struggling on the second-floor landing at Gloucester Mansions. Was Bertram the man with the soft voice who had pushed her father over the balustrade? Was that what he would do to her if she got in his way? She shivered, trying to control her anxiety as she got off the bus and began walking up the deserted street towards her flat. The sky had clouded over, and it was beginning to rain.

Trave walked back to Scotland Yard, puzzling over what he had seen, unprepared for the reception awaiting him on his return. Quaid exploded as soon as Trave came through the door of their shared office.