Murder on the Serpentine

by Anne Perry

  Dudley’s body stiffened. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving himself time to think, then led the way into his office and indicated Pitt was to sit while he himself took his seat behind his desk.

  “What is it exactly that you wish to know? There is certain information I may not be able to share.”

  “If you know it, Mr. Dudley, you can share it,” Pitt said carefully, not changing the quiet tone of his voice in the slightest. He knew what Dudley’s vulnerability was, and he hated using it. But he could not imagine facing the mother of some soldier killed in a new war in Africa and telling her he had been squeamish over pressing a man in the Foreign Office, a man whose son was a cheat, of whom he was bitterly ashamed.

  Dudley looked at him with distaste. “What is it you think I can help you with? You are hunting some demon Irishmen, I suppose.”

  “No, Mr. Dudley. I am concerned at the moment with the thought of another war against the Boers in Africa, and their being supplied with the very best of new German weapons.”

  “Oh God!” Dudley was startled out of his resentment. Now he looked drained of emotion and so weary, there seemed to be no energy left in him. “I don’t know whether there’s going to be another war or not. Depends on whether Kruger blinks, I suppose. Or Milner backs down a bit. But that’s not likely, from what I hear of him. A winner, always a winner. Probably expects to be governor of South Africa; next step, prime minister.”

  “He has many admirers,” Pitt pointed out.

  Dudley’s face filled with distaste. “Don’t you know something nasty about him? That’s where a little…leverage…would do some good.”

  “So there could well be war?” Pitt asked.

  “My best guess, yes, and probably by Christmas. Now, what in hell is this about German guns?”

  “Nothing yet. I need to know how often Alan Kendrick went to Germany with the Prince of Wales, and on which dates, and anything else you can tell me about those visits. You might know the names of some discreet courtiers, friends, servants I can speak to. And I need it immediately.”

  Dudley stared at him, his face grim. “What, exactly, is it that you suspect?”

  Pitt must make the decision instantly. Narraway had left enough information about Dudley to embarrass him profoundly. Had he any connection with Kendrick, and would it outweigh his own standing?

  “I suspect that Kendrick is setting up an arms deal with the Mauser company to supply guns to the Boers, should there be another war. And with the possibility that the kaiser is not only willing but actually able to carry out his Weltpolitik—a larger navy, the acquisition of major stakes in the lands in Africa, and more foreign territories in general—then an alliance with a vastly wealthy and individual Boer nation in South Africa is no longer unlikely.” That was far ahead of where he was, and certainly nothing he could prove. Still, it was the worst possibility.

  “God Almighty!” Dudley swore vehemently. “You’ve got to stop him! And using the Prince of Wales’s connections to do it! Right under the man’s nose. How can we prevent it? It would be tantamount to involving the next king in treason against his own Crown! Are you certain?”

  “No,” Pitt said sharply. “But I think John Halberd may have known more. I want to know if it is as bad as it looks. And if it is, I must stop it…or at least make certain Kendrick is stopped. Now, don’t make us waste any more time in arguing it. Help me find out all I can about every visit the prince made when he took Kendrick along with him.”

  Dudley’s whole manner had changed. He was as tense as an overwound spring, but his determination filled every part of him, his movements as he stood up like an athlete ready to sprint. He was going to be a good friend to Pitt in the future, or a bad enemy.

  “You can’t help,” he said as Pitt also rose to his feet. “I’ll work at it all night and have everything ready for you tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll see whoever I have to, even if I get him out of a dinner party, the opera, or someone’s bed!”

  “I will be here at ten,” Pitt said with considerable appreciation.

  Outside he felt a wave of relief so intense it was like the ceasing of a physical pain. Would he have used Narraway’s information to force Dudley, if he had refused? He would have hated it. It was personal and acutely embarrassing, and even though it was long in the past, it still had the power to injure deeply. In fact, it could put a stop to a glittering career, not to mention the possible damage to Dudley’s personal life.

  He thought of Daniel and the accusation he had told his parents about a few days previous, that he had cheated on an exam at school. Pitt had believed Daniel’s innocence without question and admired the boy’s determination not to sneak on the real culprit. Pitt hoped the matter had blown over, and yet the injustice of the false accusation still festered. Had Dudley also believed his son? What pressure had there been, what loyalties tested, what peer approval or damnation? Did anybody leaping to judgment even think of these things?

  Tomorrow he must speak to Daniel and make sure this stain did not mar his future and arise again sometime when it was too late to prove his innocence. How naïve Pitt had been to believe it would be forgotten!

  As he walked along the street looking for a cab, he wondered again if he would ever have carried out his threat against Dudley, and if he had, what he would have thought of himself afterward. Would he have taken responsibility for the damage, the pain, the loss of Dudley’s service and skills? And the loss to himself! Perhaps the ruin of his son! What would Charlotte think of him for it? When Daniel was old enough to find out, would he admire Pitt for it, or despise him? Would he perhaps even be afraid of him and not trust him again? He didn’t know which was worse. If Daniel admired him, he could take it as permission to do the same, to gain what he wanted by manipulation, threat, emotional blackmail. He might do it not when it was the only way, but when it was simply the easiest.

  The thought of any of these eventualities made his stomach clench with misery.

  But if no threat were ever carried out, how long before threats stopped working? A paper tiger that frightened no one; Pitt would become a joke. What defense was a soldier who could not bring himself to fire his weapon?

  It was time to accept the responsibility.

  He was back at Dudley’s office the next morning at ten o’clock exactly, and the moment he entered he knew that the news was grave. Dudley stood facing the door, his back to the window, the sunlight in a pool around him. There were two sheets of paper on the desk, covered in handwriting.

  Pitt closed the door behind him.

  “I’m afraid it is as bad as you thought,” Dudley said. He looked tired, as if he had been up all night. Even his valet’s best efforts had still left him looking haggard. “Kendrick has been to Germany five times, three of them this summer. The latest without the prince. It seems he has established himself well enough not to need royal backing anymore. I imagine you know that the Mauser M93 is one of the best rifles in the world, if not the best. At least equal to the Enfield. I can’t trace any connection to the Boers, but I did make sure that he’s not doing deals on behalf of the British Army. Not that I thought he was, but I had to be certain.”

  “Yes, of course you did,” Pitt agreed, simply to fill the momentary silence, and to acknowledge that he was listening and understood. He had been hoping he was wrong. That perhaps Kendrick’s trips involved a romantic affair, or even some sport he was following, not legal in England, although Pitt could not think what it would be.

  “I tried to see if I could find any indication of Halberd following the same line of inquiry as I have,” Dudley went on. “Sorry, but I couldn’t prove it either way. If he asked anyone, they are not speaking of it.” His smile was sad and a little bitter. “Perhaps it was someone else who could not afford to refuse an answer. Halberd seemed to know almost everything…” He did not finish the train of thought; they both knew what it would be.

  Dudley glanced at the papers on the desk.

  “That�
�s all I know, and this is the only copy. I wrote down the details, and whether they were proved to have happened, or only possibilities. Dates and times, who was there, and so on. For God’s sake, Pitt, do whatever you must to stop this Kendrick. Find something to silence him, and use it!”

  “I should have asked you: Did Halberd go to Germany, that you know?”

  “Yes, about two weeks before he died. I assume he was murdered?” There was an edge of distress in Dudley’s voice, even fear.

  “Yes. Although I can’t yet prove by whom. It may have been Kendrick, but if so, we have his wife’s word that he was at home, and I daresay that of his servants also. But beyond that, I can’t imagine that Halberd would be caught unawares by him. If he planned to meet with him, it wouldn’t be alone at night in a rowing boat on the Serpentine.”

  “Then he was lured there by someone else,” Dudley concluded. “Don’t try to persuade me he had another lethal enemy who just happened to do Kendrick’s work for him,” he added bitterly. “Putting him away for murder would be ideal.”

  “I’d still like to do that,” Pitt replied vehemently. “But I can’t afford to rest on that hope.”

  “We can’t afford to rest at all,” Dudley answered. “I’d be obliged if you would keep me up to date, as much as you can.”

  “I will,” Pitt replied.

  “We haven’t got very long,” Dudley warned. “The situation in South Africa is getting worse all the time. We may avoid war, but we can’t trust that. It’s damned unlikely.”

  Pitt knew he was right. He collected the notes Dudley had written for him, glanced at them, and then put them in his inside pocket, thanked Dudley again and left.

  —

  THAT EVENING PITT FINALLY made his appointment to see Daniel’s schoolmaster. Perhaps it was the appalling vulnerability Pitt had seen on Dudley’s face that had made him act. He was dreading it, having trouble preparing what he was going to say.

  He had met Dr. Needham before, at school prize giving, but it had been a formal affair, agreeable but impersonal. The school was excellent, the best Pitt could afford, but he was acutely aware as he stood in the oak-paneled hallway with its portraits of past headmasters that most of the boys here were accustomed to wealth and its privileges. There was a part of him that still resented it, recalling too vividly how poor he had been at Daniel’s age.

  A boy of about sixteen came to conduct him to Needham’s office, opening the door for him and then closing it behind him.

  Needham was a lean, gray-haired man with a keen face, looking like a scholar rather than a sportsman. The walls were lined with bookcases, no trophies, no team photographs.

  Needham rose to his feet and offered his hand. “Good evening…Commander Pitt, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Good evening, Dr. Needham,” Pitt replied with a slight nod, shaking the man’s hand.

  Needham waved to the chair on Pitt’s side of the desk and resumed his own seat. “What can I do for you? I am happy to say that Daniel is progressing very well. I understand his desire to change from Latin to German, and I have your letter of approval.”

  Pitt smiled briefly. “He seems to have thought it through, and I couldn’t disagree.”

  Needham waited, interest in his face.

  Pitt swallowed hard. He must not waste the man’s time, and yet he had to explain why he wished the favor of further investigation into a matter he had tacitly agreed was closed. He must make no excuses. Honesty was the only course with any dignity, for any of them.

  “Are you aware of my profession, Dr. Needham?” he began.

  “Daniel has said very little,” Needham replied. “I gather it has to do with police work at a very high level.” He looked puzzled.

  Pitt filled the silence before it could become obvious. “Special Branch. I come across a great deal of information about people that is confidential…”

  Needham frowned and his expression changed very slightly, but he did not interrupt.

  Pitt could feel the heat in his face and knew he was blushing. Did Needham imagine he was going to attempt some sort of pressure, even blackmail? His mouth was dry and his heart beating too fast at the thought. He must be quick, and plain. He did not avoid Needham’s solemn gray eyes.

  “I have seen good men ruined by lying about an early mistake out of fear, and it being revealed at a time that destroyed them.”

  Needham still said nothing, but his expression grew darker. Pitt must get to the point. No more preamble.

  “Daniel was accused of cheating on an exam recently. He told me he had not done it, but honor to the friendship of a classmate prevented him from telling the master that it was his friend who had cheated, not him. I believed him and applauded his desire not to be seen as one who told on others. I understand the code of loyalty, and the price of breaking it.”

  Needham pursed his lips and nodded very slightly.

  “Since that occurred, I have seen a man I respect, in high office, manipulated into doing something he did not wish to, under threat of his own son being exposed and his career ruined, over just such an incident.”

  “I see. And you wish me to expunge this reference from your son’s records?”

  “No, Dr. Needham. I would like you to have the matter investigated, and blame put on whichever boy is at fault. And if that cannot be determined fairly, then the matter not to be recorded at all.” He waited. He must not let nervousness make him talk too much. He had seen it so often in others, and had read it easily.

  “That seems reasonable,” Needham agreed cautiously. “I will ask Mr. Foster to reconsider the matter.”

  “And if he is unwilling to?” Pitt asked.

  Needham smiled. “If I ask one of my masters to do something, Commander Pitt, it is very unlikely indeed that he will fail. If the head of Special Branch gives you a clear directive, do you not…Oh.” His smile widened. “Your title of ‘commander’ means that you are the head of Special Branch! How foolish of me not to have recognized that. You are unusually modest, a rare quality.”

  “Thank you,” Pitt said as graciously as he could. He was overwhelmingly relieved. And he was also embarrassed. This was a man he respected, and he would dearly like to be respected by him in return. That had nothing to do with Daniel’s future.

  He rose to his feet, eager to leave.

  Needham stood also. “I shall write to you as to the outcome,” he promised. “I cannot speak for the conclusion, but I believe it will not be unsatisfactory.” He met Pitt’s eye for a moment, then offered his hand again.

  —

  THE FOLLOWING DAY PITT was with Jack in the same gentlemen’s club as before, sitting in the smoking room after having had a good lunch. It was an excellent place to meet unobtrusively, and the chances were good of hearing a little news—and more than that, of seeing which people had business together, who was looking for whom, and whom they might be avoiding.

  Pitt enjoyed Jack’s company. He was agreeable and had a quiet, dry wit. Indeed, he had lived by his charm before marrying Emily. It had served him well, because it was quite genuine. They were talking quietly now about family, both watching men coming and going, glances, a moment’s exchange, an avoidance here and there.

  “Good afternoon, Pitt. Don’t see you here very often.” Pitt knew who it was before he looked up; the intonation of the voice was familiar.

  “Good afternoon, Kendrick,” he replied, deliberately leaving off the “Mr.,” as Kendrick had with him.

  “May I offer you a drink?” Kendrick asked, glancing at Jack also. “I know your taste, Radley. Single malt for you, Pitt?”

  Pitt did not want to accept anything from Kendrick, and he did not particularly care for whisky, especially at this time of day. But this was nothing to do with likes or dislikes. He looked up at Kendrick. “Thank you, that would be very nice.”

  Kendrick sat down in the third chair and raised his hand for the steward, who was at his elbow almost immediately. He gave the order, then leaned back and cross
ed his legs.

  “Pretty thankless task you have,” he remarked to Pitt. “Any further forward with it?”

  Pitt wanted to tell him that it was none of his concern, but it would sound offensive and would be taken as a clear indication that Pitt was floundering. This was the man who was trying to arrange the sale of the best rifles in the world to Britain’s potential enemies. Half the men in this room would have relatives who could end up being killed by them! And worse than that, Kendrick was using the future king to do it. It would take a far cleverer game to beat him than self-defensive denial.

  “At times,” Pitt responded. “It can be slow going. But then there are sudden breakthroughs, and something becomes clear. Most secrets are a waste of time, but information does turn up in the oddest places.”

  Kendrick smiled. “Such as here?” he asked, looking around at the warm, deeply comfortable room with its soft armchairs, its oak and marble fireplaces, and carpets thick enough to muffle any footsteps. There was amusement in his voice, and only the slightest touch of irony.

  “Especially here,” Pitt answered, keeping exactly the same polite expression on his face.

  “You think someone here might know who Halberd was…entertaining himself with? I assure you they are not in the least likely to admit it. And certainly not to you, my dear fellow. Everyone knows who you are. Just as we all knew who Narraway was. You are the last person to whom we would confide anything at all! The slightest misstep could end up being one’s undoing. If ever there was a man not to trust, Narraway was it. Not that he wasn’t hoist with his own petard now and then. A certain poetic justice to that.”

  “And yet he continued to come here.” Pitt was too engaged in the conversation to withdraw now.

  The steward returned with the whisky, and they remained in silence until he finished his duties and left.

  Jack raised his glass. “Thank you, Kendrick. Here’s to double-sided conversations. Perhaps Halberd liked the whisky?” He sipped his. “It’s very good.”