The Strings of Murder Read Online Free Page B

musician slaughtered in Scotland?’
    I could almost see the blood deserting Monro’s face. ‘What did you … how do you …?’ And then his skin went from ghostly pale to furious red. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me, you pathetic little man?’
    ‘Absolutely not!’ I said impassively. ‘Blackmail would imply that I needed something from you, and there will be ice in hell before a Frey of Magdeburg seeks the aid of a dirty Lothian dweller. Good da–’
    At that instant the door slammed open and a short, plump man walked in briskly, wrapped in a heavy raincoat and followed by four guards and a young assistant. The man threw his coat aside and then I saw his round belly, bald head and bushy beard. I felt a twinge in the chest as I realized that it was none other than Lord Robert Cecil, Third Marquess of Salisbury and Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.
    Monro stood up automatically, almost knocking over his big chair.
    ‘Prime Minister,’ Monro said lavishly. ‘Welcome to our –’
    ‘Keep the flattery to yourself,’ snapped Salisbury as he walked past me. He cast me an irate stare. ‘Who is this?’
    Monro seemed paralysed. He opened his mouth twice but not a sound came out.
    Seeing that he could not manage to speak, I bowed respectfully. ‘Inspector Ian Frey, My Lord.’
    ‘I was just dismissing him,’ Monro jumped in. ‘Inspector Frey was one of Warren’s inner circle. I am sorry you had to –’
    ‘Your face is familiar,’ the prime minister said, ignoring Monro entirely. ‘Are you not the detective who incarcerated the arsenic black widow?’
    ‘Good Mary Brown,’ I said at once, my chest swelling like a bellows. ‘I am indeed, sir.’
    There was an almost imperceptible change in Lord Salisbury’s expression – I would have missed it had I not been standing so close to him. He held a firm stare for a moment, slowly arching an eyebrow, studying me. I could tell that a million thoughts were teeming in his head … and I did not like it.
    ‘Leave us, Mr Frey,’ he ordered, but in a tone notably less harsh than his first roar.
    I bowed again and left the room immediately, with the acute stare of the prime minister imprinted in my head.
    I still shudder a little when I think of that moment. Had Monro simply dismissed me as ‘no one’, or had I left the room but a minute earlier, the rest of my life would have been decidedly different.



3
    It took me only a few hours to give Inspector Swanson a full account of the cases I’d been handling. My neat filing system was of great help, and when I left the office the man was digging confidently in the piles of documents.
    Wiggins, who had been my assistant for over three years, could not hide his sorrow. I could tell he enjoyed his work with the police force almost as much as I did, and it angered me that I would not be able to see how his career progressed.
    As I walked out of the room Wiggins tried to compose some farewell, but only managed to swallow painfully. I patted his shoulder and winked.
    ‘I will be back, Wiggins,’ I assured him, even though I did not maintain the faintest hope. Once outside, I hailed the first cab I saw.
    I realized with utter dismay that I was suddenly free to attend my parents’ dinner party … and to tell them the grim news. My father was not going to be amused, and my brother Laurence would surely make the most of it. I looked at my pocket watch and calculated that I would have enough time to go Suffolk Street, refresh my clothing and call the barber for that shave I had skipped. An unemployed castaway I might be, but never a scruffy one.
    The Freys’ mansion in Hyde Park Gate was not far from Kensington Gardens. The elegant house had an immaculate white-plastered façade, which glowed amidst the greyness of London as the carriage drove me into the wide, pristine lane. The maples were already losing their foliage, yet the street was kept immaculate by hard-working sweepers.
    The carriage stopped in front of