The American Agent by Jacqueline Winspear

Author:Jacqueline Winspear [Winspear, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780062436665
Google: i_3PuAEACAAJ
Amazon: B07B7K973K
Barnesnoble: B07B7K973K
Goodreads: 40604756
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2019-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

“Yes!”

“MacFarlane. It’s Maisie Dobbs here.”

“Any news yet?” A shuffle of papers accompanied MacFarlane’s brusque question, followed by an expletive as the echo of a heavy tome dropping off the desk reverberated down the line.

“None of note,” said Maisie, making no comment on MacFarlane’s language. “I have questions though.”

“You would have.”

“Yes, I would—but first of all, I have hardly seen our friend Mr. Scott since he met me at the hospital, and according to the briefing, we are supposed to be on this case together.”

“Missing him, are you, Maisie?” said MacFarlane.

“No, and to be fair, he said he had other responsibilities, but I am not entirely at ease.” Maisie twisted the telephone cord around her fingers—already she was debating how much to take MacFarlane into her confidence.

“Go on, lass—what’re you thinking?”

“Robbie—I know I’ve hinted at this before, but I believe this investigation has given Mr. Scott a cover for something else.”

“So what if it has? None of our business. And it leaves you to do what you do best, which is work alone. Think of it as an advantage—you can move faster if you don’t have to keep slowing down, after all, we both know murder isn’t exactly his forte, though I am sure he’s very good at whatever his job is.”

“He’s lied to me already, Robbie.”

“Playing devil’s advocate here, Maisie—why would he not lie to you, if he has other fish to fry? He doesn’t want you sniffing around his work, and as far as I can see, he’s letting you proceed with yours.”

Maisie was silent.

“Still there, lass?”

“Yes—but Robbie, what if the fish he is frying has something to do with the investigation, and . . . let me think here.” She paused. “What if he’s controlling my inquiry to make sure I don’t get in the way of his, and I’m on the case because if it were Scotland Yard investigating—someone like Caldwell, for instance—then he wouldn’t be able to exercise as much control. As I have been given to understand, if Scott tells me to go in a different direction at any point, then I have to go—even if that direction is away from where my nose is telling me I must go.”

“Hmmm,” said MacFarlane.

“Hmmm what?” asked Maisie.

“Maisie, continue with your investigation. Get on with the job, and find out who killed Catherine Saxon. The sooner you bring the killer to me, the sooner you’re off the case and you can see the back of our American friend.”

“All right—I just wanted to tell you what I believe is happening.”

“You’ve indicated as much before, so I thank you for the telephone call to recap. And I forgot to ask—how are you? I heard about what happened to Mrs. Partridge.”

“She’s in good hands, Robbie—but not out of the woods. And me? My hands hurt and I’ve a slight black eye—it’s because the cut is draining, but I’m on the mend.”

“All right then. I’ll telephone you later, at Chelstone. Give that little girl of yours a kiss from her Uncle Robbie.”

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