Canary Child by David Field & Alan Dance

Author:David Field & Alan Dance [Field, David & Dance, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arundel Books
Published: 2014-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

“The chef recommends the Beef Wellington, madam.”

Dorothy smiled up at the uniformed steward. “I’ve only ever had that once before, and it was delicious. I’ll have that, please.”

“And for you, sir?” he asked Tim.

“The sirloin, please – medium rare. And a bottle of the Anjou Rosé.”

“Very good, sir, madam.”

As he oozed back towards the kitchen, Dorothy asked, “Did you manage to get the information on Mr Stinson?”

“Simpson,” he corrected her. “Claude Simpson. And yes I did, but it was one of those amazing coincidences which make you believe that fate’s on your side.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Well, the records are all kept in London, at the Public Record Office. The same person who gave me the gen on Bert was also able to tell me that Private Claude Simpson was discharged with an honourable mention in January of 1919. That should have been the end of it, but as luck would have it, there was a written request on the file for confirmation of his wartime service, and in particular the fact that he’d been mustard gassed in 1915, when he applied for a place in an ex-servicemen’s assisted housing complex near Ollerton only last year. London gave me the address, I telephoned them, and . . .”

“Ergo,” Dorothy chipped in.

“Yes, ergo, I’ve got his address.”

“Splendid! At least we know he’s still alive. When are you free to go?”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because first of all, you know where it is; secondly, I don’t trust my old A40 to make it all the way to Ollerton; thirdly you have access to a car and driver, and finally, and most importantly, if you wear your uniform and arrive in an official-looking car, he’ll be more inclined to tell the truth.”

“I admire your faith in all but your A40. But my driver’ll not be pleased to be called out on a weekend. He can be a bit difficult sometimes.”

“He seemed charming enough to me when he brought me down here this evening, and he said what a pleasure it would be to drive me home later.”

“That might have something to do with the short skirt you’re wearing, not to mention the blouse which needs some work on the top button.”

Dorothy’s hand flew down to just below her throat, then she grinned at Tim. “Got me there, you bugger! I’d not got you down as a practical joker.”

He grinned back. “What say we go up in my car?”

“Thank you for conceding that you’ll be coming with me, but I couldn’t sit for an hour and a half in your little green coffin without aggravating my arthritis.”

“Leave it with me, anyway. I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday, one way or the other.”

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