Stealing the Crown (A Guy Harford Mystery) by TP Fielden

Author:TP Fielden [Fielden, TP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-31T22:00:00+00:00

Leaning over the rail by Westminster Bridge, waiting for him, Rupert Hardacre presented a passable imitation of a Post Office worker whose labours were done for the day, gazing south across the River Thames, maybe dreaming of his holidays.

Guy approached his flatmate with caution. He’d grown to like Rupert, but the idea that he’d been planted in the flat to spy on him – or, at the very least, to watch him – rankled. True, when he arrived back in Britain he possessed secrets from his activities with the Count of Paris and the genial Teddy Dunlop, but did they, now the skies were full of planes, amount to anything much? Why had he been gifted this cuckoo in the nest?

‘Dancing tonight?’ said Rupe, nodding a welcome.

‘What?’

‘The Palais. Rodie sent you the tickets, remember?’

‘Damn! I’d forgotten all about it. Probably not. Look, if . . .’

‘If I were you, I would – she’s a tremendously valuable asset.’

‘She steals the possessions of dead people,’ said Guy crossly. ‘In Tangier they’d cut your hand off for that.’

Rupe lit a cigarette and let the match flutter into the Thames. ‘Be nice to her,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We need her.’

‘I’m not “we”. I don’t have much idea of what you’re up to, but whatever it is it’s not my game, Rupe. I have a palace job, not some cloak-and-dagger role with a nameless government agency. My days are filled coping with the weird errands I’m given without having to consort with criminals who, incidentally, could cost me my job if I was ever found in their company.’

‘That won’t happen,’ said Rupe with conviction. ‘So no need to worry about that. She wants to dance – take her.’

‘You take her if it’s that important.’

‘I’m not her type.’

‘So her type is a washed-up artist with a dicky heart and a sinecure of a job at the Palace? Not too many of those around – maybe she should cast her net a bit wider.’

‘Go on, Guy – she’s lovely. And a wonderful dancer, according to Lem.’

Guy tried his best to mask his irritation. ‘No,’ he said finally, ‘no. No dancing tonight. I want you to come and see my new studio – we can catch a bus or walk, your choice.’

‘Let’s walk. I’ve been sitting all day.’

The pair set off at a brisk pace across Parliament Square and along the Victoria Embankment, both glad of the exercise.

‘Making any progress with Suzy Easthampton?’ asked Rupe.

‘I’d love to know what your interest is in her. Is it the same as mine? That she may’ve had a hand in Ed Brampton’s murder?’

‘Not exactly. She comes under the heading of “foreign”, so “no” is the answer to your question. I’m more of a homebody myself.’

‘So you’re MI5, not MI6.’

‘Some might put it that way. I’m not one for labels personally.’

‘And you were put in our flat to watch me?’

‘It’s not quite like that. More a sort of protection.’

‘Am I in danger, then?’

‘I was asking you about the elusive Lady Easthampton.

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