Under a Lightning Sky by Pam Lecky

Author:Pam Lecky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
Published: 2024-05-13T11:15:10+00:00

19

27th December 1940, Albemarle Street, London

Fairfax & Fairfax Solicitors was situated in a four-storey building on one of the smartest streets in the area, just down from Brown’s Hotel on Albemarle Street. As Jamie and Lyle drew close, Jamie spotted a woman on the steps, polishing the brass plaques to the side of the doorway.

‘How was he on the phone, sir?’ Lyle asked.

‘Curious, obviously, and reluctant to meet with us. But I insisted,’ Jamie said. ‘I didn’t tell him about the murder over the phone. I want to observe his reaction first-hand. Lucky he’s back in London; I didn’t fancy having to drive out to Oxford.’

They walked past the charwoman and followed the signs for the ‘Fairfax & Fairfax Clerk’s Office’ to the second floor. The door to the office stood open, and a lugubrious gentleman, dressed in an old-fashioned black suit and a still wing-collared shirt, eyed them warily as they approached his desk.

‘Good morning. We are here to see Mr Arthur Fairfax, please,’ Jamie said. ‘I believe he is expecting us.’

This produced a withering look from the clerk. ‘Your name, please? And does sir have an actual appointment? I’m afraid if one doesn’t, it will be impossible today.’ Looking down his nose, he scanned the pages of the diary on his desk. ‘Next week might be possible…’

Was the stalling down to Arthur Fairfax himself or was the clerk always so mulish?

Jamie took out his warrant card. ‘I am Detective Inspector Barton, Scotland Yard. And yes, Mr Fairfax is expecting us. I spoke to him on the telephone earlier.’

A quirked brow was the initial response, followed by a sniff. ‘Wait here, please, and I will see if Mr Fairfax is free.’ Halfway to the door, the clerk stalled. ‘What is this about? Does this concern one of our clients?’

‘That’s confidential, I’m afraid,’ Jamie answered, feeling some satisfaction on seeing the older man’s lips puckering in annoyance.

Whilst they waited, Jamie strolled over to the window that overlooked the rear of the property, with the rooftops of Dover Street beyond.

‘Ahem! Mr Fairfax will see you now,’ the clerk declared as he walked back into the room a few minutes later. ‘First door on the left.’

‘You are most kind; thank you,’ Jamie said, not daring to catch Lyle’s eye.

It could have been any solicitor’s room anywhere in England, Jamie mused, as he entered Arthur Fairfax’s office. Archaic furniture and the musty odour of ancient files accentuated the gloomy atmosphere. The only saving feature was a large sash window behind the man’s desk, which flooded the room with cold December light.

Fairfax rose to greet them, unsmiling. Of average height, his pale blue eyes were his most striking feature. Dark hair, grey at the temples, was greased back from his large forehead, resulting in a harsh demeanour. Jamie judged him to be at least forty, a good ten years older than his late wife. Was his severe appearance a cultivated one to strike awe in his clients? Jamie wondered. And how on earth did

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