Murder Most Royal

‘And it’s to do with pigeons?’

‘Or drugs, or both,’ Rozie said. ‘She’s keeping all options open at the moment. It may be nothing.’

‘It’s not usually nothing,’ Katie muttered.

‘Did you help her a lot?’ Rozie asked. ‘This way, I mean.’

Katie reached into a cupboard and took a couple of delicate, handmade porcelain teacups from a shelf, arranging them carefully on the tray beside the pot. ‘Once or twice,’ she acknowledged. ‘But never murder. How about you?’

‘A couple of times last year. Not that you’d know the Boss did anything. One man got knighted. Another got a medal. She likes to keep a low profile, doesn’t she?’

Katie grinned. ‘It’s like Bletchley Park in the war. Or the first rule of Fight Club. Have you met the others yet?’

Rozie shook her head. ‘The other APSs, you mean? Only Aileen.’

‘I met them all at a get-together they were having at the Ritz,’ Katie said, avoiding Rozie’s eye and rearranging the cups. ‘They were such amazing people. One of them actually did work at Bletchley and she was totally with it still, and fabulous. I could see myself like her one day, you know, this kick-ass old lady like the one in Jenny Joseph’s poem who will wear purple and a red hat.’

Rozie didn’t know the poem. She made a mental note to look it up when she got back. Katie led the way into the living room, small and neat and lined with as many books as could fit. There was a small study table in one corner, with yet more books piled up on it. The dachshund waited for Rozie to choose a seat and then jumped up to sit beside her.

‘Ignore Daphne,’ Katie told her, putting the tray down on a small coffee table and curling up in the chair opposite them. ‘She just wants to be cuddled and admired and getting it twenty-four-seven from me isn’t enough.’

Rozie was happy to oblige the wriggling puppy. She hadn’t grown up with dogs, but she was generally fond of them, and she was certainly used to them by now.

‘She was a present from the Boss,’ Katie explained. ‘To keep me company.’

Rozie wondered why the Queen had thought Katie needed a dog. She knew that she had been a high-flying civil servant in the Home Office before taking on the APS job. Usually, people did it for several years before going on to greater things. Rumours abounded as to what the ‘mental health problems’ might have been. Sir Simon had respected Katie’s privacy, so Rozie did, too. If Katie wanted to explain, she would. In any case, they had other things to talk about.

‘Have you met Judy Raspberry?’ she asked.

Katie smiled. ‘Have I? I’d been here for about seven minutes when she arrived with a pot of home-made vegetable lasagne, in case I was vegetarian, and a bag of sausages and bacon, in case I wasn’t. A week after I got Daphne, she invited herself over for tea and took a look around. The following day she came laden with dog paraphernalia. There was a harness to make the lead more comfortable, a dog bed, a ball-thrower and some old towels for rubbing her down after walks. Judy said it was all going spare, but I swear she bought the harness specially.’

‘Is she like that with everyone?’

‘Not necessarily. I’ve heard that if you get on the wrong side of her you’ll know about it.’

‘On the wrong side of her how?’

Katie cupped one of the teacups in her hands and breathed in the steam. Her clean-living lifestyle was very noticeable after Sandringham, where the gin would be flowing freely by now.

‘There were a couple of cars that used to park near the crossing place for the school, so the kids couldn’t see the traffic easily. The owners received warning notices from the council. Rumour has it – which I believe – that Judy worked out who was doing it and put in a call. She doesn’t put up with what she calls “nonsense”.’

‘But you don’t know about anything she was currently worked up about?’

‘Not beyond the usual, no. You said it might be to do with Edward St Cyr. What makes the Boss think the two are connected?’

Rozie pursed her lips. The Queen had not been specific when she had outlined her concerns this morning. ‘The coincidence of timing, for a start. Judy was knocked over five days after Mr St Cyr disappeared. And it’s something to do with who Judy is. The Boss has this sixth sense for dangerous women.’

‘You think Judy’s dangerous?’

‘To the wrong person, maybe. You said she won’t put up with “nonsense”. She’ll take on anyone who threatens the school kids’ safety. Perhaps she took on someone with more at stake than she realised.’

‘And Mr St Cyr took on the same person?’