The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co. #5)(109)



‘Hold on – Barnes also says you helped capture one of Gale’s thugs who tried to escape,’ Holly said eagerly. ‘Says he pulled a sword on you, but you disarmed him with six swipes of your slime flange! That sounds incredible, Flo! I so wish I’d seen it!’

‘I’m not sure I remember that bit.’ Flo retrieved the final trace of pie and mash with a finger, and tossed the dish onto the table. She glanced over at the café door, where Inspector Barnes had appeared. He was loudly giving orders to an officer behind him. ‘Looks like it’s maybe time to go,’ she said. ‘DEPRAC officers and me don’t normally see eye to eye. Special circumstances only. I’ll see you later, maybe. Meantime – try to smarten yourselves up!’

George pulled back the silver hood and adjusted his glasses. ‘Flo – when everything’s settled down, couple of days or so, I was wondering if—’

She grinned at him, showing her bright white teeth. ‘Yeah, come and find me. I’ll be under a bridge somewhere.’

‘I’ll bring liquorice,’ George said. But Flo had faded back into the crowd.

Barking a series of gruff apologies, Inspector Barnes pushed his way past the tea queues to our table. He had one arm in a sling, protruding from beneath his leather jacket.

‘Hello, Mr Barnes.’ Lockwood put on a fair attempt at his most gleaming smile. ‘Nice jacket,’ he added. ‘It really suits you.’

The inspector regarded himself. ‘You know, I think it does. I just might keep it. So, you’re being fed and watered then. Anything else you need?’

‘Pie and mash would go down nicely,’ George said. ‘Also some sticky toffee pudding … If you’re offering.’

‘I’m not. And they’re all out of that next door too. One of my men just asked. What I really came to tell you is that we’re almost done with the search-and-rescue operation over the road. I’ll be wanting you to escort me down into the basement soon, show me what’s what.’

‘Excuse me, Inspector,’ I said, ‘but is there any word on Kipps?’

Barnes rubbed at his moustache. ‘I believe he’s been in surgery. The doctors are cautiously optimistic.’ He held up a hand as we all tried to speak. ‘And no, you can’t visit him. You’d only cause disaster somehow. Cubbins would trip up and impale him on his sword, or Lockwood here would grin him half to death. Just let him be. I need you all here, anyway.’ He frowned. ‘I want to see the basement before I begin my interrogation of those white coats we found skulking down below.’

‘Most of the Fittes crowd will have had nothing to do with it,’ Lockwood said. ‘It’s just a very small group of them – an inner core – who worked on the secret projects. But the same isn’t true of the members of the Orpheus Society, and they’re powerful people. What are you going to do about them?’

‘I don’t know yet!’ The inspector glared at us. ‘I don’t know! There are big decisions to be made, and much to be done.’ He sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘The one good thing is that all those relics from the pillars have been destroyed. And I’m going to go one better. DEPRAC will ensure that any psychic object found inside that cursed building is immediately destroyed.’

‘Good idea, Mr Barnes,’ I said. I glanced down under the table, at the roundish bundle of burnt cloth resting between my feet.

‘There’s one more thing you might want to prioritize, Inspector,’ Lockwood said. He lowered his voice. ‘We talked about it earlier. Penelope’s and Marissa’s bodies …’

Barnes winced, and glanced anxiously across at the other café customers. ‘Not so loud! We don’t want everyone overhearing this …’ He drew close and spoke in an undertone. ‘What about them?’

‘You’ll want to dispose of … those objects pretty quickly,’ Lockwood went on. ‘Might I suggest they’re taken to the Fittes Mausoleum up the road? That’s where Marissa ought to be, after all.’

‘There’s someone down there who’ll be very pleased to see her,’ Holly said. She took a fastidious sip of tea.

Barnes straightened; he had noticed one of his men signalling at the door. ‘We’ll see what we can do. Well, I’ll leave you for the present. There are legions of reporters clamouring for a statement. In the meantime, rest up, don’t leave, and don’t talk to anybody here.’

‘At least the truth about the Problem will come out now,’ Lockwood said. He had been looking towards the square, where the crowds were continuing to grow.

Barnes patted him on the shoulder. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘About all that … You and I clearly need to have a little chat.’

In the event our work at Fittes House lasted until lunch time; after that, further consultations at Scotland Yard took up the entire afternoon. The DEPRAC cars didn’t drop us back at the end of Portland Row until after five. You could feel the onset of evening in the air, but the sky was still blue, and the rusted ghost-lamps were not yet buzzing into life. The momentous events in central London had yet to resonate here. Many of the houses still had their doors and windows open, and children were playing on the pavements and in their yards. The purple-blue splendour of the lavender bushes pressing against the railings almost gave the street the air of a formal garden. At gates and porches, beneath twinkling silvery defences, neighbours discussed the events of the day. Old Arif, standing outside his shop, was tipping last night’s lavender ash out of his street brazier before readying another fire. His humming, the laughter of the children and the voices of the adults merged and mingled on the ear.

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