Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(21)

Daniel drew in his breath to say that was preposterous. Then he saw fford Croft’s unblinking blue eyes staring back at him and knew that any protest would be taken as rebellion, or simply cowardice. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said very quietly.

‘Well, get on with it! Time’s wasting!’ fford Croft banged his hand on the surface of his desk.

Kitteridge and Daniel turned in one movement and went out of the door, just as Impney appeared from the pantry with a tray of tea.

‘We’ll take it in my office,’ Kitteridge said, after a momentary hesitation. ‘Thank you.’

Daniel did not have an office, just a desk in the corner of the main room. He followed Kitteridge. Impney laid the tray on the desk and left.

Kitteridge sat down behind the desk, and Daniel sat in front of it, in the client’s chair. ‘Is there any legal error that you can find? One that would make any difference?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. None I could see at the time, or I’d have said,’ Kitteridge replied. ‘I might be able to find some precedent.’ There was no life in his voice. ‘I suppose. I know several people I can ask. One thing is clear, either there is or there isn’t. Your task is a great deal harder. Somebody killed the poor woman, and she certainly didn’t burn herself like that by accident, especially since it seemed to have happened after she was dead.’ A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Daniel shuddered in spite of himself. What kind of hatred disfigured someone till they were almost unrecognisable, as if death were not enough? ‘He hid it very well . . .’

‘What? How much he hated her? We’re trying to prove him innocent, you ass! The jury’s already found him guilty.’

‘We can’t find him innocent, if he isn’t,’ Daniel argued. ‘fford Croft can’t be asking us to do that.’

Kitteridge’s eyebrows rose. ‘I think that is exactly what he is asking us to do.’

‘No . . . not exactly. He said to find someone else to suspect, although it will have to be more than that. It will have to be absolute proof, and even then their lordships won’t be keen on reversing the verdict. A legal fault would be better.’

Kitteridge gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘That’s because you think I’m going to do that. I don’t think there is a fault to find. And to get anywhere, we will have to have both. A legal fault might earn a retrial, but what the hell difference will that make, if he’s still guilty?’

‘Do you think that he is?’ Daniel asked, watching Kitteridge’s face. He saw the shadow, the sadness, and also the desperation as Kitteridge foresaw his own career jeopardised because he could not save a guilty man from the gallows. ‘You don’t need to consider that,’ Daniel said before Kitteridge could speak. ‘You think he’s guilty. So do I. But we’ve got to give this the best shot we can. Mr fford Croft must have his reasons for wanting Graves to be spared and it means he know something he can’t tell us – maybe for national security or something like that.’

Kitteridge sat forward suddenly. ‘Do you think he does?’

‘Why else would he insist on us pursuing this, even though the verdict is in?’ Daniel said reasonably.

Kitteridge thought for a moment. ‘What could it be? A debt? A secret? But whose?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Daniel replied, ‘but he’s protecting someone.’

‘We’d better make plans, and keep each other up to date.’

‘One of us may find something that will help the other,’ Daniel suggested.

‘Highly unlikely, but we need to try.’ Kitteridge gave another twisted smile. ‘Where are you going to start?’

Daniel smiled back, and then said, ‘I’ll go and see Graves again. He must know more than he’s told us.’

‘He won’t tell you anything,’ Kitteridge replied. ‘I’ve spent weeks trying to get him to open up.’

‘Well, I can’t find a hole in the law,’ Daniel responded. ‘To me, it is as full of holes as a lace collar.’

For some reason, Kitteridge thought that was funny. Daniel could still hear him laughing as he went out of the front door into the street. The sound haunted him: there was so much fear in it, and anticipation of defeat.

Daniel went back to his lodgings, although it was a little late for dinner now. He apologised to Mrs Portiscale, who forgave him, as she always did, and made him some scrambled eggs on toast, and a fresh pot of tea. He ate his meal, still contemplating the case.

Where would his father have begun? As Marcus fford Croft had reminded him, Thomas Pitt had been an extremely good detective. Still was! That didn’t mean that Daniel had any of the same gifts; he certainly hadn’t got the same history.

His features and his colouring were more like a masculine version of his mother, so he had been told. But his build was tall and lanky, like his father’s, and the way he walked was the same. A big difference was that he did not stuff his pockets with everything he might need one day! Perhaps he had a little more vanity.

He took his tray to the kitchen, and thanked Mrs Portiscale again, then returned to his room and lay back in the armchair, looking at the ceiling.

He may learn nothing if he gained permission to see Graves, but they had no new questions to ask him. Graves had already said he was innocent, and had no idea who might be guilty. Had he expected to be acquitted? Would the shadow of the noose now hanging over him sharpen his mind to the reality that no one could save him without his help?