Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(42)

The seconds ticked by, and then he looked up at Daniel at last. ‘I owe him this much. It is as simple as that. And before you say so, I know that my chief obligation is to the law, and not to what I may consider my own idea of justice. Andrew Graves lost everything. He need not have, had I been wiser and more diligent. I owe Russell Graves the best effort I have, even if I despise him personally and think him guilty. We are not judge or jury, Pitt. We are advocates. Russell Graves never told me he was guilty of his wife’s death. He has always insisted he was not. It is my job before the law to defend him to the best of my ability. And that means of yours, too. This other . . . is monstrous. I know nothing of it. But it does not mean he killed his wife. In fact, it gives sufficient motive to several others to raise reasonable doubt. We have let him down also.’

‘No, sir!’ Daniel said loudly. ‘He knew he was writing such a book. He did not tell any of us. I can well see why he did not tell me, but in honesty he should have told you.’

‘I have known your father for years, Pitt, not well, but well enough to know that the suggestions you say Graves makes are not true. Unfortunately, the public does not know what Special Branch does. They do not know of all the disasters they prevent. That is the nature of the office.’

‘And we are going to use it to seek another trial? Or is it too late?’

fford Croft’s face lit with a bitter humour. ‘That is surely the last thing you want? Apart from destroying your father’s reputation, to open up the security services to such public review would be little short of treason. We cannot even mention it in open court. And Russell Graves must have known that.’

‘Then wouldn’t it be treasonous to publish this book?’ Daniel asked.

‘Possibly, but it could be veiled in such implication as merely to be libellous, although Victor Narraway is dead, and so is Lady Vespasia. They cannot sue; one cannot libel the dead. And if Thomas Pitt decided to sue for libel, because Graves called him deceitful or corrupt, it would be pointless. Once you have lost the public’s confidence, you cannot regain it.’

‘Why would Graves write such a thing?’

‘Possibly for money,’ fford Croft said wearily ‘To draw attention to himself. To have some imagined revenge.’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. The thing is to see that it is not published. And hanging him will not necessarily do that. There may be other pages, notes that the publisher already has.’

A coldness settled around Daniel’s chest, almost too tightly for him to breathe. ‘Apart from that, sir, if he did not kill Ebony Graves, then who did?’

Marcus looked at him.

‘He could defend himself, sir,’ Daniel went on, ‘by saying he was being made to look guilty by someone in Special Branch. That would be his ultimate revenge. He can say that to anyone – to Kitteridge, next time he sees him. To an appeal judge, if we get an appeal. Even to a journalist! I suppose he could raise his father’s case and say that you are trying to silence him . . . if he’s desperate enough.’

fford Croft started to speak, then faltered to a stop.

Daniel said nothing.

fford Croft began again. ‘Do you want to be released from this case, Pitt?’

‘No!’ The answer was instant, and not thought out.

This time, it was fford Croft who was silent.

‘No,’ Daniel said again, leaning forward a little towards the desk. ‘I have established a relationship . . . with the household of Russell Graves. I care what happens to his children. I gave them my word. And . . . and for my father. At least I know his nature, and that includes his integrity. And I can’t leave finding this to someone else. My father may have made mistakes. It’s a very difficult job, and there’s not always a right and a wrong. I had . . . I have to know as much as I can to defend him, if it ever comes to that. I can’t go and bury my head in the sand. This isn’t going to go away, especially as we are trying to prove that Graves did not, in fact, kill his wife,’ Daniel said.

‘Yes,’ fford Croft agreed. ‘But at least let us say we have to find the truth. If it exonerates Graves of his wife’s murder, then it might well implicate someone else. To summarise, it would seem to be either someone in the house, or someone who was allowed in by one of the servants. The police are certain there was no break-in. Of the people in the house, Graves himself is most likely. The alternatives are only the servants, or one of the children. Arthur is in a wheelchair. By every account we have, Sarah and her mother were close. There is no word of any quarrel at all, let alone one terrible enough for a girl to have killed her mother and then burned her face and hair, till she was barely recognisable.’

fford Croft’s voice held level, but Daniel knew the intensity of self-control he was exercising, because he saw the white knuckles of the hand resting on his desk and the pulse beating in his temple.

‘Yes, sir,’ Daniel said quietly. All the time his mind was racing over what he could remember about his father and Special Branch. He had memories of conversations. Mention of crime, often murder, of pretence and deceit. He could remember bombings, and his father coming home desperate to stop them. Frightened people wanted quick answers. If Pitt had taught him anything, it was that there were many sides to any story.

As Daniel had grown older, he had begun to realise how difficult it was to make a judgement, and that the answer often contained tragedy as much as any intentional evil. It was so much easier to be angry, to blame, rather than be drenched with pity.