Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(57)

He had seen it in his father, as long as he could remember. His mother, too. She was even quicker to defend the vulnerable. It did not often occur to her to wonder if they deserved it. In fact, he could not remember her ever doing that. She had defended him when he was wrong, but punished him herself afterwards! He smiled at it now, but he had been scared stiff of her anger at the time.

Strange thing, loyalty; defence of the vulnerable, whether right or wrong. Who to trust? Loyalty to what? Which were the ideals to follow? There were so very many! What were they worth, if mercy were not one of them?

He sipped his tea again, and another bacon sandwich appeared on his plate. ‘Thank you,’ he said appreciatively, and began eating it immediately.

‘We must find out where Graves got his information, starting with those things that are true.’ Blackwell resumed.

‘There’s not much of it true!’ Daniel said too quickly.

Mercy patted him on the arm. ‘Whatever is. It’s the only starting place that we know of. Get those things, and you may get the people. And find something we would like to have been true, and wasn’t, and that’s a point to fix the moving pieces!’

Daniel began to see what she was meaning. ‘But if we do find out who was giving Graves the information, what good will that do us?’

Mercy was absolutely direct. ‘What good do you want?’

Daniel hesitated. What he wanted most was to prove beyond doubt that his father was not guilty of concealing a murder dishonourably, that he had a compelling reason, one that any decent person would understand. Graves had implied that this reason did not exist. There was nothing to expose, if there were such a reason. He knew perfectly well that Pitt would never have sanctioned the killing of Ebony Graves. That was not even a question. Nor would he have intentionally looked the other way while someone else did.

And did not that amount to the question, in the end, of whether Narraway was guilty of any of the things he was accused of?

Another thought occurred to him. If Narraway was guilty, had the person behind this known that at the time? Had they colluded in it?

And did he, Daniel, want to prove Graves innocent, or not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt? Or did he really want to see him hanged, but with a clean conscience?

Mercy was waiting, watching his face.

Perhaps the last was really the truth, and he wanted to see him hanged.

‘I want lots of things,’ he said. ‘In order? I want to prove Graves killed his wife and we would be right to hang him. That if he didn’t, I want to know who did, and prove that. And I want to prove that my father didn’t—’ He stopped.

He had said too much already. Was betrayal really as easy as that – a careless word because you could not carry the weight of a secret alone? The doubt in it was too much for you?

‘And you would like it in the next fifteen days,’ Mercy said in black humour.

‘Sixteen,’ Daniel corrected, his own smile twisted.

‘Fifteen,’ she repeated. ‘Eight o’clock in the morning, sixteen days from now, he’ll be hanged.’

He did not bother to argue. He recounted briefly his visit to Graves’ house in Herne Hill with Miriam fford Croft and what they had observed at the murder scene.

Mercy poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside him. ‘If what Graves said is true, then Ebony’s character is by the way and has nothing to do with her death. The purpose is to blame Graves and silence him.’

Daniel nodded. ‘That is pretty brutal!’

‘Yes,’ she agreed.

He thought for a moment, forcing his mind to remain on the immediate problem. ‘Then why burn her face? That makes it very personal.’

‘All I could find about her, she was a woman who aroused deep feelings,’ Mercy said thoughtfully. ‘But more liked than disliked. She fought hard for what she believed in and she didn’t hold her tongue, when perhaps she ought to have. Enthusiast, you know? If you are enthusiastic, too, she’s wonderful. If not – she would be very irritating. Rather an . . . irresponsible sense of humour, as one woman put it.’ Suddenly her face filled with sorrow. As if the reality had suddenly reached her. ‘I think I would have liked her.’

Blackwell started to speak.

Mercy held up her hand. ‘I know.’ She sniffed. ‘I know for you to burn someone’s face away because they irritate you, it was not easy to do. It requires a cold heart, an overbearing need, and something to make it burn. Flesh does not burn by itself. And why?’ She looked at Daniel. ‘I tried to find something she knew that was dangerous. Nothing. It makes no sense.’

Daniel drew a deep breath. ‘Then you think she could have been killed just to cause Graves to be hanged?’

Blackwell nodded slowly. ‘Mercy’s told me all she found out. No one had a reason to kill Ebony. Jealousy, yes, maybe.’ His face expressed what he thought of that. ‘Disagreed with her ideas, definitely. But I’m afraid none of the changes she wanted are likely to happen within the next ten years, anyway. And then, maybe, nothing will stop them. If she’d been slashed in a fight, I’d believe it. Another woman’s jealousy, maybe. But finding a way into her house, when her children were at home – nothing was heard, no noise, no lock picked, no window broken – and burning her face?’ He looked from one to the other of them.

‘I see,’ Daniel cut in. ‘You are right. If it were a personal thing, it would have cleared up suddenly, and would have been an attack, a fight, and all happening there and then. It would not be a break-in to her own house, after dark, and an attack in her bedroom by someone who left no trace.’