Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(59)

‘We’ll never get permission to exhume the body!’ Daniel said in disbelief. Please God, Blackwell was not suggesting they do so anyhow. ‘Roman, we can’t go grave-robbing! Apart from anything else, the evidence wouldn’t stand up in court – that is, if we’re even out of prison ourselves and allowed to offer it!’

Blackwell pressed his hand over his eyes. ‘Please, Daniel, couldn’t we have a little sense? We’ll get an exhumation order.’

‘They’ll never give one. The case is closed, as far as they’re concerned. They had their evidence. The police surgeon looked at the body – or someone did.’

‘Someone?’ Blackwell’s eyebrows shot up.

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there until the end of the trial. But they won’t give us an order.’

‘Would this Miriam of yours do it if we can get the body up, legally?’

‘It won’t happen . . .’

Blackwell slammed his hand down on the table. ‘Would she?’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

‘Fine. Then leave the exhumation order with me. I’ll get one.’

‘Not a forgery!’

Blackwell looked indignant for a moment then he gave a bright smile. ‘No, not a forgery. It’s got to be a real one, so I’ll get a real one. Just go on with what you are doing. I’ll let you know when I have it.’

‘A real one,’ Daniel insisted. He knew Blackwell’s forgery skills.

‘Of course, a real one! There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’

‘Disgusting!’ Daniel’s imagination ran riot.

‘Not a real cat, you fool,’ Blackwell sighed. ‘When are you going to learn to speak English like an ordinary person?’

Mercy put her hand on Blackwell’s arm. ‘Enough,’ she said gently. ‘The poor boy’s in a miserable situation. They’re after his father. Just get on with it and speak to whoever you have to.’ She turned to Daniel. ‘And you get yourself ready to go back to Graves. And mind how you watch yourself! When you’ve got a rat cornered, that’s when he’ll bite anybody, starting with you.’

‘I know,’ Daniel agreed. ‘Thank you for the bacon sandwiches.’

Mercy smiled. ‘There are times when it’s the only thing that works.’





Chapter Fourteen


Daniel left Blackwell’s house, and went straight to the chambers in Lincoln’s Inn. He spoke briefly with fford Croft. Apart from the courtesy of reporting in to him, he wanted to do it when he had something to say, rather than when he was sent for.

fford Croft was sitting behind his desk reading papers. He looked up as Impney announced Daniel, hope in his face. It faded rapidly.

‘Good morning, sir.’ Daniel stood in front of him.

fford Croft let the papers fall on the embossed leather surface of his desk. ‘Good morning. Is it, Mr Pitt? Have you anything else to report?’

‘Yes, sir. But I was wondering if Mr Kitteridge had discovered anything that would be usable. If not, I might ask his assistance.’

‘With what?’ fford Croft sat upright, shifting his considerable weight uncomfortably in the chair.

‘That depends upon what I discover in the next few days, sir. I’m hoping Miss fford Croft will assist me with an autopsy.’ Daniel replied.

fford Croft looked startled. ‘Autopsy? On whom?’

‘With the law’s permission, of course, upon Mrs Graves—’

‘For God’s sake, boy! She’s already decently dead and buried, poor soul. If you’re hoping Kitteridge can get you permission to dig her up, after the police have already done a post-mortem, you’re doomed to total failure.’

‘No, I’m not going to ask him for that,’ Daniel replied, keeping his voice as level as he could. ‘But, sir, have you wondered why her face burned so deep?’

‘No – no, I haven’t. Can it possibly matter now? What have you found? Do you really have some hope Graves is not guilty after all?’ He put his head down and raked through his hair, making it even wilder than before. ‘God in heaven, boy! That’s the last thing you need! Was it something to do with Special Branch after all?’ He met Daniel’s eyes reluctantly, his own filled with pity. ‘Do I need to take you off this case? I haven’t anyone else free, or I would never have put you in court in the first place. You’re not fit for that yet, and you’re not fit to do this. But I’ve no one else. I’m sorry . . .’

‘No, you don’t need to take me off, sir,’ Daniel said quickly. ‘And I don’t know whether Graves is guilty or not. He could be innocent. And you owe him the best chance of proving that.’

fford Croft’s eyes were round. ‘Oh! And that’s your job, is it? And blame your own father, or someone under his command? In the eyes of the public, it comes to the same thing. I’m not going to let you do that!’

‘Then let me find the truth. I’m not afraid that my father is behind it!’ That was not entirely true. The sick fear still churned in his stomach that somehow, even in mistaken duty, Pitt would be drawn into it, if only to turn the other way, to disprove evidence of collusion. ‘I’m not!’ he reiterated, not moving his eyes from fford Croft’s.