The Dark Palace

‘You’d better hope that doesn’t happen, Max. Or you’ll be out of a job. I shall order prints of all Waechter’s previous films. Perhaps the time has come for a Waechter retrospective. I fear that this incident may indeed have excited a morbid interest in his work among the public.’

‘Which you of course will do your best to pander to!’

‘You know what pays your wage as well as I do, Max. If we don’t get them through the door and on the seats, then you and me both will be in the workhouse.’

Max held out his hand for his newspaper. As he took it back, a brief, mechanical smile spasmed across his mouth. ‘I hope you find your dog.’ But his voice was an emotionless sing-song.

THIRTY-TWO

As Qui

Qui

Qui

He had to accept that his fear of what Grant-Sissons might say had got in the way of his conduct of the investigation. One minute the man was a suspect in the attack on the girl. The next, Qui

But he had enough acquaintance with violent death to know that whatever was behind it, it was never anything good. He did not doubt that the same would hold true with his father’s death.

When he was younger, he believed that his father had been murdered. This was the truth that he would one day prove. But Grant-Sissons had spoken categorically of suicide. Although he had consciously given up the consoling myth of his father’s i

The air temperature dropped perceptibly. The clouds huddled into a sudden mass. From nowhere, a shower of hail clattered over the pavement. Qui

The shower was over as suddenly as it had begun. The clouds began to scatter. The sun fingered its way through, the mottles of blue spreading until the sky was almost completely clear. It was like the lights going up at the end of a stage show. The weather seemed to be bowing for applause at the startling trick it had just pulled off, fishing for an encore.

Qui

The brass plaque revealed a little more than Macadam’s enquiries had been able to turn up: Augustus Casaubon, MD, FMPA.

From his own dealings with the medical profession Qui

Qui

The door led on to a marble-tiled hallway. Gilt lettering and a pointing hand symbol on a small wooden sign indicated the reception. There was no one there. Qui

At last, a stooped, elderly man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed imperial beard appeared tentatively from a door at the rear of the practice office. ‘You must bear with me. I’m all on my own today.’ The man’s accent was genteel Edinburgh. ‘My nurse is ill. And the secretary, well, we had to let her go. Between you and me, she was an absolute disaster. Take the appointments book. I have no idea what she’s done with it. Would you credit it? How on earth are we meant to run a practice without an appointments book? I hope to God she hasn’t taken it with her. Out of spite, you know. People do the most extraordinary things out of spite. It’s hardly rational, but, well … I’m used to dealing in the irrational. Very well, you’ll just have to come straight in. I shall see people today on a first-come, first-served basis.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Doctor Casaubon, of course.’

That may be the case, thought Qui

‘But … I … I am a police officer. A detective. I’m here on an investigation.’

‘Yes, of course you are. I understand. A detective.’ Dr Casaubon chuckled. ‘We’ll have a good long chat about it. We’ll sort out the paperwork afterwards.’

No, Dr Casaubon, I really am a police detective, thought Qui

THIRTY-THREE

Dr Casaubon directed Qui

‘So, how long have you been a policeman?’ The question came to him from out of the darkness. Its tone managed to be both sardonic and indulgent.

Qui

‘I really am a policeman, you know. I can show you my warrant card.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘You seem to be under the misapprehension that I am one of your patients. I don’t want to waste your time, Doctor. I am not … That is to say … I am not …’

‘What are you not?’

‘I am not …’

‘Why can’t you complete the sentence, I wonder? Could it be because you wish to say, I am not ill. But your mind, your unconscious mind, will not permit you to state this blatant lie. When were you first aware of this desire to be a policeman?’ Dr Casaubon’s intonation made it clear that, in his mind, having a desire to be a policeman was not the same thing as being a policeman.

‘I am a policeman. My name is Silas Qui

‘The Special Crimes Department?’ The psychiatrist’s tone became openly sceptical. ‘I haven’t heard of that one.’

‘I don’t wish to take up any more of your time. If you have seen the papers this morning, you may know that there was a vicious attack on a young woman in central London last night.’

Dr Casaubon’s pen scratched the darkness. ‘It was in the papers, was it?’ Qui