Ten Lords A-Leaping

by Ruth Dudley Edwards

  ‘Now, about Plutarch. I hope you’ve given her something decent to eat after all her labours. I worry lest your culinary standards will come as a shock after St Martha’s.’

  ‘I treat Plutarch like a cat, Jack, not as some sort of comrade on a pirate ship with whom to share the booty.’

  ‘Brute. I must send her some smoked salmon.’

  ‘What beats me is why he was carrying a tabernacle.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Brother Francis.’

  ‘Tool of his trade, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but it sits on an altar.’

  ‘Maybe he was taking it to a repair shop. I don’t know. You should have asked him.’

  ‘Some of us have a certain delicacy about asking intrusive questions.’

  ‘More fool you if you want to know the answer. Now, I must be off. Myles and I are going to see Tosca.’

  ‘That’s a busman’s holiday, isn’t it? All that death and disaster.’

  ‘Yes. But the songs are better than in real life. Give Plutarch my love and tell her I’m proud of her. Her exploits will go down in history. I’m glad I organized things so as to give her the opportunity.’

  ‘You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?’ howled Amiss. But it was too late. She had gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Recent events had made Amiss an inveterate news addict, though this evening, like most, had yielded nothing on the Lords investigation that he didn’t already know. So when he switched on the ten o’clock news, he was expecting nothing but the usual bromide about ‘massive police effort’, ‘no stones unturned’, ‘every expectation of making an early arrest’ that served for information. There was some news on the animal-activist front, however, with a protest outside the Lords for the first time since the latest murders. With the committee stage beginning the following day, they were out in force—woolly hats, cross, bearded people in anoraks. The lot. The camera lingered on the usual revolting banners and focused for a few seconds on ‘End This Torture Now’, which was held by someone curiously overdressed for such a mild night, the hair being entirely covered by a baseball cap and with a scarf muffling the face from the nose downwards. As Amiss wondered vaguely why anyone should dress his head for Arctic conditions and yet wear no gloves, he noticed something which made him leap up and rush to the telephone. Pooley was still out, but Jim Milton had just got home.

  ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘How many people have Claddagh rings and a large scratch on the same hand?’

  ‘What’s a Claddagh ring?’

  ‘Two hearts entwined.’

  ‘Hmmm. OK. I can’t think when I’ve seen one of those on a man. Fair enough. I guess we’d better have Mr Leadbetter in double quick. I’ll have to put Charlie Friel in charge, since the animal activists are his territory. He’s going to be furious his people overlooked this fellow. What’s Leadbetter like, anyway?’

  ‘No discernible personality. Wouldn’t think he’s got much guts.’

  ‘Ah well, then he won’t enjoy Charlie, poor fellow.’

  ‘You won’t finger me as the source?’

  ‘Of course not. I’ll say it was an anonymous tip-off. Thanks, Robert.’

  ‘Jim.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What’s the news on you and Ann?’

  ‘Stalemate. I’ve hardly had time to talk to her for two weeks. The time difference makes it almost impossible when I’m so busy, which—as you can imagine—hasn’t strengthened my side of the argument.’

  Amiss sighed. ‘When you do speak to her, give her my love.’

  ‘Of course. And mine to your absent lady. I don’t know why we bother with them considering that at the end of the day we end up as celibate as your Brother Francis.’

  ‘Which reminds me…’

  ‘Sorry, Robert. My mobile phone’s ringing. I’ll be in touch.’

  ***

  ‘Congratulations.’ Pooley’s excitement came through even the crackling of the answering-machine tape. ‘When they picked up Leadbetter this morning, they raided his house and found all sorts of useful devices from razor blades to detonators for the making of letter bombs, incendiary devices, and the rest of it, along with heavily scored volumes of Who’s Who, list of patrons of field sports groups, editors of hunting magazines, Country Life, and so on, at least fifty of whom have already had letter bombs in recent months. Bye.’

  There was no answer from Pooley’s office number, but Milton answered immediately.

  ‘Ellis left a message telling me what was in Leadbetter’s house.’

  ‘Encouraging, isn’t it?’

  ‘Funny. I wouldn’t have thought he was the type.’

  ‘It’s just the sort of occupation for a nervous nelly. It’s not like hand-to-hand combat, you know, wrapping these things up and sending them off.’

  ‘No, but it requires a certain lack of concern about human life, as well as a certain devil-may-care attitude to something blowing up in your own face.’

  ‘You just don’t like to believe people you know are villains.’

  ‘At least you seem to be implying you don’t think he did the business in the Lords?’

  ‘But probably made it possible for someone else to do it. I don’t know. Charlie’s still working him over but apparently he hasn’t said anything yet.’

  ‘Let me know when there’s anything.’

  ‘Ring me tomorrow lunchtime. Bye.’

  ***

  Charlie Friel was unusually subdued. ‘I can’t get any sense out of Leadbetter. He’s completely hysterical and just keeps claiming he heard nothing, saw nothing, it was nothing to do with him and he never set foot in the basement.’

  ‘Is he trying to put the blame on anyone else?’

  ‘No, he keeps screaming, “It’s impossible! Impossible!” We questioned him all night but got nowhere.’

  Knowing Friel’s sense of territory, Milton forbore to invite a rebuff by offering his services, but after a few seconds’ silence, Friel said, ‘I realize how busy you are, Jim, but do you think you could come round and have a word with him? Tell you the truth, I think we might have overfrightened him. I think it’s possible he might be more responsive to your technique than ours.’

  Milton looked at his watch. ‘OK. We’ll be round at eleven.’

  ***

  It took Milton half an hour of making soothing noises to get Leadbetter to emerge from his sobs.

  ‘That’s better. Now how about some tea?’

  The suggestion went down well. Pooley was dispatched to find a helpful warder and within five minutes—as Leadbetter took a first sip from his mug—Milton felt it safe to start the interview.

  ‘Now, Lucius, I’m not one of the Antiterrorist Squad. I’m just an ordinary policeman. They think you’re guilty of all the murders in the Lords as well as of sending those letter bombs.’ He raised his hand. ‘No, don’t get hysterical again. I’ve an open mind, so your best chance is to talk frankly to me. Otherwise, reluctantly, I shall have to hand you back to them.’ He looked at Leadbetter with what he hoped conveyed a mixture of sympathy and firmness. ‘You know they found a lot of very dangerous material, some of which looks as if it has already caused widespread injury. Did you know anything about this?’

  Leadbetter blew his nose. ‘No, I never went into the basement.’

  ‘So what was the set-up in your house?’

  Leadbetter had another gulp of tea, put his mug down, clasped his hands tightly and began with a rush. ‘When Mum died, she left me the house. I’d been living in the basement, because Mum always said it was better for us to be separate and it had a private entrance and everything, so I thought I’d move upstairs where I’d have room for my books and music, and I’d let the basement to bring me in a bit of income because you don’t get much for being a librarian.’

  ‘And when was this?’

  ‘Five years ago last week Mum died. It took me a while to clear up the house and sort everything out and, you know, get over
the way I was feeling because Mum and I were very close.’

  Milton nodded sympathetically. ‘It must have been a terrible wrench.’

  ‘Oh, it was.’ He dabbed his welling tears with a tissue. ‘But when everything was straight, I let the basement to a nice young couple and that was fine and we had no trouble at all, but then Josephine wanted me to get rid of them.’

  ‘Josephine?’

  ‘A friend.’ He blushed. ‘I met her on a Concerned Humans Against Animal Exploitation march and we got talking. I asked her home.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And…’ His eyes flickered round the room as if he were fearful that his dead mother was somewhere around. ‘Well, then she, I, we…’

  ‘Became more than friends?’ Milton wondered how someone like this could function in the 1990s.

  ‘Yes, yes. A lot more. So I wanted to marry her, but Josephine…no…I mean, she was too good for me. I think she was being kind to me really. She said what it was all about was the cause, and we shouldn’t put our selfish pleasures above that, so although I could…you know…’ He blushed again and fell into an embarrassed silence.

  Milton nodded encouragingly. ‘I quite understand, Lucius. Go on.’

  ‘Well, I mean, sometimes it was all right but what I thought was a pity was that she didn’t want to go out and do, you know, what people do, like going to restaurants or the cinema or the theatre…or even walks. No, she was very dedicated, Josephine. She said all our spare time must be given over to saving animals.’

  ‘So that’s how you became more militant?’

  ‘Well, not really. I mean, I got to know them. But I wasn’t ever really militant. I’m a pacifist. But Josephine’s friends were a bit, and I hung round with them sometimes so I could be with her.’

  You poor stooge, thought Milton—a perfect example of all those people dragged into communism, fascism, and all sorts of other unpleasant causes through misplaced trust in a hardhearted loved one.

  ‘I kept asking her to marry me, or at least move in with me, but she wouldn’t. She said if we did that we’d end up putting homemaking ahead of principle and duty. But eventually she said she would compromise and live in the basement. We’d be separate, but we’d see more of each other that way.’

  ‘So you gave notice to your tenants?’

  ‘I felt dreadful doing that, though Josephine said I was being soft. She said the convenience of others couldn’t be put before the revolution. She put it that way because she said she wasn’t just concerned about animals. To get a fair society, individuals had to make sacrifices just like we did. But there wasn’t any unpleasantness because I explained to them about Josephine and me and gave them a lot of compensation, and we’d always got on and they were nice about it. I didn’t tell Josephine how much compensation I gave them because she would have said I was soft and that the money had to go to the cause. But they found a place quick enough and she moved in three months ago.’

  ‘Did she pay rent?’

  He looked shocked. ‘Course not.’

  ‘So did you spend much time in the basement?’

  ‘I haven’t been down there since. Josephine said she had to have her own space, although she’d come up to me. So I left her in peace, and if I wanted to talk to her, I rang her and if she had time she came up.’

  ‘Did she have visitors?’

  ‘Oh yes. Lots. She’s very popular. Some of them she’d bring upstairs so we could spend time together as a group but others, whom she said were colleagues, she’d see on her own, and of course I don’t know what she was doing during the day.’

  ‘Josephine is unemployed?’

  ‘That’s right. She said she was too principled to take a job because it would come between her and her vocation.’

  ‘Do you know who her visitors were?’

  ‘The ones she introduced me to, yes. Like Bruce, Nigel, and Ken. But there were others that came round for meetings. I used to peek out of the window sometimes. I was a bit jealous. I asked her if I could come to some of the meetings, but she said not till I’d proved myself.’

  ‘And how were you to do that, Lucius?’

  ‘By showing in demonstrations that I had some bottle.’

  ‘Didn’t you realize that you were getting into something violent?’

  ‘I was mad about Josephine and I like animals. I’ve got some cats. Funnily enough that was one of the reasons Josephine gave for not living with me: she doesn’t like cats. But she said that didn’t stop her fighting for their rights.’

  ‘How commendably detached of her.’ Milton paused. ‘Just one thing before you go on. Why are you talking so freely about her? You must realize what you’re saying pins the blame firmly on her for what went on in the basement.’

  Tears came into Leadbetter’s eyes again, but then, in a stronger voice, he said, ‘Look, just because I’m gullible, it doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’ve been thinking it over, and I know she’s made a fool of me. I think Bruce was probably her fellow all the time and they just used me.’

  ‘But you could have told my colleagues this.’

  ‘I can’t talk if people shout at me. I just freeze up, and he and the others kept shouting and threatening and they might as well have gagged me.’

  ‘And you’re happy to sign this statement naming these people?’

  ‘I’m not happy.’ Leadbetter spoke with some dignity. ‘Nobody likes to be an informer. But it makes it easier when you’ve been as badly used as I think I’ve been, and by your very first girlfriend. Now, what’s going to happen to me?’

  ‘You need a good solicitor, and you need to stick to your resolve to tell the truth about your former friends. There’s a fair chance, if what you say checks out, that no charges will be made against you. But go on cooperating. If the police are on your side, things will go easier. Now, about the Lords murders. Have you any light to cast on that?’

  ‘Only that I know it wasn’t Josephine or even Bruce because we were at a meeting the night of the death ray, and there’ll be lots of witnesses. I’ll give you some names. So whatever else she is, whatever sort of Jezebel she’s been, she’s not a mass murderer and nor is he.’

  ‘Very good. I’ll leave you now with Sergeant Pooley to agree your statement. And remember, don’t panic, be helpful and if you’ve been telling the truth, you should be in the clear.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amiss spent the afternoon of the following day at the opening session of the Committee. It was a subdued affair and low in numbers for a committee of the whole House, since few peers seemed keen to get involved in this issue. The government had appointed a young hereditary peer to Lady Parsons’ job, but it was clear from his opening speech that his heart wasn’t in this bill.

  ‘If there was ever a foeman unworthy of my steel, it’s Littlejohn,’ said the baroness. ‘What a pathetic, weaselly speech about “people of goodwill”, “mutual tolerance at this tragic time” and all that claptrap. While I wasn’t looking forward to fighting my way through this bill line by line, eyeball to eyeball with Beatrice, at least it would have been invigorating. This is just plain dull.’

  ‘Poor sod is wet behind the ears. You certainly woke him up, old girl. Your announcement that in view of recent events you felt obliged on principle to oppose every clause of the bill was delivered in a masterly fashion. Littlejohn’s face creased in horror.’

  ‘What an idiot! It’s no wonder we’re in the mess we’re in if someone is appointed a minister who doesn’t understand the elementary rules of negotiation.’

  ‘Oh, be fair. He knew you used to be a civil servant. He must have thought he was dealing with someone civilized who thought in terms of level playing-fields and fair play.’

  She smirked. ‘More fool him. It’s going to wear him out, persuading our side to make compromises.’

  ‘I still don’t see how the government can avoid holding firm on hunting. After all, you simply haven’t got enough resources to wage as long a war of attriti
on as would be needed to wear them down completely.’

  ‘Don’t forget our superior cunning. You haven’t yet seen Bertie in action making concessions so sadly, so reluctantly and in such a gentlemanly way that the hardest heart will feel honour bound to give a generous quid pro quo. Besides…’ She attracted Violet’s attention and gestured towards their empty glasses. ‘That young man is still ambitious and, even if Bertie is on the other side, he’s very powerful, influential, and nobody is better connected, and he is well known to repay favours handsomely by a word in someone’s ear at the appropriate time. Thanks, Violet.’

  ‘Tonic, my lady?’

  ‘Certainly not. I never touch the stuff.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yes, please. Fill it right up. Thanks.’ He took a sip. ‘I wish you’d stop ordering large measures, Jack. I’m going to end up with cirrhosis of the liver.’

  ‘I like large measures.’

  ‘Where were we?’

  ‘I was complaining about things being dull.’

  ‘What about me? I’m going to be bored senseless. At least you’ve got some action. What do you think it’s like for me just hanging about on the sidelines, briefing your less than scintillating support team?’

  ‘You’ve certainly got a lonely job. I was more than a little taken aback to discover that I appear to be the only fox-hunting activist who has a research assistant. Not, mind you, that the other side is much better off. They’ve only got officials. None of the enemy seem prepared to splash out on researchers.’

  ‘Leadbetter told me Brother Francis had someone, but I’ve never seen him.’

  ‘Judging from the quality of the reverend gentleman’s arguments, if he’s got an assistant he’s no bloody good. Did you hear his contribution today?’

  ‘Something about the wickedness of oppressing other creatures “feathered or furred”, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yep. I think he was talking about me. Anyway, enough of this. Let’s run through the order of play for Thursday, and then I must be off to meet Myles. Do you want to come?’