Murder Most Royal

The poor boy looked chalk-white with lack of sleep. She had seen him this way at the stables, too. At the time, it seemed natural that he should be anxious about his aunt and his little sister; now she wondered if it was something more.

‘How is Mrs Raspberry?’ she asked. ‘Is there any news?’

Arthur looked astonished to be asked.

‘She came out of the coma a couple of days ago, ma’am. But she’s got no memory of that day. She’s covered in bruises. Dad didn’t want us to go and see her, but we had to. I mean we wanted to.’

‘Well done. I’m sure it must have been very comforting for her.’

‘She looked . . . bad, ma’am. Thin. Her face all purple and yellow . . . And, you know, tubes and things.’

‘Give her time. She’ll heal. She might lose her confidence a little,’ the Queen added, having seen enough riding accidents to know. ‘But you can help her by keeping her company. I sense you’ll be good at it.’

‘Er, OK. I’m not sure about that.’ The troubled look on his face was evidence of a confidence crisis of his own.

‘I’ve been thinking about your sister’s discovery on the beach,’ the Queen went on.

She saw his whole body tense. ‘What, ma’am? I mean, why? I mean . . .?’

‘I wondered if she had gone there alone that day. It’s a very long walk to Snettisham from West Newton. That is where you live, isn’t it?’

‘So I wondered if someone had driven her. And they might have been on the beach with her. And they might have seen . . . all sorts of things . . . while they were there. Before the police arrived, I mean.’

The poor boy was practically blue. The Queen had considered that it was three to one she was probably wrong, but now it was odds-on she had pictured the scene correctly.

‘I-I dunno. Maybe someone drove,’ he said. ‘I can ask.’

‘Do you drive, Arthur?’

He tried to swallow. His throat was dry. ‘I . . . Sometimes.’

‘Around that time, a packet of drugs went missing from the bag that washed up. The police know, because of the way the bag was packed. You’ve probably heard about it because I understand they’ve been trying to track it down.’

‘. . . But it was early in the morning, so perhaps they didn’t. Anyway, whoever found the bag acted rashly, on the spur of the moment. They made a very stupid choice. Perhaps they were coerced.’

‘I don’t know what you’re—’

Arthur’s mobile face was a picture of panic. If he was seeking to go into a life of crime, he was singularly ill-equipped for it. The Queen carried on.

‘On Sunday, I’ll be attending the eleven o’clock service at Flitcham. My protection officers always sweep it very thoroughly before I arrive. If something were to be left there anonymously, it would be found. I think it belongs with the rest of the contents of that bag, in police custody, out of harm’s way,’ she rounded up. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I like to give people second chances, but not third ones. I’m glad we’ve had this little chat, Arthur.’

He stared at her wordlessly, before accidentally curtseying and bolting for the yard.

‘Will he do it?’ Rozie asked.

They were supposed to be discussing the Queen’s calendar. Rozie had noticed some interesting potential issues with the schedule. However, as so often during this visit, they had got sidetracked.

‘We shall see. I might have got the wrong end of the stick,’ the Queen said. ‘He couldn’t have been looking at me like that out of politeness. But I think so. Yes?’

‘I just can’t believe . . .’

Rozie said it as respectfully as she could, but she still couldn’t finish the sentence. The Queen could tell she didn’t believe one might suspect someone had stolen a packet of drugs, and was giving them a get-out clause.

‘If I’m right about him, and the packet were to be discovered, his career will be quite over before it’s begun. He’s a promising groom and a hopeless criminal. I really don’t think it was his idea.’

‘If it was someone else’s,’ Rozie said, ‘won’t they mind when the drugs are handed in?’

The Queen had considered this. ‘He can truthfully say he didn’t have a choice. And nobody has lost out – the drugs were found accidentally, after all. But I certainly don’t want one of my employees hanging on to them.’

‘No, ma’am. I see that.’

‘I do hope he has the good sense to wipe his fingerprints off the packet. Anyway, enough of that. How have you got on?’

‘Katie has some good news,’ Rozie said.

‘She tried to see Mrs Raspberry in the hospital but it was impossible,’ Rozie said. ‘She’s on a special ward and visitors are tightly controlled. She’s pretty safe for now.’

‘Thank goodness. What else?’

‘I’ve made some progress. Not the type you were hoping for, though, ma’am.’

Rozie realised this had become a bit of a refrain. She told the Queen about the discovery of the dented Freelander.