Murder Most Royal

’

‘How did you get on, ma’am?’ Rozie ventured.

The Queen pursed her lips, picked up the fountain pen on her desk and fiddled with the lid.

‘I was reminded of just how strong Ned’s childhood feelings for Ladybridge must have been. On top of that, Hugh ended up marrying Ned’s girl. If it had been Ned who had killed his cousin all those years ago, it would have made sense.’

‘Lord Mundy drove away with Ned. They could have argued in the car,’ Rozie suggested, thinking it up as she went along. ‘And then . . . Could the baron have followed him to London?’

‘Only if a tenant, Flora, the vicar and an antiquarian bookseller were lying.’

‘It’s a very solid alibi.’ Rozie grinned. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m making up wild stories about people you know.’

‘No, no. It’s useful to think through the possibilities. However, Hugh and his son are not on good terms from what I see and hear, despite what Hugh would like me to believe.’

‘He was distraught when Valentine ate the wolfsbane as a child,’ Rozie pointed out.

‘Yes,’ the Queen agreed. ‘But that was a very long time ago.’

‘But Lord Mundy’s been very supportive of his son. With the whole gay marriage thing. I mean, that’s really something.’

The Queen noticed how Rozie was gaining confidence in the job, to the point of challenging one’s assumptions, which could be very useful in this sort of situation.

‘He’s such a quiet, shy sort of man. It can’t have been easy,’ Rozie went on.

‘Perhaps,’ the Queen granted. ‘I agree that it is very unusual for an old-fashioned sort of peer, shall we say, such as Hugh, to be so open to the idea. When so much is at stake.’

‘At stake, ma’am?’ Rozie asked.

‘Ask Sir Simon,’ the Queen said, cryptically. And then, more cryptically still, ‘And then, there are the dogs.’

‘The dogs?’ Rozie echoed, feeling increasingly lost.

‘Exactly,’ the Queen said. ‘The dogs are at the heart of everything. I’d like to know more about Valentine,’ she added, thoughtfully. ‘Mr Wallace’s wife was close to Lee. I wonder if she knew something. Can you see if you can dig a little deeper?’

‘In that case—’ Rozie began.

The Queen shook her head. ‘But not in the way the police imagine. I hope I’m wrong. Let me know how you get on.’

There was nothing for it. Rozie and Katie Briggs had spent the afternoon driving up the coast in Rozie’s Mini, trying to work out ways of finding out more about Laura Wallace that didn’t involve getting up at dawn in order to get freezing cold in an icy river with the Dix Dunkers.

There was little Rozie wouldn’t do for the Boss, but this remained in her ‘not if I can possibly help it’ pile.

‘You’ll love it,’ Katie said. ‘Trust me. I started wild swimming in the summer. It’s changed my life. I honestly had no energy before I started. There’s something about the cold water on your skin, what it does to your heart rate . . . It’s the most beautiful sensation.’

‘I think the active word then was “summer”,’ Rozie said. ‘If this was July, I’d happily do it. It’s January. A man literally died.’

Katie shook her head. ‘He stayed out too long, deliberately. We know that. You’d only be in the water for a few seconds.’

‘Why me?’ Rozie asked, not unreasonably. ‘You’re the wild swimmer.’

‘You know the ins and outs of it better than I do. You’ve done it before. It’d probably be safer if you went.’

Katie let out an angry sigh. ‘I just can’t. Maybe it would go OK, maybe it wouldn’t. The shock of water that freezing . . . If I overdo it, I pay the price for days. I can’t risk it. Believe me, I wish I could. Pushing through only makes it worse.’

Katie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She was clearly still struggling with talking about whatever it was. Rozie was surprised, because she literally glowed with health.

‘It’s ME,’ Katie said eventually. ‘Myalgic encephalomyelitis. I’ve had it for years. I only realised while I was doing the APS job. It practically floored me. No, it totally floored me.’

‘Chronic fatigue syndrome. The one where people say, “Is that a real thing?” and yeah. It’s a thing. Not everyone believed me, but it is.’

‘You don’t need to be. I get extreme tiredness, like just-been-hit-by-a-truck exhaustion. I can sleep for a day and not feel better. Like I say, I’d been having symptoms for a long time, but I had these coping methods for getting through. At the palace, though . . . it’s a whole new level. You can’t take time off if the Queen needs you.’

Rozie shook the thought off. ‘Only that Sir Simon said it was mental health problems. At least, I thought he did.’

Katie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, he would have done. He just saw someone stressed who wasn’t up to the job. He tried to be sympathetic, but you could see his massive frustration. It didn’t help.