‘WHO IS THIS LADY EXACTLY?’ Billy Styles sipped his whisky.
‘Her name’s Ann Waites,’ Madden told him. ‘She’s a neurologist or a psychiatrist, or perhaps both, and also a professor at a college here. The chief inspector had dinner with her the night before he went up to Chipping Norton and disappeared. Professor Waites thinks he was probably rescued by another one of her guests that evening, named Julia Lesage, when she realized he was stranded by the snow. Mrs Lesage has a house in the Cotswolds not far from Chipping Norton. But I haven’t been able to call her number to see if Angus is there because the phones are down.’
Billy had come to the Randolph Hotel to join his old chief for dinner and found him waiting at a table in the lounge with a drink in front of him.
‘She also told me they had a very interesting conversation at dinner,’ Madden explained. ‘She thinks it had to do with whatever brought Mr Sinclair to Oxford, though he wouldn’t let on what that was. It’s fair to assume it was linked to this man he’s searching for and it occurred to me you might want to know why she found the conversation so interesting.’
‘You mean it could have a bearing on the Voss case.’ Billy understood. ‘Let’s hope it does. As things stand we haven’t got much to go on.’
The news he had brought with him was of the largely frustrating day which he and Morgan had spent. Although, with the help of the telephone directory and by checking local hotels and boardinghouses, the Oxford inspector had identified a number of men called Beck living in the area, all had proved to be respectable citizens with no connection to the individual who had hired a car from Alf Hutton.
‘About the only good news I’ve got is that Charlie is sending me some reinforcements,’ he told Madden. He was referring to his superior, who in his earlier days had been dubbed with the nickname Cheerful Charlie. ‘He wants this bloke Beck found, and tomorrow won’t be soon enough. Lily Poole is coming down from London to join me.’
‘That would be Detective Sergeant Poole?’ Madden said, and Billy nodded with a grin.
‘Lil finally got her promotion,’ he said, ‘and about time too. Mind you, it’s put a few backs up in London, I can tell you. But what am I going to do with her when she arrives, is what I’m wondering. Where do we start? It’s not even a case of looking for a needle in a haystack. I mean, where’s the haystack, never mind the needle?’
Madden nodded in sympathy.
‘About this conversation they had at that dinner,’ Billy said, ‘did Professor Waites give you any hint what it was about?’
Madden shook his head. ‘I tried to get it out of her, but she was too cagey. She made it clear she wanted to talk to me in person. She told me she had engineered Angus’s invitation to Hampshire just so she could meet him. She’s one of those people still fascinated by the Melling Lodge murders and she knew I was involved in that case. In the end I decided the easiest way of learning what we want to know was to invite her to join us this evening.’
‘I’m glad you did, sir.’ Billy smiled. ‘Although it was the Kriminalkommissar I was expecting to meet.’ He seemed to enjoy saying the word. ‘Mr Probst is staying at the hotel, isn’t he?’
Madden nodded. ‘But we both decided it might be best if he remained in the background for the time being. I’ve a feeling Professor Waites would be more than interested to discover that a German detective had turned up in Oxford and it’s likely she’d relay the information to others. She already knows all I’m trying to do is locate Angus and get him back to Highfield and I can quite truthfully introduce you as an old friend and colleague who’s here on police business.’ He scowled at Billy. ‘And, incidentally, one who I’ve told more than once to stop calling me “sir”.’
Billy chuckled. He hadn’t yet managed to bring himself to address his old mentor by his first name. ‘I’m working on it,’ he said, ‘sir.’
Madden shook his head in mock despair.
‘To be serious for a moment, it could be that whatever Professor Waites has to tell us may be of use to you and Tom Morgan. In that case you’ll have to decide how frank you want to be with her: whether you’ll let on that the police are taking an active interest this affair.’
Sober now, Billy nodded. ‘I won’t decide till I hear what she has to say.’
‘That might be best. And you won’t have long to wait.’
Madden had just caught sight of a woman, dressed in a skirt and blouse topped by a jacket, who was threading her way between the tables towards them.
‘If I’m not mistaken, there she is now.’
‘Tell me about this cuff link,’ Madden said. ‘Was it your impression that Mr Sinclair felt it was important?’
‘On the whole I’d say yes.’ She spoke at last. ‘But I should add that only became obvious at the end.’
‘The end . . . ?’
‘. . . of the discussion we’d been having. It was quite lighthearted and began when I teased Mr Sinclair about being on some mysterious mission.’ She smiled. ‘As I told you, I’d seen him a few days earlier in Hampshire and I remembered him saying he was going straight home to Highfield from there. Instead I happened on him by chance. He rather deftly avoided our questions at dinner by producing the cuff link and saying here was a mystery if we wanted one. He wondered if any of us knew what the design signified.’
‘Describe it again, would you?’
Madden caught Billy’s eye. It was not until they finished their meal and were drinking the last of the wine that they’d finally got onto the subject of the dinner conversation and what bearing it might have had on the chief inspector’s visit to Oxford. Instead Madden had been obliged to recount the part he had played in a murder investigation now nearly three decades old and, more generally, to share with the professor his thoughts about the dangerous psychopath he and Sinclair had finally tracked down. Ann Waites had been surprised—and delighted—to discover that his other guest had also been involved in the case, something she hadn’t been aware of, but her attempts to provoke a reaction from Billy had got nowhere.
‘Oh, I was just Mr Madden’s dogsbody,’ he told her cheerfully.
‘Come now, Billy, that’s not true,’ Madden chided him.
‘Fetching and carrying. That was my job. I was as green as they come.’ Billy laughed. ‘But I’ll say this for myself: I grew up quickly.’
‘And what brings you to Oxford now, Inspector?’ Professor Waites asked. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve also come in search of Mr Sinclair.’
‘Lord, no.’ Billy brushed the notion aside. ‘I’m here on ordinary police business. But it came as a nice surprise to run into Mr Madden. We’ve always kept in touch and I was interested to hear that Mr Sinclair had gone missing, if I can put it that way. I worked under him for years. But we’re not looking for him. He’ll turn up.’
Whether the professor had swallowed Billy’s attempt to pull the wool over her eyes was open to question, or so Madden felt. As a former psychiatrist she had probably been told more than her share of tall stories and knew flannel when she heard it. But she had allowed Billy’s explanation of his presence in Oxford to go unchallenged and after they went into dinner and Madden raised the issue he was interested in, she had proved more than ready to satisfy his curiosity.
‘The snake on the cuff link was what fascinated us,’ she said now, ‘but it wasn’t until another of my guests explained what it meant that Mr Sinclair began to show real interest. He’s a curator at the Pitt Rivers Museum called Andrew Fielding. He recognized the design as being Aztec in origin. The snake was part of a double-headed serpent, he said, and the missing half must be on the other cuff link. The original objects were bigger and worn by Aztec priests; the cuff link was probably a piece of costume jewellery, or part of it. He thought the piece when it was whole might have been a pendant worn by a woman, or perhaps, if it was already cut into two pieces, a pair of earrings. Why it should have been made into cuff links, though, was anyone’s guess.’
‘Aztec, you say?’ Madden was frowning. ‘So it could have been made in Mexico?’ He was remembering the cryptic jottings he had read in Sinclair’s notebook.
‘That was suggested,’ Professor Waites agreed.
‘And was it at that point that Angus began to take the matter seriously?’
The professor regarded him, head cocked to one side.
‘Yes, now that you mention it, I think it was,’ she replied after a longish moment. ‘But I don’t see how that will help you find him. Unless there’s more to this than meets the eye.’
‘More to this?’ Madden did his best to look baffled. ‘No, it’s simply that I find the whole business of the cuff link fascinating . . . just as you did.’ He signalled to a nearby waiter to fill their wineglasses. ‘Angus left some notes in his room here. They included a reference to Mexico and I wondered what that meant.’
Swirling her wine about in her glass Professor Waites appeared to weigh his words.
‘Let me put the question another way, then,’ she said. ‘What exactly is your friend Mr Sinclair up to? What brought him hotfoot to Oxford?’
‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Because he half admitted that he was on the trail of something, only he wouldn’t tell us what it involved. He said it was confidential. After Andrew Fielding had explained about the origin of the cuff link design I asked Mr Sinclair if it had solved his mystery for him. “Believe me, if I knew I’d tell you.” That was his answer. So you see, the mystery, whatever it was, remained unsolved.’
She took a sip of her wine.
‘I wish I could help you.’ Madden spread his hands. ‘I’ve no doubt he came here for a reason, but since Helen and I were away when he went to stay with the Bennetts, I haven’t had a chance to speak to him. As I told you when we talked before, my wife is his doctor and she’s concerned for his health. What I want to do is track him down and take him back to Highfield—in irons, if necessary, was how Helen put it.’
Professor Waites laughed lightly.
‘That was a masterly piece of misdirection, Mr Madden,’ she said. ‘I’ve seldom heard a subject changed so skilfully, and believe me I’ve dealt with some artful patients in my time.’ Her smile seemed to suggest no offence had been taken. ‘But to bring you up to date, I should tell you I’ve sent a message of sorts to Julia Lesage via an intermediary. It was to ask her if Mr Sinclair was staying with her and if so to let him know that you’re here in Oxford trying to discover his whereabouts.’
‘How on earth did you do that?’ Still coming to terms with what she had said a moment before, Madden was startled anew. ‘I know the phone line is still down. I tried myself to ring her this evening, and so far as I’m aware the road to the village where she lives is still blocked.’
‘A gentleman by the name of Philip Gonzales came down from London by train this morning. He rang me to ask if I had any news of Julia and when I told him she was cut off by the snow he announced his intention of going up to Great Tew immediately. He said he would take the bus as far as Enstone and then walk the rest of the way. I was somewhat taken aback. Granted, he’s an ardent admirer of hers—in fact, he’s asked her to marry him—but all the same I thought he might have waited a day or two until the road was cleared. But it was obvious he was determined to get there as quickly as possible and I wondered why.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, he was the bearer of my message and if it truly is love that’s spurring him on I’m sure he’ll have got there somehow.’
Madden had been studying her face as she spoke.
‘I get the impression you don’t entirely approve of him,’ he said.
‘You policemen!’ She laughed. ‘That was exactly what Mr Sinclair said when I told him about Philip.’ She hesitated, choosing her words. ‘My concern has to do with Julia,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t want to see her hurt. Mr Gonzales’s intentions towards her are no clearer to me than his background, which is . . . well, shall we say murky?’
‘In what way?’ Madden was intrigued.
‘He appears to have lived a wandering life and has many amusing stories to tell of his experiences in far-flung places. But he never quite comes into focus, if you know what I mean.’ Professor Waites frowned. ‘I’m not even sure where he was born, and if he has any family I’m not aware of it. None of which seems to bother Julia, I might add.’ She shook her head.
‘But enough of that.’ She gathered herself. ‘Would it be very rude of me if I left you two to finish your wine? I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I ought to get home. I promise to let you know if I hear anything from Julia.’ She addressed these last words to Madden. ‘And thank you for a very enjoyable evening.’
The two men rose to bid her goodnight.
Billy waited until their guest was out of earshot.
‘I reckon she read us,’ he said.
‘Like a book,’ Madden agreed.
‘What she told us about the cuff link was interesting, though.’ Billy sipped his wine. ‘The connection with Mexico, I mean. It seems to tie in with what Mr Probst was saying about Voss’s background. No wonder Mr Sinclair was puzzled by it. He’d got it into his head that this bloke he was after might be a war criminal.’
Madden’s grunt seemed to signal his agreement. But it was plain his thoughts were elsewhere. Billy studied his old chief’s face. Something was bothering him.
‘This Julia Lesage person, with her house in the Cotswolds and her chauffeur-driven Bentley—does she sound like a wealthy woman to you?’
‘I’d say so,’ Billy responded cautiously.
‘Do you think it’s worth checking on this fellow Gonzales?’
Billy’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
‘You mean, could he be the same bloke we’re after? Could he be Voss? That would be some kind of coincidence.’
Madden said nothing.
‘Do you really think it’s possible, sir?’
‘No, I think it’s highly unlikely.’ Madden laughed. ‘But you were saying something earlier about needles and haystacks and the thought came to mind.’
‘With the chief inspector just happening to be a guest there?’
‘You’re right. It wasn’t a serious suggestion. You’d best forget it.’
‘No, no . . . you’ve got me interested now.’ Billy finished his wine. ‘Tell you what—I’ll give the Yard a call tomorrow and see if we’ve got anything on record about him. You never know. Philip Gonzales—that was the name she gave us, wasn’t it?’