At home in her parents’ flat in Bloomsbury, Steel was on the phone with the prosecutor of Adam Tatum’s attempted murder case. It was ten o’clock at night in London. One full week after the bombing at Number 10 there was a suspect, that was clear, but the motive was missing. Nothing seemed to make sense to her: Tatum’s involvement, Heaton’s involvement. Neither seemed to be sitting up straight yet. She wanted to download as much information from the US prosecutor as possible, learn as much about Tatum as she could.
While she spoke, her mother brought in a pot of tea and sat across the coffee table from her in her bathrobe, listening to the whole conversation. She watched closely as Steel took notes, probed, asked more questions, and rummaged through a small mountain of papers and many more files on her laptop. It seemed all very exciting to Sheena Steel, so utterly different from her dreary life in the sandwich café.
When Steel finally hung up, her mother sat there, beaming.
“What’s gotten you?” Steel asked her mother playfully.
“You’re sharp as a tack, girl, that’s a given. You could be a Georgia Turnbull yourself now, couldn’t you?”
“That’s the last thing I’d want then, isn’t it?”
“What? Come on, I thought you’d thought the world of Georgia Turnbull?”
“I do, but I’d never want to be in politics.”
“Maybe something in business then, with that head on you? Maybe you’ll be a lady of finance somewhere.” She sipped her tea and looked at her daughter, as smitten as she could be.
“I like what I’m doing. It’s just fine.”
“I know that, baby. It’s just, how long can you do this kind of a thing without it, you know, getting to you? All the killings and the bombings that you’re needing to be sorting through. It’s bound to take a toll. I worry about you.”
“Well, don’t waste the worry. I love what I do. It’s a puzzle. I’m putting the puzzles together. I enjoy it, Mum. You know I do.”
Sheena smiled and nodded. “Tell me about this one then, this puzzle?”
Steel looked at her sweet mum’s face. She had held her away long enough. She wanted to let her in a bit, maybe show off a little. She leaned closer.
“I’ve just found another clue, another piece. Not sure yet where it fits. Number one, he didn’t want to kill the governor in Michigan. He never even planned on it. They didn’t know the governor was in the mansion when they broke in. He’s not a killer.”
“Go on then.” Sheena’s eyes were wide with curiosity.
“The whole thing was an amateur’s prank. He isn’t even close to a terrorist, this one. It was cheap theatrics. It was a misguided stunt gone bad.”
“Then why come all the way here and place a bomb in Number 10? He obviously planned on the PM to be home, that’s for sure, and he was.” Sheena was getting into it now, loving the fact that Davina was including her.
“Here’s the thing, Mum. All four of their plane tickets were purchased together. From here in London.”
“So maybe someone framed him up? I like that. It’s juicy. Someone else placed the bomb and this fellow takes the fall. I saw this in a Dirk Bogarde film once.”
“Sometimes a puzzle piece fits; sometimes you jam it in and you lose view of the bigger picture. Maybe he did try to do this. Maybe he’s just rotten to the core, or loony bin–bound. One doesn’t know until you know. It doesn’t feel like it to me, though. Why would he bring his family to London if he was coming here to murder the PM? It hints to me of another piece of the puzzle.”
Sheena sat up. Shook her head as she thought it all through. Steel looked over to her mother who suddenly had a big silly smile on her face.
“What’s on your mind now, you daft goofy thing?”
“I’m just proud. That’s all, Davina, my love. As proud as any mum could ever possibly be.”