There was no real answer to that. Was the editor of a provincial newspaper in any sense responsible for what his staff did on their days off? ‘But it wasn’t a bloody day off, was it?’ the editor had said. ‘Chris Logan is on the company payroll, using company time and company funds. When you find ...
The women were tending a large pot of stew over the campfire and the smoke was drifting lazily across the Hertfordshire fields, snaking to the east and the cluster of villages known as the Pelhams. The pretty girl with the red hair smiled at Marlowe and he smiled back. The older ones crouched aro...
The face too was a blur, a badly focused camera, a shadow of a shadow. It had long hair, he was sure of that, and smelt of a warm tent in the summers of his childhood. ‘Ow!’ Ever the master of wit and repartee was Peter Maxwell. ‘Steady,’ the voice was clearer now. ‘You’ve had a nasty bump on the...
There was a woman with him, DS Carpenter. They left the car under the limes, Hall carrying a briefcase, Jacquie a tape recorder. Sheffield was waiting for them in his study. ‘I’ve put you in here.’ He led them into a side office. ‘You shouldn’t be disturbed and as you see, there’s a door of your ...
The day’s market was almost over and Henry Skirrow had places to be. He hurried up the rope ladder, his pattens clattering on the swaying boards, and disappeared below decks to where Master Vaughan sat with his companions. Skirrow took off his hat, passed the letter to Vaughan and waited. &...
Inspector McBride had missed Peter Maxwell who had in turn missed breakfast. At her door in the wee wee hours, Sally Greenhow had decided to tackle the Luton lot on what they knew. She’d start, over breakfast, with Alan Harper-Bennet. Maxwell would have a go at the St Bede’s contingent. It didn’t...
The hour had been called, on that chill, cheerless night, by the square’s Charlie, Thomas Smart, as he hobbled by with his lantern and his staff – ‘seven o’clock and all’s well.’ All was well – for now. Arthur Thistlewood recognized the Londonderry arms painted on the carriage door and he knew th...
Five days ago. When it was raining. It was still raining. But he wouldn’t put it off any longer. Maxwell had grabbed a bite at the Nag; something they’d chalked up on a board as Navarin of Lamb, but it could have been anything. Still, they drew a decent pint at the Nag and it gave him time to mar...
Christopher Marlowe checked the purse at his hip to make sure he still had the ring there, the one he’d appropriated from Gerald Skelton’s study. The pale sun shone on the whitewashed circular towers and glinted on the fleurs-de-lys wrought in gold-flecked iron above the roof. No one challenged h...
Along Holborn the people lined the route, bareheaded and silent, the brave few crossing themselves as the coffin passed, watching the dead man’s cousins and his friends struggling under the weight. A pale sun gilded his arms, the cloth of gold dazzling on the canopy and the tabards of the heralds...
They were not only conjurors and tumblers, they bought old rags and bones which they traded along their route with paper makers and glue renderers. Picking over the rags for anything wearable was a job for the children while the carts were on the road and many a fluttering ribbon on their clothes...
Walter Dew, constable of the Metropolitan Police, lounged on Lestrade’s desk in front of him, until the inspector swept in, whereupon the aforesaid Dew swept away to busy himself with the filing. Beeson stood to attention as his old guv’nor came in. ‘Hello, Beastie,’ grinned Lestrade. ‘I’d shake ...
The other Parker scholars were whimpering in their cubicles as the reality of morning began to bite. The dawn chorus which had awoken Marlowe had not been the light twittering of the swallows returning to the eaves above his window; it had been the internal rumblings and crashings of his room-mat...
Jacquie had walked into the foyer to be met with a scene from Dante’s Inferno. People were yelling, people were crying. There was a lot of posturing, strutting, arm throwing and general alpha male behaviour. She waited for a moment in the doorway and then resorted to response 7.1.1.a in the lates...
Through the pillow, Maxwell could just hear her muttering ‘No, no and hell no!’ Could it be that bad if she was attempting a take-off of Will Smith in Men in Black? He risked a question. ‘Anyone I know?’ He leaned back, ready for the reply but she was too tired to rise to it. ‘Mollie Adamson’s ha...