He was speaking to his two trusted allies (only did one trust anyone in this game?), Phoebe Astley and Archie Young. It was late morning, and the room, his inner office, was full of a reluctant sunshine, with the rain clouds still hanging in the sky. Earlier Stella had sent round two bowls of sweet-smelling flowers, carnations and roses, to give him pleasure when back at work. Say it with flowers, that was Stella. An ignoble thought, he told himself. Then with a wry smile: Not my season for being noble. ‘But Barrow Street again.’ Although there was no identification in the handbag on the victim in the car park, a passport as well as an airline ticket had been found tucked inside her jacket. Henriette Duval, and an address in Versailles. With a telephone number scribbled in pencil on a piece of paper. When the police, in the shape of DS Davley, rang that number, Mary Arden answered. Both parties recognized each other’s voice. Tony Davley had not enjoyed the conversation. Handing over the death sentence is never agreeable.
