A Royal Pain (20 page)

“Lady Georgiana.” He gave a small, correct bow. “I am sorry to trouble you again today.”

“That’s perfectly all right, Chief Inspector. This is Her Highness, the Princess of Bavaria. Highness, may I present Chief Inspector Burnall of Scotland Yard.”

I just prayed she wouldn’t say, “Hiya baby,” or worse still, “Wotcha?”

She said nothing, but returned his bow with a gracious nod.

“Please be seated.” I indicated the sofa and armchairs.

“I’m sure you realize, Lady Georgiana, that this was a very unfortunate incident that took place at the bookshop this morning.”

“It is always tragic when someone dies,” I said. “Especially someone so young and with such a promising future before him.”

“Uh—quite.” He paused, as if not quite sure how to proceed.

“I have been briefed on this matter by Inspector Sugg and I understand that you, Princess, discovered the body.”

“I did,” she said. “Because I went up the stairs ahead of Lady Georgiana.”

“The victim was lying in one of the side alcoves where the lighting was very poor,” Chief Inspector Burnall went on. “So I wonder how you happened to discover the body so soon after you went upstairs. You did say that you came upon it almost immediately, didn’t you?”

“She discovered it because the knife was left lying on the floor. The princess kicked it, wondered what it was, and picked it up. Then she looked beyond and saw something lying there that proved to be the body.”

“I’d prefer that the princess answer her own questions,” the inspector said.

“I came right behind her,” I said.

“And saw what?”

“I found her holding the knife, looking utterly shocked.”

“Which brings us to an interesting question,” Burnall said, looking hard at me. “Why did the killer drop the knife on the floor?”

“I suppose he had to leave in a hurry,” I said. “I gather that Mr. Solomon only left the shop for a minute to deliver a book across the alleyway. If the killer had been in the shop, hiding, he would have seen this as an opportunity, rushed upstairs to catch Mr. Roberts unaware, then run out again before Mr. Solomon returned. Obviously he couldn’t be seen running down a street with a bloody knife.”

“Another interesting point,” Burnall said. “The beggar who sat on the corner saw nobody running away just before you ladies arrived.”

“Then the killer must have fled by another route.”

“As far as we can tell, there is no other route,” Burnall said. “It is a blind alley, of course. There is an attic, with a small window through which an athletic person could squeeze onto the roof tiles . . .”

“There you are, then,” I said.

Burnall shook his head. “An athletic and daring person could then negotiate the steep pitch of the roof but would have to leap six feet across to a similar rooftop.”

“So escape across the rooftops would have been possible,” I said.

“Yes, but not probable. From the amount of dust in the attic, it would appear that the window has not been opened recently.”

“Well, we saw nobody,” I said. “And we saw and heard nothing when we came into the shop.”

“And yet Mr. Solomon stated that the murder could have only taken place moments before.”

“That’s right,” I said. “The stain on his white shirt was still spreading, and he was still warm.”

“Which brings me to the next interesting question,” Burnall said. “Exactly what you two young ladies were doing at the shop in the first place.”

“We’ve already been through this once,” I said, fighting to control my irritation. A lady never shows her emotions, as my governess chanted to me many times, but I’d already gone through enough today that they were horribly near the surface. “Her Highness ran into an acquaintance at the British Museum yesterday. He invited her to come and see the place where he worked.”

“You had met him previously where?” Burnall asked.

“In the park and then at a party,” Hanni said.

“How long have you been in England, Your Highness?”

Hanni wrinkled her delicate little nose. “One week.”

“So in one week you’ve certainly seen plenty of action. You’ve been at a party where a man falls off a balcony. You’ve met a young man in the park, and again at the British Museum, and gone to his place of employment only to find him dying on the floor.” He crossed his legs as he leaned closer to her. “I don’t know about your country, but things in England usually tend to be a lot tamer than that.”

“What means tamer?” Hanni asked.

“I mean that life goes on here at a sedate pace, with little violence or excitement. Is that not true, your ladyship?”

“Usually, yes.”

“So how do you explain that this current outbreak of apparentgangsterism has coincided with the arrival of Her Highness?”

Oh, dear. I wish he hadn’t said that. Until that moment it had never occurred to me to link together Hanni’s love of American gangster films with any of the strange things that had happened to us. I ran through the various events of the week quickly in my mind. The fall from the balcony— Hanni had been nowhere in sight. And as for stabbing somebody—well, that was plain ridiculous. For one thing she wouldn’t have had time. I came up the stairs right after her. And for another, she had looked absolutely shocked. And for a third, why would she want to stab a harmless young man she thought was attractive?

“You’re not suggesting that Her Highness is a gangster in disguise, are you, Chief Inspector?” I asked.

He gave a nervous half laugh, half cough. “Good Lord, no. But you must admit it does seem a rum coincidence.”

“I agree that it does, but a coincidence it is, I assure you. You can’t for a moment think that either of us had anything to do with Mr. Roberts’s murder.”

“I have to pursue the facts, your ladyship,” he said.

“Then I suggest you extract fingerprints from the weapon and go after the criminal whose fingerprints they match, rather than upsetting us.”

“Ah,” he said. “Now that is an interesting fact. There are only two sets of fingerprints on the weapon, and they are yours.”

“That doesn’t completely surprise me,” I said. “If someone can slip in unnoticed, kill quickly and silently, then he is obviously a professional and as such would have worn gloves.”

Burnall nodded. “Not a bad observation, because we do rather suspect that it was the work of a trained assassin. One quick thrust between the third and fourth ribs up into the heart, then the weapon is instantly withdrawn to allow the blood to flow freely. The poor chap probably didn’t know what had hit him. Death would have been instantaneous.”

Hanni gave a little gasp of horror. “Please don’t,” she said. “It is too awful. I can’t stop thinking about it. Poor Sidney, lying on the floor, and all that blood.”

“Do you need to go on with this?” I demanded. “You’re upsetting the princess and I’m feeling a little queasy myself.”

“Just a few more questions, and then I’ll leave you in peace,” he said. “I’m interested to know just why you were keen to visit this young man at the bookshop.”

“It was Her Highness’s wish to do this.”

“And is Her Highness keen on books then?” His smile was close to a smirk. I found myself wondering whether policemen are hired for their annoying expressions or whether they develop them during the course of their employment.

“Her Highness was rather keen on the young man, I believe,” I said, giving Hanni a reassuring smile. “He was very presentable and a thoroughly nice chap too.”

“That being the case, why not meet him somewhere more suitable? A tearoom, or lunch in a more respectable part of the city.”

“Had we known exactly where the bookstore was, I think we might have not chosen to visit him there,” I said. “But I am not yet familiar with the various neighborhoods of the city.”

“I ask the question,” Burnall said slowly, “because of the nature of the bookshop. It may sell old books, but it is also an unofficial meeting place of those with strong leftist leanings. You might have seen the leaflets and the posters on the walls.”

“We did,” I said.

“And this Mr. Sidney Roberts. You say he was a thoroughly nice chap and yet it may surprise you to know that he was a card-carrying, fully paid up member of the Communist Party. An active member at that. He spent the last year organizing labor unions, strikes and marches as well as writing a regular column for the
Daily Worker
.”

“We did know he was a communist,” I said. “The first time we met him was at Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park. He was passing out communist leaflets.”

“And you thought this was a noble cause? You were about to hand over your castle and go to live among the masses, were you?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, giving him my best Queen Victoria stare. I was not her great-granddaughter for nothing. “As I said, it was Princess Hannelore who wanted to meet him again and her motives were based more on his appearance than his political beliefs.”

“There will be an inquest, of course,” Burnall said. “Which presents a tricky problem.” He paused, staring at the princess. “Your Highness probably doesn’t realize what a mess you have plunged us into. It can’t have occurred to you that back at your home in Germany the communists and the fascists are deadly rivals. The fascists have won the power for now, but it could possibly still go either way. The communists are working hard to create an upheaval so that they can seize power.”

“It’s not as if we were planning to join the Communist Party, Chief Inspector,” I said. “And anyway, I always understood that one of the benefits of living in England was that it was a free country, where one can express one’s opinion, however silly and extreme, with no worries about recourse from the authorities. Is that no longer true?”

“Of course,” he said. “But we are not concerned with England here. We are concerned with Germany. You must know that there is a delicate balance at the moment between the fascist far right and the communists. There is also a strong movement afoot in Bavaria to restore Her Highness’s father to his throne, thus making him a force against the Nazis. When the news reaches Germany that the princess has been in cahoots with communists, I’m afraid the German regime will see this as a confrontation—an attempt to undermine the government. World wars have been started on less.”

I laughed uneasily. “You’re trying to tell us that Germany might declare war because the princess went to a communist bookshop to meet a young man?”

“Who was found dead. She may be implicated in the crime.”

“Of course she’s not implicated in the crime. This is ridiculous,” I snapped.

“Georgie, does this man think that I was the one who killed Sidney?” Hanni asked in a frightened voice. “I do not know how to stab somebody, and I liked Sidney. I wanted a chance to talk with a young man, away from court, away from baroness, who always says no. At home there is always someone to tell me what I must do and what I must say. Here I thought I was free.”

“There you have your answer, Chief Inspector,” I said. “Her Highness has just emerged from an education in the convent. She is eighteen years old. Speaking to young men is a novelty to her. As for Mr. Roberts’s killer, you said yourself that the fascists and communists are at each other’s throats. We witnessed that in Hyde Park the other day. A horrid clash with the blackshirts. Maybe you should be looking for your murderer among their ranks.”

“Trust me, we shall be leaving no stone unturned in our investigation, your ladyship,” Burnall said. He stood up. “Thank you for your time. As I said, you will probably be required to give evidence at the inquest. Please do not think of leaving London. You will be notified when it will take place.”

With that he gave a curt nod and rose to leave.

Chapter 21

“This is not good, Georgie,” Hanni said. “My father will get his knickers in a twist when he hears of it.”

“His knickers in a twist? Where did you hear that?”

“Your cook. Mrs. Huggins. She said, ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist’ to your butler when he was upset. I like this expression. What means it exactly?”

“Something you don’t want to know. One does not mention underwear in public, especially not in royal circles.”

A flicker of enjoyment crossed Hanni’s face. “Okeydokey,” she said. “But my dad will still be angry. He will tell me to come straight home.”

“I am going to see the queen,” I said. “She’ll decide what we should do next.”

“Oh, swell. I like visits to palace. I will come with you.”

“I rather think not, this time. It might be awkward as we discuss your future. You should go to Baroness Rottenmeister for now. I’ll take you there myself.”

“Everything has gone wrong,” Hanni said.

“Now perhaps you see that your gangsters did not live such glamorous lives,” I couldn’t resist saying.

“I wish I had machine gun, then I’d shoot head off those horrible policemen,” Hanni said.