Half Moon Street Read Free

speak.
    Pitt waited.
    The last mist was evaporating from the river, and the far bank was now clearly visible. The sound of traffic increased along the embankment above them.
    “ ‘Unfortunate’ is hardly an adequate word, Superintendent,” Meissonier said at last. “What an extremely distressing circumstance.”
    Pitt stood aside, and Meissonier went gingerly down the steps until he was only a couple of feet above the tide. He stopped and stared across at the body.
    “That is not Bonnard,” he said fiercely. “I am afraid I do not know this man. I cannot help you. I’m sorry.”
    Pitt studied his face, reading not only the distaste but a certain tension that was not eased by his denial of recognition. He might not have been lying, but he was certainly not telling the entire truth.
    “Are you sure, sir?” Pitt pressed.
    Meissonier swiveled towards him. “Yes, I am quite sure. The man does bear some resemblance to Bonnard, but it is not he. I had not really thought it would be, but I wished to be certain beyond doubt.” He drew in his breath. “I am sorry you were misinformed. Bonnard is not missing, he is on leave. An overzealous junior has not read his instructions fully and leaped to a wrong conclusion. I must find who it was and admonish him for raising a false alarm and—as it has turned out—wasted your time.” He bowed courteously and turned to go back up the steps.
    “Where has Monsieur Bonnard taken his leave, sir?” Pitt asked, raising his voice a little.
    Meissonier stopped. “I have no idea. We do not require such information from junior diplomats. He may have friends here in England, or have gone to visit a place of beauty or interest on his own, or for all I know he may have returned to Paris to his own family.”
    “But you came to look at the body,” Pitt persisted.
    Meissonier raised his eyebrows a little, not enough for sarcasm, just sufficient to indicate that the question was unnecessary.
    “I wished to assure myself that he had not met with an accident while leaving for his holiday. It was unlikely, but not impossible. And of course I wished to be courteous to all officials of Her Majesty’s government, with whom we enjoy the most cordial relations and whose guests we are.” It was a polite but unmistakable reminder of his diplomatic standing.
    There was nothing Pitt could do but concede. “Thank you, Monsieur Meissonier. It was most gracious of you to come, and at this hour. I am pleased it was not your countryman.” That at least was true. The last thing Pitt wished was an international scandal, and were the body that of a French diplomat, scandal would be almost impossible to avoid, although it would have been his unenviable task to try.
    Meissonier gave the same little bow as before and then climbed up the rest of the steps and disappeared. A moment later Pitt heard his carriage move away.
    The mortuary wagon came, and Pitt watched as the manacles were removed and the body was lifted up and carried away for the surgeon to examine in more detail at the morgue.
    Tellman returned with the river police, who took the punt to safeguard it. It would have to remain on the water, but be moved somehow to sufficiently shallow a place it did not sink altogether.
    “Was it the Frenchie?” Tellman asked when he and Pitt were alone on the embankment. The traffic was now heavy and moving in both directions past them. The wind had risen a little and carried the smells of salt and mud and fish, and although the day was bright, it was definitely chilly.
    “He said not,” Pitt replied. He was hungry and longing for a hot cup of tea.
    Tellman grunted. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” he said darkly. “If he’s lying, can we prove it? I mean, if he’s French, and he gets all the embassy to cover him, what can we do? We can hardly fetch all Paris over here to take a look!” He pulled his face into an expression of disgust.
    Pitt had already had his own doubts. The thought was increasingly