‘Might do. The killer could be one of the crooks who found out they were about to be identified. Or it could be someone Davy was working on the scheme with. Thieves falling out.’
‘Someone else in property, you mean. Someone Davy argued with. Someone like … Rob Wallace?’
‘Could be.’
‘Amazing. Well done, everybody. Jonny for finding all that. Elle for finding Sir Simon earlier. Em for putting up with me all day.’
‘OK, enough Oscars stuff,’ says Elle. ‘What’s tomorrow?’
‘Well,’ Em says, ‘there’s the Balham Brats AGM, which was clearly important enough that Davy was going to try and attend even with this hanging over him.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Oh, sorry, Jonny, you didn’t come and get crêpes. Neither did you, Elle. Take a look at this.’
The pair of them read theSouth London Newspiece on Em’s phone.
‘Wait a second,’ says Jonny. ‘Wallace is here. Would you go to a meeting with someone you thought was trying to kill you?’
‘Depends on the biscuits.’
‘Be serious.’
‘All right, no, I suppose I wouldn’t,’ I say. ‘But he might have put it in his diary before he was afraid for his life. Who were last year’s attendees again, apart from Davy and Wallace?’
‘Let’s see,’ says Elle. ‘OK, we have an MP, a senior police officer, and a fifth guy, Ben Westcott, who seems to have no achievements at all beyond his name. That’s it. Just five blokes allegedly running this charity and having a nice lunch once a year.’
‘We should go along,’ says Em.
‘That’s your answer for everything.’
‘We should, though. It’s obvious.’
‘Well it can’t be me who goes,’ I say.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I sat in Wallace’s office pretending to be a reputation manager. He didn’t seem like a genius but I think he might just about clock me if he sees me again.’
‘I can handle it,’ says Em. She gives me an arch little look. ‘If Al wants the day off.’
25
The Bombardier is almost a fantasy pub. If George Orwell had drunk here, he’d never have named his dream place the Moon Under Water, and half the crummy chain pubs in the country would now be called the Bombardier instead.
It’s off a large common in south London – presumably two hundred years ago it was the only building of any size around, barring the church – and even with the city now sprawled out for miles around, the common has kept it isolated, so as you arrive it feels like you’re deep in the countryside.
It doesn’t feel dangerous, which is good, given that the last time the four of us approached a large rural building together on foot was when we got into this mess in the first place. Although that didn’t feel dangerous either, so who am I to judge?
Anyway, it’s lovely. Huge triangular awnings looking like sails shield the outdoor tables from the spring sun. Insects are already buzzing their way around the flowers in the borders. The car park is a hundred yards away, so you’re not inhaling fumes with your pint. And on the inside, it’s that beautiful combination of dark wood, old prints, crisp linen and – somewhere – a highly stressed kitchen team, all of which combine to make the Bombardier ‘the perfect place to meet old friends or make new ones’ (credit to the website writers). Huge fireplaces, too. I bet they do obscene business at Christmas.
I can see why Davy and his friends come here every year for their AGM.
We arrive on foot. We thought about getting the bus, then realised buses all have CCTV cameras and switched horses to a big Uber, booked in Elle’s name for more anonymity. Finally, as a bit of magnificent subterfuge, we got ourselves dropped off at the edge of the heath, only to realise we’d miscalculated just how far away the pub was, and spent the next twenty minutes walking, steadily getting warmer and crosser.
Em’s cross because she’s worried she won’t look at all like a staff member by the time we arrive, as her uniform will be all crumpled. When I point out that probably the staff’s uniforms will also be quite crumpled, given that they’re running around a pub all day, she snaps at me that she’s the one taking the risk here and if I’m not going to be helpful I should just go back to Balfour Villas.
I’m cross because I wanted to show willing by comingalong and I’m only unable to do the risky bit because I took the risk last time, and because that appears to have gained me no brownie points whatsoever, and also because Em appears to have gone cold on me.
