Page 78 of Peril in Piccadilly
“Don’t mention it, Evans,” Crispin said and headed for the Hispano-Suiza. “In you go, Darling.”
In I went, and a minute later we were headed down Essex Street towards the Strand.
“You and Tom are certain you have things worked out?” I wanted to know. We had been over this already, but I wanted to hear it again. “You’ll drop me off around the corner from the Savoy…”
“So that he won’t realize that I’m in London,” Crispin nodded. “I’ll park the H6 somewhere out of the way so he won’t see it?—”
Yes, it wasn’t a well-designed motorcar for covert surveillance. Too distinctive by half.
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense, St George. Wolfgang has no reason to want Christopher out of the way. Something else must have happened to him.”
“If so,” Crispin said, his hands easy on the wheel as he steered us through traffic towards Charing Cross station, “we’ll find out where Wolfie lives, and that’ll be all. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t like that information.”
I supposed I couldn’t. “I’m not saying it isn’t strange. Or that he hasn’t behaved strangely. It’s just difficult to say that it equates to him harming Christopher.”
“And perhaps he hasn’t done,” Crispin said. “Perhaps something else happened there. But he has something to hide, and even if we don’t find Kit as a result of tonight’s adventure, it would be nice to know what his reason is.”
Yes, of course it would. “So you park the Hispano-Suiza out of the way somewhere and join Tom…”
“And we wait for you and Wolfie to finish supper,” Crispin nodded. “You let him put you into a Hackney bound for home, and Gardiner and I follow Wolfie to his lair.”
Lair, was it? “That wasn’t part of the deal,” I said.
“What wasn’t?”
“I don’t want to go home and sit there and wait while you two big, strong men chase down Wolfgang and look for Christopher. That’s not fair. He’s my best friend. I shouldn’t be made to miss out.”
“He’s my best friend, too,” Crispin said. “And if you can figure out a way to get to the police-issue Hackney before Wolfie leaves the Savoy, you’re welcome to accompany us. But I don’t see how you’d be able to accomplish that.”
I didn’t either. It would be late by the time supper was over, and it was already dark, so Wolfgang would insist on putting me in a cab for the trip home. And while I could do what I had done last time, and perhaps convince the driver to set me down further up the street, I might not make it back to the Savoy before Wolfgang—and Crispin and Tom—left.
“Perhaps I could simply get into the Hackney the two of you will be occupying? You said that there’s a police-issue Hackney, correct? I assume it will be parked out front? Why don’t I just get into it, and I’ll be with the two of you.”
“I won’t be in the Hackney,” Crispin said. “I’ll be in the lobby. That way, if he goes back into the hotel and out through another door, I can follow.”
“So you’ll be driving the H6.”
“There’ll be three of us,” Crispin said. “Tom is driving a Hackney. It’s the most common motorcar in London, and the least likely to be noticed.”
I nodded.
“Detective Sergeant Finchley will be driving a police issue Crossley Tender.”
I opened my mouth, and he continued before I could express my thought, “Not the Flying Bedstead. This is a Tender without any markings. It looks just like any other motorcar.”
“Just like any other police issue Crossley Tender, you mean.”
“Without the police department logo,” Crispin said.
“Yes, obviously. But it’s still a police issue Crossley Tender.”
“It can’t be helped,” Crispin said. “I’ll have the H6?—”
“So there will be three of you with three different motorcars. You’ll practically be driving in a queue behind him. And yet you’re sending me home? Why can’t I go in the Hackney with Tom, or in the Tender with Finch, or in the H6 with you? You’ll be the farthest behind him, right? You have the most easily recognizable motorcar. So why?—”
“Because we’re trying to keep you safe, Darling. Kit will kill me if he comes back and something has happened to you.”
I folded my arms across my chest, sullenly. “Christopher would not send me home like an ornamental object while he had all the fun. No more than he would have agreed to go home to wait if I were the one who was missing.”
