I sprinted towards Mayfield, waving my arms to attract her attention. Not that I really needed to; the alley was otherwise entirely deserted. She wasn't really trying to hide her presence, of course, but I was really glad I hadn't had to work hard at tracking her down.

"Turn around!" I hissed as I approached.

She stopped as I approached, looking startled.

"Mister Gask! What's happening?" she demanded, having grasped the urgency in my approach, "You said I should come here quickly."

I put my arm around her shoulder, spun her around gently and guided her swiftly in the opposite direction, away from her Grandmother's house.

"Glad you decided to come in by the back door," I hissed as we half-ran, half-walked down the passageway, carefully not answering her question, "We need to go somewhere else, right now."

"Tell me what happened," she insisted, patently determined not to be put off.

"Shh!"

I had just caught a movement in the corner of my eye. Those finely-honed detective senses at work again. Some hidden observer was watching us; somebody who knew how to move, how to keep to the shadows and the corners. This tail was good, very good, and very probably as good as me. It was almost certainly not the same somebody who had been tailing me off-and-on over the last few days. So there were two different people with an interest in what I’m up to, coupled with a desire to keep the reasons for their interest from me. Always a worrying scenario.

I took Mayfield by the elbow and drew her close and whispered in her ear.

"I think your life is in danger," I said softly, "There's somebody following us, right now. Somebody good at sneaking around. It might be the same person who killed Lady Strowan. It might even be the same person who killed that old butler last night."

Mayfield stopped suddenly and stood stock still, almost causing me to overbalance because of the firm grip I still had on her arm. I jerked upright again and spun around to face her. I could see shock and horror and fear piling up on her face, each emotion following the previous one with such rapidity that it was practically a blur.

"Tibbermore's dead?"

"Yes. And you could be next."

She let go of the lead for the travel case, which obediently settled itself on the pavement, and pressed her hands to her eyes. Her muffled sobs were already apparent. She subsided onto her suitcase which creaked slightly as it took her weight.

"Nooo," she wailed, tears already leaking between her fingers.

I hadn't got time for this. And neither did she. We were too exposed out here, not enough eyes around to keep us safe. I gripped her upper arm more firmly and roughly dragged her to her feet. She looked shocked by the rude manhandling. That was the idea, of course: to shake some sense of urgency into her reactions.

"Look, I need to keep you alive. You've got a simple choice," I growled, "You could turn around, go back to the house and talk to the police. I'd have to come too. Sargent Tewel's a good cop, mostly. I'd have to explain to him that I think your life is in danger. Maybe even prove to him you're threatened. He might be convinced. Although there's no evidence, as far as I know. There's nothing to connect Tibbermore's death with anything, except your grandmother's own murder. Unless you know anything different?"

I looked into her eyes, trying desperately to make it clear I was not really recommending this approach. And to see if she did know anything else. No dice.

"Or," I went on, less sternly, "You could stick with me. Let me protect you. I'm certain you're in grave danger. Oh, it's just a hunch. But, my hunches have kept me alive all these centuries. And do you want to really trust the coppers with your protection?"

Mayfield thought for a long moment, an eternity that felt all the while that hidden eyes were boring a hole in my back. That was better than a hole made by a bullet, of course, but I guessed that could become an option at any time in this deserted back alley.

"Okay," she sniffed, "I trust you. No cops. But what are we going to do?"

There was no way I could expect to shake off the tail as skilled as this one appeared to be, not permanently, not while Mayfield was in tow. To be honest, I would have to pull every trick in the book to be sure that I had lost him even for a while. I needed to get him out in the open, quite literally, so I could see him coming. And I needed a bit of breathing-space to be prepared.

I let go of Mayfield's arm and instead took both of her hands in mine; they were distinctly damp from her tears.

"We've gotta get up to the surface."

Part 42

Part 44