Murder Most Royal

Katie shook her head. ‘I didn’t need to. They’ve got theories about everything. The general consensus is that he isn’t dead at all. He somehow managed to amputate his hand – and to be fair, they know a few farmers who’ve done that by accident in various bits of farm machinery, so it’s not impossible – and he left it on the beach.’

‘Like leaving your clothes in a little pile?’

‘Exactly. So he could go off and start a new life. They’re fascinated by him. He’s like the local celebrity – apart from the Boss, of course, but she keeps her head down. He did the opposite. There’s nothing they don’t think him capable of.’

‘Even so . . . his own hand. That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’

‘It’s extreme, whoever did it,’ Katie pointed out.

Chapter 15

After a decent night’s sleep, the Queen woke up with a sense of energy and purpose she hadn’t felt for a while. Today, William, Catherine and the great-grandchildren were due to visit. She tried not to rush through the box of Government memoranda, notes from the Foreign Office and other assorted paperwork, but an objective observer would have noticed that she read it faster than usual – starting as always with the papers at the bottom, on the basis that these were the ones the Cabinet Office least wanted her to see.

She was done with it all so quickly that there was time to fit in a ride. The first one she had the energy for since she arrived. She asked Rozie to accompany her. The Queen had always been impressed that a young woman who had grown up on a council estate in the middle of London had somehow found the resources to ride. Not only that, but Rozie had competed for the army. The girl had grit, which was good.

They met up at the stables before setting off together across the paddocks, where a light blanket of snow was marked with the tracks of hares and rabbits. The Queen thought it might be nice to bring little Prince George here later. But now she was grateful to have the opportunity to talk to Rozie undisturbed.

‘How did it go yesterday?’ she asked.

Rozie was equivocal. ‘Katie showed me where the hit-and-run happened. Either it really was an accident, or it was very cleverly staged.’ She explained about the crossing place.

‘So it would be difficult to do it deliberately?’

‘Yes, ma’am. You would need at least two people and some decent planning. Even so, it’s hard to see how you could get the timing right. I did wonder,’ Rozie added, ‘whether there might have been an accomplice standing by the edge of the road, ready to give Judy a nudge if necessary.’

The Queen nodded gravely. The scenario seemed to fit, in an odd sort of way, with the nature of Ned St Cyr’s murder as she understood it: sudden violence, masked by the careful impression that nothing unusual had happened at all.

‘Can you ask Katie to find out if Judy is being safely looked after in hospital? I assume she doesn’t know what it was that Judy was writing about?’

‘Not yet, although it might well have been drugs-related. Judy was definitely worried about drugs in the area. Katie’s going to make some discreet enquiries. She’s checking Judy’s social media accounts, too. It’s possible she mentioned something on Facebook, for example.’

‘Good.’

It astonished the Queen that so many people, even sensible middle-aged ones such as Judy Raspberry, chose to live their lives online. She flinched whenever her family’s private moments were shared without permission and dissected by strangers. Why would anyone willingly submit to this scrutiny? And yet millions did, and many of them obviously got comfort from it. She had tried to understand, but it was still beyond her. However, Rozie was adept at using it to their advantage when there was a problem to solve, such as this one, so for that she was grateful.

‘We might speed things up by gently finding out if Ned had approached the chief constable about any concerns,’ she suggested. ‘Mr Bloomfield runs the National Drugs Task Force.’

‘I’ll ask.’

Unless Ned was on the wrong side of a drug deal, the Queen thought. He had not been entirely law-abiding in his youth. But Anne was so certain he was anti-drugs, and the Queen trusted her daughter’s opinion.

‘From what I know of Ned, I can imagine him starting out along official channels, then getting frustrated and going it alone.’ She paused and turned her pony for home. Reluctantly, she added, ‘There’s one more thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘Julian Cassidy. I gather the police are interested in his activities. He obviously had some sort of quarrel with Ned. I doubt we have reason to be worried, but let me know if you hear anything.’

‘I’ll see what I can find out, ma’am,’ Rozie assured her.