Free Lost and Gone Forever by Alex Grecian Page A

you need me, I’ll drop everything, I’ll let the other case go and be right here to do anything you ask.”
    He could already see that he’d lost. She was now framing the debate in such a way that it was a foregone conclusion. And he couldn’t muster the energy to steer things back the way he wantedthem to go. She was probably right. If they hadn’t found Walter in a year of looking . . . Well, Walter was probably dead. Or it was even possible he didn’t want to be found. Before he’d gone missing, Day had seemed overwhelmed by the prospect of fatherhood, and his career prospects hadn’t been good. Some men in that situation might leave their families and start again somewhere else.
    Hammersmith shook his head, dispelling the unworthy thought, but Hatty misunderstood the gesture.
    “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go back to 184 Regent’s Park Road and I’ll look for clues that aren’t there and were never there. And then I’ll do it all over again tomorrow.”
    “No,” Hammersmith said, “it’s not you. I was reacting to a thought I didn’t like.”
    “Thinking what?”
    “Something else. Something shameful and unfair. Walter Day was a good man, and he’ll be found. But there’s no point in combing over his house again. There’s nothing there.”
    “Does that mean . . . ?”
    “Tell me about your case. What is it?”
    “A missing man.”
    “We seem to be specializing.”
    “It’s all very mysterious. He works for the new store—you know, the one that opened up where Plumm’s used to be, only it’s still Plumm’s, I suppose, only much larger and with more things to buy.”
    Hammersmith shook his head. He had no use for stores.
    “Well, in any event, it’s there,” Hatty said. “And this man, Joseph Hargreave, works for the place. Only he didn’t come to work one day and he hasn’t been seen since.”
    “Happens all the time.”
    “I suppose it must, but this time someone came to us about it. Hisbrother is mad with worry and wants you to investigate, only he doesn’t know that it’s me doing the investigating, not you.”
    “We should tell him.”
    “Oh, no, you mustn’t. If he knows, he’ll hire someone else and won’t pay us.”
    “Hatty, you’ve never really investigated anything before.”
    “But I have. I’ve done it all along, only you didn’t hear me properly when I talked to you about those cases and you didn’t know what I was doing, Mr Hammersmith. But I’ve never hidden the truth, not precisely. And I’m really quite capable. You’ll see.”
    “A client ought to be able to expect a certain level of—”
    “How old are you, Mr Hammersmith?”
    “I have no idea.” (He really didn’t have any idea.)
    “Well, you look quite young to me. And how many years did you work as a detective for the Yard?”
    “Well, none, I suppose. But I—”
    “You were a sergeant, and I know all about that, but you weren’t a sergeant for a terribly long time, were you?”
    “I don’t know. A few months, perhaps?”
    “And before that you were a constable. How long was that?”
    “Two years, perhaps?”
    “So before opening this agency, you had no detective experience and virtually no experience beyond that of a common bobby.”
    “There’s no such thing as a common bobby. It’s a very hard job, and those men put their lives at risk for the safety of their fellow Londoners.”
    She went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “But people like this Dr Hargreave, all our clients, believe you’re up to the task, and why?”
    “Because—”
    “Because you’re a man.” She stopped, and her shoulders sagged. She suddenly looked tired. Hammersmith wondered where she lived and whether she had anyone to take care of her.
    “I’m sure it’s not only that,” he said. She opened her mouth, but he put up a hand to stop her. “You’ve had your say. Now let me talk. Yes, I’m a man, and there are certain responsibilities that go along with that. But I’m not the sort