Leaving Everything Most Loved by Jacqueline Winspear

employers, the Allisons, are presently in Italy, and are not expected back until Sunday.” She looked up at Maisie as the call was answered, changing her tone to speak to the Scotland Yard operator. “Miss Maisie Dobbs to speak to Detective Inspector Caldwell, please.” She smiled at Maisie and held her hand over the mouthpiece. “This’ll get him going, me doing the calling for you. Shows him you’re important.”
    Maisie shook her head. “Sandra, I do think you’re setting up a vendetta here.”
    Sandra smiled at Maisie as she began to speak once more. “Ah, good morning again, Detective Inspector Caldwell. I have Miss Maisie Dobbs on the line for you, per your request.” The sweetness of her greeting was laced with just the hint of a sarcastic edge. She handed the receiver to Maisie.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, can’t get your finger in the dial of a morning?” said Caldwell.
    â€œGood morning to you, too, Inspector. I have just come from an early meeting, so Mrs. Tapley placed the call for the sake of speed—she said you wanted to speak to me with some urgency.”
    â€œMurder is an urgent matter, in my book.”
    Maisie felt her smile deflate. “What’s happened, Inspector?”
    â€œI understand you recently spoke to a Miss Maya Patel.”
    â€œYes, when I visited the ayah’s hostel—we were to meet again today.”
    â€œWell, you won’t be meeting her at all, I’m afraid—her body was found by some dockers early this morning, round the back of a warehouse, not far from the canal. Doesn’t look like she was dumped, we reckon she walked there.”
    â€œWhat was the cause of death?”
    â€œA bullet, Miss Dobbs. Same as the other young lady—straight between the eyes.”
    â€œOh, dear God.”
    â€œAt least it was quick, Miss Dobbs. At least it was quick, not like some of them I see. Anyway, can you come to the Yard?”
    â€œI’m expecting Mr. Pramal here at any moment.”
    â€œRight then, just the man I’m looking for—I’ll come to you.” There was silence on the line for a second or two.
    â€œCaldwell?”
    â€œHow long do you want with him before I get there?”
    â€œAbout forty-five minutes or so. And thank you, Inspector. I appreciate your forethought.”
    â€œMight as well show a bit of willing. After all, Miss Dobbs, we’re in this one together. Getting to be a habit.”
    M aisie walked to the window. She’d been due to meet Maya Patel at half past four, at St. Pancras station. How much of a coincidence was there to connect Patel’s death with her knowledge of Usha and the fact that she had welcomed the opportunity to meet with Maisie and perhaps confide in her? She wondered what connections might exist between the dead women, beyond secrets shared in their accommodations. She suspected that, if they had been in their own country, they might not have encountered each other, but here they had been brought together by the common experience of exile.
    The bell rang, announcing the arrival of a visitor. “That’ll be Mr . Pramal,” said Sandra.
    Maisie escorted Usha Pramal’s brother to the office and offered him a seat in front of her desk. She brought her chair to the side, so that the desk did not form a barrier between them. Pramal declined tea, so Sandra remained at her desk.
    â€œMr. Pramal, I have some news to report, and as you can imagine, more questions. First of all, the disturbing development, and I am very sorry to have to break this to you under such circumstances. Another resident of the ayah’s hostel, a friend of your sister, has been murdered, and at this point it would seem that she was killed by a single bullet to the head. Detective Inspector Caldwell will be here at about ten—as you would imagine, he wishes to interview you; however, he has been most gracious, and not entirely