William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

eyes.
    “No, Constable, you don’t,” Monk replied with a smile. “I’m Commander Monk of the Thames River Police at Wapping. I need to ask you very briefly about an incident that was reported to you, just to verify certain facts. Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea to start the day? And a sandwich?”
    “Not necessary, sir, but … yes, thank you, sir,” Watkins accepted, trying to hide his relish at the thought of a fresh sandwich, and not making much of a success of it.
    The sergeant shifted his weight from one foot to the other, drawing in his breath sharply. Monk knew in that moment that he had had orders not to let this happen.
    “Constable!” he said sharply. “Mr. Monk—Constable Watkins has duties, sir. He can’t just …” He looked at Monk’s face and his voice wavered.
    “Have you received orders from your senior officers that you are not to permit Constable Watkins to cooperate with the River Police in
any
investigation, Sergeant?” Monk asked very clearly. “Or with one investigation in particular?” He said it with an edge to his voice that would have cut glass.
    The sergeant stammered a denial, but it was obvious to Monk, at least, that that was exactly what he had been told to do.
    Monk went with Watkins to the peddler at the next street corner from the station and bought hot tea and sandwiches from him. It was a cold morning, the light only just broadening. A stiff wind blew up from the river, cutting through the wool of coats and scarves.
    Watkins was uncomfortable after the exchange between Monk and the sergeant, but he recognized that he had no choice but to cooperate. Monk knew he would have to do what he could to protect the man from the ire of his senior officers.
    “Constable, you were first on the scene of Dr. Joel Lambourn’s death, up on One Tree Hill, about two and a half months ago.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I spoke to Mr. Petherton, the man who had found Dr. Lambourn. He was most helpful. But you understand I also need a more trained eye to tell me if his observations were correct.”
    “Yes, sir.” Constable Watkins sipped his tea but his eyes never left Monk’s.
    Monk repeated precisely what Petherton had told him, including the shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, the blood on Lambourn’s wrists, and the ground, both in shape and degree.
    “Was there anything else?” he asked. “Please think carefully, Constable. It would not do to have to add anything later. It would look gravely incompetent, at the very best. At the worst it would seem like deliberate dishonesty. We can’t have that. A man’s death is very serious, any man’s. Dr. Lambourn’s importance to the government makes his even more so. Have I just described it as you witnessed it? Bring it to your mind, your recollection as a police officer, and then answer me.”
    Watkins closed his eyes, was silent for several moments, then opened them and looked at Monk. “Yes, sir, that’s perfectly correct.”
    “So Mr. Petherton is both accurate and honest?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “He didn’t leave anything out? Nothing else to see at all? Footprints? Marks of a scuffle? Anything?”
    “No, sir, nothing at all.”
    “Thank you, Constable. That’s all. I must not hold you from your duties any longer. You may tell your sergeant I am obliged to him, and that all you did was confirm your own recollection, as you gave it before. You never added anything or changed anything. You can swear to that in court, if need be.”
    Watkins gave a sigh of relief and the color flooded up his face. “Thank you, sir.”
    M ONK SAW D R . W EMBLEY again, but the doctor could not recall or add anything significant; he simply repeated the evidence he had given before.
    Later that evening, in fine, cold rain, Monk went to Runcorn’s house and told him the results of his day.
    They were in the small, comfortable parlor with the fire burning well and fresh tea and slices of cold chicken pie on the table between them. This time Melisande was also there. She had initially come in simply to bring the food, but Runcorn had signaled her to stay. Considering the firmness with which he did so, Monk did not raise any objection. He did not want to distress her. He had little knowledge of her personality, except for the courage with which she had insisted on giving evidence during the case they were investigating when they had first met her. He glanced at her face once or twice, and saw only pity and intense concentration.
    “That’s the