Lost and Gone Forever Read Online Free Page B

plate. He had always lived a monastic existence, but had spent the majority of his time lately in the cluttered office, eating fish pies and tea and sleeping on the floor when his eyes grew heavy from poring over the same witness reports and news articles again and again, looking for some previously neglected clue that might lead him to Walter Day. But the flat was neat and tidy. There was a flowerpot on the table, and a green plant stretched upward toward the window above. Hammersmith peered at this new addition to the flat and blinked twice, not sure what to think about it. He leaned slightly forward on his toes, his hands behind his back, as if in unconscious competition with the plant for sunlight.
    He heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later the door opened and Timothy Pinch entered, bringing with him the mingledscents of chocolate and sugar and lemon rind from the confectionery downstairs. Timothy paused when he saw Hammersmith, then grinned and crossed the room to him.
    “Nevil,” he said. “Good to see you. It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”
    Hammersmith nodded. “I stayed here last Tuesday night, I think. Maybe Wednesday.”
    “Sorry to have missed you. It’s been so lonely, I had to get some company for myself.” Pinch pointed to the plant. “A maidenhair fern. It’s almost as talkative as you are.”
    Hammersmith grimaced, then tried to turn it into a smile.
    “Sorry,” Pinch said. “What brings you?”
    “I left a file here,” Hammersmith said. “At least, I think I did. Can’t remember where I put it.”
    “Ah, yes, I’ve tidied up a bit here and there. Anything that looked like it might be related to your work I’ve put in the top drawer of the desk.” Pinch pointed to the small rolltop in the corner where the hallway narrowed and led back to the two bedrooms.
    Hammersmith nodded his thanks and rummaged through the drawer. The file he wanted was beneath a report on the weather conditions the evening Walter Day had disappeared.
    “Perfect,” he said.
    “Tea?”
    “No, thank you,” Hammersmith said. “I really ought to get back to the office. Unless you . . .”
    “I was going to have some myself.”
    “Well, then, I suppose I’d be glad of it.”
    “Good.”
    Pinch busied himself at the fireplace while Hammersmith waited, feeling like a stranger in his own home, which he decided heprobably was. Once a fire was going and a kettle had been put on to boil, Pinch stood and rubbed his hands together. He grinned again and clapped.
    “Now,” he said, “tell me everything.”
    “About what?”
    “You know. Cases. Investigations. That sort of thing.”
    “Ah, no, nothing much to report, I’m afraid.”
    Pinch clicked his tongue and frowned, disappointed. He was two or three years younger than Hammersmith, and two or three inches shorter, but he gave the impression of greater height, as if he only needed to straighten out his gawky frame and unkink his limbs to throw off the shackles of adolescence. Under slick fawn-colored hair, his eyes were the clear blue of an undisturbed pool, and a family of squirrels might have comfortably sheltered in the shadow of his nose. He vibrated with nervous energy. Hammersmith glanced at the complex pattern of chemical burns and stains on Pinch’s laboratory coat, which he never seemed to remove, except for dinner.
    Hammersmith looked away, back at the intruder houseplant. “And what about you? How go the studies?”
    “Fascinating,” Pinch said. “Really just fascinating. I can’t tell you. Dr Kingsley is ahead of his time. I’m just incredibly lucky to be able to work with him.”
    In addition to his duties at University College Hospital, Dr Bernard Kingsley was the official forensics examiner for the Metropolitan Police. The busy doctor had been in need of a capable assistant for some time, and Pinch was his most promising student. Pinch squatted before the fire again and launched into a one-sided discussion of the migratory habits