Hardcastle's Traitors by Graham Ison

about,’ said Mrs Villiers, once Elsie had been dispatched to make the tea. She briefly touched her upswept brown hair.
    â€˜I’m investigating a murder that took place during a robbery in Vauxhall Bridge Road, madam,’ Hardcastle began. ‘It was a murder in which we believe Mr Sinclair Villiers’s car was involved.’
    Hannah Villiers threw back her head and emitted a gay, tinkling laugh. ‘D’you mean someone stole his precious Haxe-Doulton motor car to carry out this murder? Did they wreck it?’
    â€˜No, Mrs Villiers,’ said Marriott. ‘There wasn’t a scratch on it.’
    â€˜Oh, what a shame. Speaking frankly, Sergeant, my estranged husband loved that car more than he loved me. But why have you come to see me? I no longer live with him, as I’m sure he must have told you.’
    â€˜So I understand, madam,’ said Hardcastle.
    â€˜It must’ve hurt his ego when I upped sticks and left him just before the war started,’ continued Hannah Villiers in matter-of-fact tones. ‘But Sinclair always liked to be in control. He insisted on the household being kept in a certain order and would carry out inspections, and reorganize things. It really was most intolerable. Apart from that, he ignored me … in every way. I’m sure you know what I mean, Inspector; to him, bed was a place for sleeping in.’ She paused to stare directly at Hardcastle as she fingered the Star of David that hung from a silver chain at her neck. ‘It was really too much, so I left him. However, you still haven’t told me how any of this concerns me.’
    Once again, Hardcastle was surprised at how often women were prepared to share the most intimate details of their married life with a complete stranger. But, paradoxically, rarely spoke of it to their closest friends.
    â€˜Mr Villiers told me that your son, Captain Villiers, stays with you when he is on leave.’
    â€˜That’s correct. In fact he’s here now. But surely he can’t help you with this murder, can he?’
    However, further conversation on the subject was interrupted by the arrival of the tea.
    â€˜Just put it down over there, Elsie,’ said Hannah. ‘I’ll deal with it.’ And she spent the next few minutes pouring the tea and handing it round.
    â€˜You say your son is here now, Mrs Villiers,’ said Hardcastle. ‘Mr Villiers told me that he was still in France.’
    â€˜Well, Sinclair doesn’t know everything, despite what he might think. Haydn’s not here at this precise moment, but he is staying with me. I think he’s due to go back to France on Friday. He was lucky enough to get leave for Christmas and actually arrived late on Christmas Eve. But I don’t really see how he can help you, Inspector.’
    â€˜Nor can I, madam,’ said Hardcastle disarmingly, ‘until I speak to him. According to Mr Villiers, your son had permission to use the car, and I was wondering whether he had taken it and perhaps left it somewhere, and that it was stolen from there rather than from Flood Street.’ He did not think that at all, but was wondering whether Haydn Villiers had actually been involved in a robbery that had culminated in murder.
    â€˜I see. Well, he’ll probably be back in time for luncheon. He wasn’t here last night, and I’ve no idea where he’s been.’ Hannah Villiers paused and gave a wry smile. ‘But I could hazard a guess at
what
he was doing.’
    Hardcastle took out his hunter and stared at it. Giving it a brief wind, he dropped it back into his waistcoat pocket and stood up. ‘I wonder if you’d be so good as to ask him to call in at Cannon Row police station at his convenience, madam. Then I can clear this matter up for once and all.’
    â€˜Of course, Inspector.’ She picked up a small bell and rang it. Seconds later, the housemaid appeared. ‘These gentlemen are