Page 47 of A Sunless Sea (William Monk 17)

Monk had been preparing himself for a completely different reception-in a sense, almost a different man. He was caught off balance. But if he hesitated now it would put him at a disadvantage-something he could not afford with Runcorn-and it would also make him appear less than honest.

“I’ve been working on a particularly brutal murder, a woman whose body was found on Limehouse Pier nearly a fortnight ago,” he began, accepting the proffered seat.

Runcorn’s expression changed instantly into one of revulsion and something that looked like genuine distress.

Again Monk was surprised. He had rarely seen such sensitivity in Runcorn in the past. Only once did he recall a sudden wave of pity, at a graveside. Perhaps that was the moment he had felt the first real warmth toward Runcorn, an appreciation for the man beneath the maneuvering and the aggression.

“Thought you’d arrested someone for that,” Runcorn said quietly.

“I have. Newspapers haven’t got hold of it yet, but it can’t be long.”

Runcorn was puzzled. “What has that to do with me?”

Monk took a deep breath. “Dinah Lambourn.”

“What?” Runcorn shook his head in denial, as if he believed it could not be possible.

“Dinah Lambourn,” Monk repeated.

“What about her?” Runcorn still did not understand.

“All the evidence says that it was she who murdered the woman by the river. Her name was Zenia Gadney.”

Runcorn was stunned. “That’s ridiculous. How would Dr. Lambourn’s widow even know a middle-aged prostitute in Limehouse, still less care about her?” He was not angry, just incredulous.

Monk felt conscious of the absurdity as he answered. “Joel Lambourn was having an affair with Zenia Gadney, over the last fifteen years or so,” he explained. “He visited her at least once a month and gave her money. He was her sole support.”

“I don’t believe it,” Runcorn said simply. “But if he was, then when he died, she would be left with nothing. She probably went out on the streets again and ran into a bloody lunatic. Isn’t that the obvious answer?”

“Yes,” Monk agreed. “Except that we can’t find any trace of a lunatic. A man who would kill like that doesn’t commit just one crime with nothing before or after it. You know that as well as I do. He strikes with a few random acts of violence, which get worse as he gets away with it and his insanity increases.”

“Someone just passing through?” Runcorn suggested. “A sailor. You can’t find him because he doesn’t belong there. His earlier crimes happened somewhere else.”

“I wish that were the answer.” Monk meant it. “This was terribly personal, Runcorn. I saw the body. A man insane enough to do that leaves traces. Other people up and down the river would have heard of him. Even a foreign sailor would have been seen by someone. Don’t you think we’ve looked for that?”

“Dinah Lambourn would have been seen, too,” Runcorn retorted instantly.

“She was … by several people. She made quite a scene trying to find Zenia Gadney. People in the shops at the time remember her; so does the shopkeeper.”

Runcorn looked stunned. He shook his head. “You want me to testify to something about her? I can’t. She seemed to me one of the sanest women I ever met: a woman who loved her husband very deeply indeed and was shattered by his death. She could hardly believe it.” His own face was crumpled with grief. “I can’t imagine how anyone deals with the fact that the person they love most in the world, and trust, has taken their own life, without even letting you know they were hurting, let alone wanted to die.”

“Neither can I.” Monk refused to think of Hester. “Imagine what it did to her to hear of his fifteen-year affair with a middle-aged prostitute in Limehouse.”

“Did she know?”

“Yes. Her sister-in-law says she did, and Mrs. Lambourn herself admits it.”

Runcorn sat motionless in his chair as if part of him were paralyzed.

“Does she admit to killing this … Gadney woman?”

“No. She says she didn’t. She swore she was with a friend of hers at the time, a Mrs. Moulton, at a soirée …”

“There you are!” Runcorn was overcome with relief. Finally he relaxed, easing himself in the chair.

“And Mrs. Moulton says she was at an art exhibition, and under pressure, she admitted that Dinah Lambourn was not with her,” Monk told him.