Page 124 of Fire Must Burn

‘This sounds like quite the passion of yours.’

‘There are times,’ said Lonsdale wistfully, ‘when I am standing up to my hips in a cold running stream with nothing but the sounds of the water rushing by, the leaves rustling in the breeze and the birds singing to each other in the distance, when I feel completely at one with the world. I feel a tranquillity then, a soothing of my soul like no other. The pole, the line flying out from it, the fly tied at the end, become extensions of my being, reaching out for connection to another living thing. And when the strike comes, I feel an exhilaration beyond measure.’

There were times to ask questions, and there were times to let people speak, Parham knew. He let Lonsdale continue.

‘The war brought me to London, and I was cut off from all that. I couldn’t breathe the air here, I couldn’t hear my heartbeat amid all the noise. And I could not find anyone who understood me. I have been so lonely here, so intensely isolated in these vast, overwhelming, stinking crowds. I would sit in my flat and tie flies, remembering with each one my past moments of happiness as they drifted further and further away from me. I cast my lines here, and they landed on dead, stagnant waters and lay there undisturbed.

‘Until I met her. That very first date, I felt that connection. It was a surge of almost a primal energy. And she felt it as well, I could tell. We talked, God how we talked, and then she asked if she could see my collection of flies, the real work of my life. I took her back to my flat and showed them to her, and she tookmy hand as I did, and the next thing I knew … well, all I knew of heaven before was nothing compared to her that evening.’

‘This was Miss Lowle?’ asked Parham.

‘Evelyn,’ said Lonsdale. ‘Yes.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Afterwards, she broke down and started crying. I was concerned, of course, and asked her to tell me why. She told me that she had come to London to search for the man she held responsible for her brother’s death, and that she had signed up with The Right Sort because she had learned that he was a client of theirs. But then she had met me, and that changed everything. She didn’t want to leave me, not even to continue her quest.’

In the listening room, Iris and Gwen looked at each other.

‘So that’s how she talked him into it,’ said Gwen.

‘She set the hook and he took it immediately,’ said Iris.

‘What did you say to this?’ asked Parham.

‘I told her that I would help her find justice for her brother,’ said Lonsdale. ‘She said that she couldn’t possibly ask me to do anything that would put me at risk, but I was adamant. I would have done anything for her.’

‘What was the plan?’

‘I had to tell the ladies at The Right Sort that the date had gone poorly,’ said Lonsdale. ‘They were used to that with me. I also told them I was done with them, so that would free me to help Evelyn. She came over every evening after that, and for most of the weekend, and we made love and planned how it would happen.’

‘Whose idea was the petrol bomb?’

‘Hers. It was how her brother was killed, and she thought it the appropriate instrument of execution. She got the address by breaking into the office of The Right Sort after they closed for the day. I came up with the idea of swinging the bomb through his window with the line and rod. It wasn’t difficult once I knew the length of line to use. I followed him into his building, then went to the roof and peered down until I saw his shutters swing open. Then I lit the end of the rag stuffed into the bottle, lowered it, and swung it inside as the flames reached the petrol. The explosion detached it from the line. I pulled the remainder back up, packed my gear and left the building with everyone else.’

‘You could have burned down the entire place,’ said Parham.

‘I was going to call the fire brigade once I got out but someone beat me to it,’ said Lonsdale.

‘Good of you,’ said Parham.

He took a small envelope and poured out the odd feathery earrings that Iris had seen in Lowle’s jewellery box.

‘Do you recognise these?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Lonsdale. ‘Two of my prized creations. A matched pair of yellow and pink badgers. I was going to try them out for salmon in Devon, but Evelyn thought they would make lovely earrings to remember me by, so I gave them to her as a keepsake.’

‘I think she will remember you quite well, Mr Lonsdale,’ said Parham. ‘We will type up your statement and have you sign it. Take him away, Constable.’

The officer uncuffed him from the bar and guided him out of the room.

‘Need a break, Miss Martin?’ Parham asked the stenographer.

‘He was a talker, wasn’t he?’ she said, cracking her knuckles. ‘I’m ready for the next one when you are.’

‘Back in five,’ he said as he collected the fishing flies.

He walked back to the room where the two women had been listening.