‘Cleo would go crazy if she saw this,’ Grace said. ‘She loves antiques.’

  ‘That why she likes you, is it?’ Branson quipped, getting in a dig at the ten-year age gap between Roy Grace and his wife.

  ‘Yeah, right, I—’

  He stopped in mid-sentence as a polished, conservatively dressed woman in her forties came into the room, followed by the unmistakable figure of Queen Camilla.

  Right behind her was Magellan-Lacey, who spoke in a brisk, businesslike manner. ‘Your Majesty, Detective Superintendent Roy Grace and Detective Inspector Glenn Branson from Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team. And, gentlemen, if I may also introduce Her Majesty’s Private Secretary, Jayne Bennett.’

  The Queen looked at each of the detectives for a moment, as if sizing them up. Grace forgot for a second to bow. It was Branson who did so first with almost theatrical exaggeration. Grace gave a more restrained and rather awkward lowering of his head.

  The Queen was dressed in a black two-piece with a matching scarf around her neck. He was, momentarily, at a loss for words.

  Fortunately, The Queen wasn’t. ‘Good morning, gentlemen. May we offer you some refreshments – I gather you’ve come up from Sussex. Some tea or coffee?’

  ‘Thank you, but we’re fine, Your Majesty,’ Grace said.

  The Queen gestured them to the armchairs, then sat down on the edge of the sofa, facing them. The Master left the room and The Queen’s Private Secretary sat at the round table in the window and produced a notebook followed by a pen.

  There was a brief silence, which Grace hastily broke, immediately aware as he spoke that, uncharacteristically, his voice was probably an octave higher than normal and had a nervous quaver.

  ‘Your Majesty, I believe you have quite a strong connection to Sussex?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ she replied. ‘My family home throughout my childhood was in Plumpton – only a few miles from Brighton, I’m sure you know it. I have great affection for the county. Are you from Sussex?’

  ‘Born and bred,’ Grace said.

  ‘And me,’ Branson added.

  ‘It’s a beautiful county.’ The Queen smiled briefly, then stiffened, signalling small talk was over and stared directly at Grace. ‘Detective Superintendent, I had been under the impression that someone had taken a pot-shot at me and missed, hitting poor Perry instead – which is just . . . simply dreadful – but I’m informed you have a different opinion, is this the case?’

  ‘I am considering all options, but I do have a different opinion, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘And I will explain my reasons to you fully. I would like to start at the beginning before we get to them, if I may?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘I appreciate this may be distressing, but it is important for the investigation that we go into detail. If you can cast your mind back to Monday morning, can you tell us in your own words exactly what happened?’

  ‘Yes, of course – from what point?’

  ‘Starting from the moment you boarded the train. Did everything seem normal to you?’

  ‘A bit too normal,’ she said. ‘To be honest, I didn’t notice much, I was making some amendments to a speech I was planning to deliver last night – which I did. It wasn’t until the train suddenly began slowing down really quite sharply, and then the carriage started shaking and people – including me – were being flung out of their seats, that I realized obviously something was seriously wrong.’ She paused to reflect for a moment then continued.

  ‘It was all happening so quickly. In a flash it was over and we were stationary, and I heard screaming. I was lying on the floor and smelled something burning – like an electrical fire. I got onto my feet – with some difficulty as the carriage was at an angle, and one of my shoes had come off. The driver and Peregrine as well as my Protection Officer were urging everyone to get off the train. I felt I had to make sure everyone was all right. Tiny and Elena – my two Queen’s Companions – were a bit shaken but fine, as was my dresser and dear Jayne, here.’ She looked across at Jayne, who nodded reassuringly. ‘The Train Manager looked as if he might be in shock, and I saw the Director of Comms had blood running from his nose. It was all very traumatic.’

  She paused for a moment and interlocked the fingers of both hands. ‘Is this enough detail for you?’

  ‘It’s very helpful, Your Majesty,’ Grace said.

  ‘Did you have any observations at the time or in the immediate aftermath, Your Majesty?’ Branson asked. ‘One thing we need to do is to rule out any members of your Household staff being involved in whatever was really going on. After the derailment, did you notice anything unusual in the behaviour of any of them?’

  ‘Anything unusual? What exactly do you mean by that, Detective Inspector? To be frank, it was an unusual event and the normality of people’s behaviour at that moment was the very last thing on my mind. We were all very shaken. I wanted to see if everyone was all right, and the driver was extremely anxious to get us off the train.’

  ‘Ma’am, what I mean is,’ Branson explained, ‘like, for instance, one of your members of staff not being as shocked as you might have expected?’

  The Queen gave him a look that stopped short of being totally withering. ‘How shocked, exactly, do you mean?’ She gave a fleeting smile as if trying to signal she wasn’t beating up on him, she just wanted to understand. ‘Do you have a slide-rule, marked one to ten, Detective Inspector, like some kind of Richter scale that you use to test victims of train derailments?’

  Grace, seeing his colleague struggling in deep water, waded to his rescue. ‘Ma’am, what DI Branson is asking is if Your Majesty felt anyone’s behaviour indicated, in any way at all, that they might have known the derailment was going to happen? Perhaps someone looking unusually anxious during the journey, anything of that nature?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ she said, emphatically. ‘One moment everything was absolutely normal, and the next, everyone was in a state of total shock and bewilderment, as I was. The driver seemed to be very distressed, poor man. He was concerned about an express train coming towards the tunnel and wanted us to get out as quickly as we could. It was quite horrid in there, and trying to walk across those stones – ballast, I think they call it – in court shoes, was something I wouldn’t recommend.’

  32

  Wednesday 22 November 2023

  Grace responded. ‘I’m afraid we do have to be rather pedantic with our questions, Ma’am.’

  The Queen nodded and smiled warmly. ‘I understand, Detective Superintendent. I read a lot of crime fiction so I do have some idea how your lines of enquiry all work. I just wish I could give you some brilliantly sharp observation, perhaps a Miss Marple moment, that could give you a lead but, to be honest, throughout that train journey south from London towards Brighton, everything and everyone could not have seemed more normal.’

  Grace smiled back, starting to feel a tiny bit more relaxed in her presence now. He glanced at Branson before turning back to her. ‘Your Majesty, today I just wanted to have a very informal chat with you about the events, but it may be helpful to our enquiries at some point soon to do what we call a formal cognitive witness interview, in a controlled environment. I appreciate that you are extremely busy, though.’

  She frowned. ‘Cognitive witness interview?’

  Branson explained. ‘It’s a very structured technique for helping a witness to remember key details – some of which are often buried in their subconscious. If I can give you an example, there are questions we put to witnesses of a car crash. In the first we ask, “Did you see much glass on the road after the collision?” In the second we ask, “Did you see much glass on the road after the smash?”’

  She gave him a wry smile. ‘And the answer to the second will always be much more glass. So you are going to hypnotize me, are you?’

  ‘Not remotely, Ma’am,’ Branson replied. ‘But it would take about two hours of your time.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever you need me to do,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She frowned again. ‘One thing I want to ask you, which no one has told me yet, is how the train was derailed. Assuming you – we all – are very clear it wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘It was derailed by a piece of rail, Your Majesty,’ Grace said. ‘A length of spare rail laid across the track. I understand that Network Rail, who are responsible for the track, keep varying lengths of these at intervals along all the main routes, so they can do a quick repair if ever needed. One of our primary lines of enquiry is around any persons seen entering either the north or south portals of Clayton railway tunnel in the preceding days, or on Monday.’

  ‘Maybe Queen Victoria was quite sensible getting out of the train and going by horse-drawn carriage across the Downs to Brighton,’ she said drily and shot a glance at her watch. Then she looked at each detective in turn. ‘Do you think you are going to find these people quickly?’

  ‘I wish I could say yes, Ma’am,’ Grace replied. ‘It is helpful in many ways that we are looking for more than one offender – from what we understand it is probably two people at least, rather than just a lone wolf.’

  ‘One of them who is either a very good shot or a very bad one.’ She raised her eyebrows at him.

  ‘I believe the person was a very good shot, Ma’am.’

  ‘Otherwise I might not be here – is that what you are implying?’

  Grace locked eyes with her. ‘Ma’am, if he was a good shot, then he hit his intended target. There is always the possibility that the shooter was much further away than we believe, in which case his margin of error could be as much as four feet – the approximate distance between you and Sir Peregrine at the moment he was shot.’

  ‘What about we just hypothesize for a moment, as I believe you detectives like to say. Let’s hypothesize that this gunman – shooter – was indeed a very bad shot. And that he missed his real target. And did the same again with his second shot. That would mean he might try again.’

  ‘We are acutely aware of this being a possibility,’ Grace said. ‘Until we find and arrest the offenders, your personal security – and that of His Majesty The King’s – needs to be at the highest level of alert. We are working closely with both your Royal Protection team and with the Met’s Counter Terrorism Command, and updating them twice daily.’

  ‘That’s very reassuring,’ The Queen replied, not looking at all reassured.

  ‘One final question I have for you today, is whether, to your knowledge, Sir Peregrine Greaves had any enemies?’

  She frowned. ‘Enemies?’

  ‘Someone who, for whatever reason, might have wanted him dead?’

  She was silent for some while before responding. ‘Well, there is quite a hornets’ nest of jealousies, rivalries, jostling for position and favours within the Royal Household. I’m sure Tommy can elaborate on this. It’s probably no different in many ways to what goes on in any large corporate structure. Some people get a bit frustrated, some people get angry. But angry enough to commit murder? Managing to engage co-conspirators?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so – we are getting into very far-fetched territory here, don’t you think?’

  Grace waited for a few moments after she had finished speaking, then replied, ‘I’m afraid the facts do take us into the realm of the far-fetched. I don’t want to sound insensitive or in any way disrespectful, but could there have been any other reason someone might have wanted Sir Peregrine dead? If we are right – and we may not be – but if we are, the people behind this went to a great deal of trouble to kill him. And we need to understand why.’

  The Queen shook her head, very slowly, from side to side. ‘Perry was universally popular. The only thing I can think of is that he did like the trappings that went with his job, and had been upset over one issue recently – he was so upset he spoke to The King about it.’

  ‘Which was, Your Majesty?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Well, Tommy was trying to move his team, along with all the others in the Royal Household, into open-plan offices. Perry always had a beautiful office in St James’s Palace, with some very fine paintings on the wall. He was extremely upset because there was nowhere for these to be hung in the proposed new offices.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem like much of a motive for killing him, Your Majesty,’ Branson said.

  ‘I think I would agree with you.’ The Queen looked at her watch, then back at each detective in turn, before levelling on Grace. ‘Perry did say to me he had an issue he wanted to speak to me about when we were on the train.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But he was always wanting to tell me something or other. They all do, Detective Superintendent, I don’t get a moment’s peace. I doubt it was anything significant. Now, I’m afraid I have to attend another meeting in a quarter of an hour. The King wants to speak to you, and on this occasion, I’ll take you to his office.’ She turned to Branson. ‘If you come with us, Jayne will show you the Billiards Room, where your colleagues are conducting their interviews with my staff. Then I understand Tommy is taking you and another member of your team to see Peregrine’s widow, Margot, Lady Greaves?’

  ‘That is correct, Ma’am,’ Grace replied.

  She stood and both of them immediately followed, a respectful step or two behind.

  ‘Please don’t think, Detective Superintendent Grace and Detective Inspector Branson, that I want to be anything other than helpful to your enquiries. Don’t look at me as anyone special. Just treat me as you would any other witness to a murder. Neither I nor The King are above the due process of the law.’

  33

  Wednesday 22 November 2023

  Grace held the door for The Queen and her Private Secretary, then followed Glenn Branson out into the corridor. His eye was immediately taken by an ancient and very lifelike portrait of a nobleman with a massive beard, staring imperiously out of the canvas.

  ‘You have some wonderful art in the Palace, Ma’am,’ he said.

  She turned towards him, now with a very big smile, as if he had touched on a favourite subject. ‘Is it an interest of yours?’ she asked.

  ‘Both my wife and I, Ma’am,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, in that case we’ll take the slightly long way round, and go via the Marble Corridor and up to the Picture Gallery, where we have some of our finest paintings – and some wonderful statues.’ Then, as if she was assuming the role of Palace tour guide, The Queen said, ‘Did you know we have the largest private collection of Canalettos in the world here in Buckingham Palace?’

  He shook his head, wishing he could be videoing this for Cleo. The Queen herself giving him a tour!

  ‘I’ll show you some, as well as our very magnificent Rembrandts.’

  Along the way, Glenn and Jayne peeled off, but Grace barely noticed, he was so mesmerized by all the paintings Queen Camilla was pointing out. As well as the display cabinet after display cabinet of fine ornaments and jewellery they passed.

  ‘Do you have a favourite painting, Ma’am?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I do. I’ll show it to you. It’s in the Picture Gallery.’

  After a few minutes, with Grace awkwardly tongue-tied, they climbed a wide staircase and entered a long gallery with rose-pink walls and a vaulted glass ceiling. Gilded sofas with grey satin coverings, as if there for viewing purposes, were arranged along either side of white marble fireplaces. There was a hush about the room, an almost cathedral-like sense of awe. Grace couldn’t help it, he had to just stop and stare for a second at the paintings on both sides.

  ‘Some of the very best Canalettos are on the left,’ The Queen pointed out. ‘It was George III who was responsible – and rather unintentionally – for acquiring these, as well as my favourite painting.’

  ‘Really?’ Grace said.

  ‘George III loved books. He bought a collection from the British Consul in Venice in 1762 – a fellow called Joseph Smith. Apparently Smith was short of money and offered The King a deal on fifty-three Canalettos, and threw in another picture by a then relatively unknown Dutch artist called Vermeer.’

  ‘Amazing!’

  ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘And over on the right, just over there, we have our best Rembrandts.’

  Grace was torn between the stunning landscapes of Canaletto’s Venice and the sombre but incredibly detailed and lifelike Rembrandts, hardly knowing which way to look and wishing he could stop and linger.

  ‘But this,’ Queen Camilla said, really animated now, ‘this coming up is my absolute favourite painting in the entire Royal Collection – this simply gorgeous Vermeer – it—’

  She stopped in mid-sentence and stared, puzzled, at a landscape featuring a couple together in an idyllic woodland setting. There were two Doric columns behind them and a lake in a forest further back, surrounded by an array of beautiful people in beautiful period clothes.

  She turned to Grace. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘The Royal Collection team are constantly doing this – taking away paintings and other works of art to clean them and replacing them with something else, like this Fragonard. Jewellery too. There’s a particularly beautiful coronet I just adore, with a quite magnificent diamond, which has been removed from a display cabinet and gone ages. I keep asking the Director of the Royal Collection when it’s coming back. I’m afraid the Royal Collection team really are a law unto themselves!’

  ‘With the best of intentions, Ma’am?’ Grace questioned.

  ‘I’d like to think so,’ she said. ‘Although they are sometimes a bit too possessive – they seem to think they own these works. The Monarchy, in fact, hold them all in trust for the Nation as their guardians.’

  He followed her up a flight of stairs, impressed by her agility as she raced ahead.

  Then she knocked on an ornate door in front of them. From the other side, Grace heard a familiar voice from radio and television. Posh, commanding, a little strained but above all warm. ‘Come in!’