As the Crow Flies

Charlie tried not to leap out of his chair. “Don’t suppose that piece of paper tells you her name?”

“Margaret Ethel Trentham,” said the chief.

Charlie knew he didn’t have to recheck the name in the files that Roberts had left with him overnight. There hadn’t been a Margaret Ethel Trentham mentioned in any of them. He could recall the names of the three Trenthams born in Australia between 1924 and 1925, and all of those were boys.

“Date of birth?” he hazarded.

“No clue, Charlie,” said Cooper. “It wasn’t the girl who was being charged.” He pushed the piece of paper over the desk, so that his visitor could read everything he had already been told. “They didn’t bother too much with those sort of details in the twenties.”

“Anything else in that file you think might ’elp an East End boy not on his ’ome ground?” asked Charlie, only hoping he wasn’t overdoing it.

Cooper studied the papers in the Trentham file for some time before he offered an opinion. “There are two entries on our records that might just be of some use to you. The first was penciled in by my predecessor and there’s an even earlier entry from the chief before him, which I suppose just might be of interest.”

“I’m all ears, Mike.”

“Chief Parker was paid a visit on 24 April 1927 by a Mrs. Ethel Trentham, the deceased’s mother.”

“Good God,” said Charlie, unable to hide his surprise. “But why?”

“No reason given, nor any record of what was said at that meeting either. Sorry.”

“And the second entry?”

“That concerns another visitor from England inquiring after Guy Trentham. This time on 23 August 1947”—the police chief looked down at the file again to check the name—“a Mr. Daniel Trentham.”

Charlie went cold as he gripped the arms of his chair.

“You all right?” asked Cooper, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Fine,” said Charlie. “It’s only the effects of jet lag. Any reason given for Daniel Trentham’s visit?”

“According to the attached note, he claimed to be the deceased’s son,” said the chief. Charlie tried not to show any emotion. The policeman sat back in his chair. “So now you know every bit as much about the case as I do.”

“You’ve been very ’elpful, Mike,” said Charlie as he pushed himself up to his feet before leaning across to shake hands. “And if you should ever find yourself back in Deptford, look me up. I’d be only too happy to take you to see a real football team.”

Cooper smiled and continued to trade stories with Charlie as the two men made their way out of his office to the lift. Once they were on the ground floor the policeman accompanied him to the steps of police headquarters, where Charlie shook hands with the chief once again before joining Trevor Roberts in the car.

“Right, Roberts, it seems we’ve got ourselves some work to do.”

“May I be permitted to ask one question before we begin, Sir Charles?”

“Be my guest.”

“What happened to your accent?”

“I only save that for special people, Mr. Roberts. The Queen, Winston Churchill and when I’m serving a customer on the barrow. Today I felt it necessary to add Melbourne’s chief of police to my list.”

“I can’t begin to think what you said about me and my profession.”

“I told him you were an overpaid, toffee-nosed boy scout who expected me to do all the work.”

“And did he offer an opinion?”

“Thought I might have been a little too restrained.”

“That’s not hard to believe,” said Roberts. “But were you able to prise any fresh information out of him?”

“I certainly was,” said Charlie. “It seems Guy Trentham had a daughter.”