Murder Most Royal

Her suspicions proved correct. When Rozie arrived in the office with the boxes the following morning, she announced that Jack Lions had been released. Perhaps ‘parking nearby’ had not been enough of a reason to detain him. Given his relationship to the victim, the Queen was relieved. She saw this as a positive development, although no doubt Bloomfield and his team would be disappointed.

However, as they were preparing to entertain their guests in the ballroom for New Year’s Eve, Rozie updated the royal couple with some worrying information.

‘Mine? Why?’ the Queen wondered.

‘They wouldn’t say. They were only informing us as a matter of courtesy.’

‘Do you have any idea what it might be?’

Rozie had just had a short and difficult conversation with the chief constable, who in turn had just had a short and difficult conversation with his team at the major crimes unit HQ. Both were sorry. It was maddening that the Queen had been landed in it like this, with no warning at all.

‘Er, yes, ma’am. It was provided by a Met officer who was working undercover with a group of animal rights activists.

He recognised Mr Lions from a news item about the arrest. It turned out he was at a meeting in North London all day, to coordinate a campaign against a couple of medical laboratories. The Met officer saw him there in person. CCTV footage confirmed it, and once they presented him with the evidence, he admitted it straightaway.’

‘Why not say so before?’ Prince Philip wondered. ‘Surely planning to attack a laboratory is better than being accused of chopping up your own father?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rozie agreed.

‘They thought Lions seemed to be spinning out his detention deliberately. Apparently, he had a huge smile on his face when he made his admission. As if he had scored some sort of point.’

‘What sort of point?’

Rozie shook her head. ‘I asked, and they don’t know.’

The Queen pursed her lips. ‘Given what he was really doing, I think I have an inkling.’

She sighed and hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

Nobody dared read the tabloid in question too ostentatiously in the morning, but surreptitiously, it was snatched up and perused by everyone in the house.

‘The bastard!’ Philip said, the first to voice his opinion. ‘The absolute bastard.’

‘It had nothing to do with you!’ Sophie Wessex complained to the Queen, affronted on her behalf.

‘Those pictures of Bloomfield arriving at Sandringham on Christmas Eve . . .’ Anne pointed out tersely. ‘Not ideal.