He jerked back. "Why? He's dead isn't he?"
"Yes. But now we've come this far, we might as wel do the job properly."
"What are you talking about? How much more properly can you get than that?" He nodded at the figure on the floor.
"He can be identified from dental records if his teeth are intact." Zeppo stared at me. "You want me to smash his teeth?"
"I think it's a sensible precaution, yes."
"No way! You didn't say anything about that before."
"It hadn't occurred to me before. But I think we should."
"No, you mean you think I should! Wel , forget it! If you want his teeth smashing, you do it!"
"I don't see what you're being so squeamish about. They hardly matter to him now."
"I'm not breaking his teeth!" I could see he meant it. "Al right, if you feel that strongly about it. I don't suppose it real y matters. It was only an idea." I stil thought it was a good one. I had also brought paint stripper to remove his fingerprints. But there was no point now. "We'd better start to clean up." Zeppo emptied Marty's pockets and removed his wristwatch. Then we wrapped him in both the cotton and polythene dust-sheets and manhandled the entire bundle into a large refuse sack.
By the time we had finished, I was exhausted, and Zeppo was sweating heavily.
"Jesus, I need a drink," he said.
"You can have one later. The last thing we need is for the police to stop you for a breathalyser test."
"Oh, come on, Donald! One isn't going to do any harm! I need something after that!"
"No." We stared at each other. In spite of what I had just seen him do, I did not feel at al threatened by him. Far from it. He seemed unnerved, his aggression more petulant than arrogant. I held his eyes until he shrugged and looked away.
"Oh, al right, al right, I'l not have a bloody drink. Can I at least go for a piss? Or is that too risky as wel ?" While Zeppo was at the toilet, I went through the articles he had taken from Marty's pockets. There was a wal et containing credit cards and a relatively smal amount of money, a passport, and an address book. I took the money from the wal et and then, as an afterthought, bent each credit card in half. I did not want Zeppo to succumb to temptation.
Leaving al this in a smal pile, I opened the suitcase.
There was nothing of any interest in it. A few clothes, hastily packed. A soap bag, a chequebook, and some more money. Marty had obviously been a prudent person. I put everything except the money in the suitcase, and was just closing it when Zeppo returned.
"Doing a spot of grave robbing are we?" he said, grinning.
"If it offends your principles, I suppose you won't want the cash he was carrying." He picked up the thin bundle of notes and counted through them. "Waste not, want not, eh?" His eyes were unnatural y bright. He seemed to have suddenly recovered his self-assurance. I wondered if it was reaction.
"If you're ready, I suggest we see about getting that' I nodded at the bulky plastic sack, 'into the car."
"You'l have to give me a hand to lift it." There was a hint of malicious pleasure in his voice. I had the suspicion that he was quite capable of managing on his own, but said nothing as I went to help.
Much of the weight seemed to fal on to me before Zeppo final y announced that he had it.
I switched off the light in the corridor before I opened the back door. It was dark outside. The al ey at the rear of the building was unlit, and the lights from the street failed to penetrate into it.
There was no one in sight, and when I opened the car boot it shielded us from anyone who might be passing. Inside was a brand new spade and pick-axe, overal s, Wel ington boots and a pair of gloves the rest of Zeppo's purchases. I took them out and beckoned to him. He staggered out and quickly lowered the sack into the boot. While I put everything else back inside, Zeppo fetched the crowbar and Marty's suitcase from the storeroom. The crowbar, now wrapped in plastic, went on top of the sack, the suitcase on to the back seat. That done, I handed Zeppo the car keys. I had reluctantly decided that my grey BMW was less conspicuous than his red sports car.
"Have you got the map?" I asked. He patted his pocket. "And you're sure you know where you're going?" We had put much thought into where to dispose of Marty's remains, final y deciding on the North Yorkshire moors. The exact spot would be left to Zeppo's discretion.
"If I get lost I'l ask a policeman." He got into the car and turned on the ignition. The lights came on, dazzlingly lighting the al ey. I watched as he slowly edged out into the road and pul ed away. The noise of the motor quickly died in the distance. I went back inside and closed the door on the darkness and smel of exhaust.
Without the sheeting, the storeroom looked the same as ever. I looked around for any sign that Marty had been there, but there was none. The last half-hour might never have happened. Feeling utterly calm, I turned out the lights, locked up, and made my way home.
Chapter Eleven
I was waiting at the airport when Anna arrived next morning. I felt a proprietorial thril when I saw her walk through the customs area. She smiled as she came towards me, but her smile faded as soon as we had greeted each other.
"I didn't get it," she said. For a moment I did not know what she was talking about. "It went for eight-seven in the end." She gave an apologetic shrug.
"Oh wel , win some, lose some," I said, realising what she meant. "It can't be helped."
"A Japanese woman bought it. Someone else stayed with her up to eight-five, but then dropped out. I'm afraid they left me wel behind."
"That's how these things are. If someone's determined to buy a piece, there's very little you can do to stop them. Unless you want to spend a ridiculous amount of money. Never mind.
At least you got the Hopper, and that was the one I was most interested in." I could see my condolences were unnecessary. Anna was not real y listening.
"Have you heard from Marty?" she asked.
"Not since we saw you off. Why? Is anything wrong?"
"Oh no. I just wondered, that's al . I thought he might be here." Her casualness was unconvincing.
"Wel , I did cal him last night to see if he wanted to come with me, but he wasn't in."
"What time was that?"
"Oh ... about eight, I think. Is there something the matter? You look worried." She smiled. "No, not real y. It's just that I couldn't get in touch with him yesterday."
"At home or the university?"
"At home. I cal ed him last night, but there was no answer."
"Perhaps he was working late."
"Yes, probably." We walked a few more steps. "Do you mind if I try again now? Just to tel him I'm back?"
"Of course not. I'l wait here." I watched as she went over to the row of telephones and joined the smal est queue. I yawned. It had been another late and almost sleepless night. I had waited up until after half-past four for Zeppo to cal and tel me he was safely back.
There had been no problems. Once at the moors he had fol owed minor roads and final y stopped at a particularly isolated spot. He had carried Marty wel clear of the road and buried him in an area of bracken.
"It's just started to grow now," he had told me. "In another few weeks it'l have covered over completely." The shovel, pick, and crowbar had been thrown in a flooded quarry pit.
The overal s, gloves and Wel ingtons had been brought back. Along with Marty's clothes and suitcase, they would be cut up and torn into strips, mixed with household rubbish, and discarded at several dumping sites around London. Marty's more personal belongings, such as his passport and credit cards, would first be burnt and then similarly disposed of.
That was what Zeppo was doing while I was at the airport. He had left my car in the overnight car park where his own was waiting, locking the keys inside. Using my spare set, I had col ected it earlier that morning and run it through a car wash before going to meet Anna. Later, I would have it cleaned more thoroughly and have the tyres changed. I wanted no trace of mud or dirt from the moors left on it.
"Any luck?" I asked, as she came over.
"No. I cal ed the university, but he isn't there. And there's stil no answer from the flat." I patted her arm. "Don't look so worried! He's probably on his way to the department right now."
"But it's not like him to be late. And I tried the flat from the hotel this morning, and there was no answer then, either."
"Wel , perhaps your telephone's out of order."
"I don't think so. It was ringing. And the first time I cal ed last night it was engaged, so it must be working." That would have been me. "Not necessarily. It might not be ringing out at the other end. That happened to mine, once. Or you might have been connected to the wrong number the first time. There could be any number of reasons." The furrow faded a little.
"You're probably right. It's just not like him not to be in, that's al ."
"And if your telephone's on the blink he's probably stil at home now, thinking it's not like you not to cal him." She laughed, a little abashed. "I know, I'm being sil y."
"Not at al . In fact, if you'd like, I'l take you back home first. I daresay I won't get a stroke of work out of you until we've set your mind at rest." Anna looked instantly relieved. "Would you? Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Of course not." I put her bag in the car boot I had already checked to make sure it was empty and we set off for her flat. At first we chatted about her trip, but as we drew nearer she fel silent. I felt tense myself. I could not be entirely sure that Marty had left nothing behind to indicate where he had gone. There was no reason why he should, but I would be happier once I knew for certain.
I had never been to Anna's flat before, and once we reached Camden she had to give me directions. "This is it," she said. I parked outside the terraced house.
"Shal I stay here?" I asked, hoping she would not say yes.
"No, it's okay. Come on in." I fol owed her around the back of the house and up a flight of wooden steps to a first-storey door. Anna unlocked it and we went inside.
"Marty?" she cal ed. I stayed in the kitchen while she went through into the rest of the flat. It smelt pleasantly of herbs and spices, with a rather sour under-odour of stale coffee from a dried filter cone. A dirty cereal bowl, beaker and spoon lay in the sink, testimony of Marty's last breakfast.
Anna came back into the kitchen. She looked more worried than ever.
"There's no note or anything. I can't understand it. He knew I was coming back this morning."
"But he wasn't expecting you to come straight here, so he wouldn't have left you a note, would he? Why don't you try the university again?" I smiled, reassuringly. "While you're doing that, I'l pop the kettle on, shal I?" She went back into the lounge to make the telephone cal . I fil ed the kettle and was searching for the tea when she returned, moments later.
"I've just spoken to the head of the department. He was going to ring here himself. Marty was supposed to be meeting him half an hour ago, and he's not turned up. No one knows where he is." I looked a little concerned. "Wel ... perhaps he forgot about it."
"He wouldn't do that."
"Now calm down, Anna. Don't work yourself up over nothing. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation."
"But he knew I was going to phone last night. When I spoke to him the night before, I told him I was, and he said, "I'l talk to you the same time tomorrow"!"
"Wel , sometimes things crop up unexpectedly. You said yourself that the line was engaged when you first tried. So he must have been here then, mustn't he?"
"I suppose so."
"And as far as he was concerned, I was going to pick you up from the airport and take you straight to the gal ery. So if he's going to get in touch with you, he'l try there rather than here, won't he?" She nodded, clearly not convinced. "We'd better be getting back, anyway. I'm taking up al your time." I waved the objection away. "Let's have that cup of tea first. It'l give you a chance to calm down a little. And if he cal s the gal ery in the meantime, he'l leave a message on the answer machine." I was in no rush to leave. I liked the sense of intimacy of being with Anna in her home, surrounded by her belongings. It was my first excursion into her private life. The kettle boiled.
"Now, where's the tea?" As I poured the water into the pot, Anna went into the lounge
and I heard the telephone being used again. I took the milk out of the fridge, smel ing it to make sure it was not sour, and poured it into two mugs. I wondered when Anna would notice that some of Marty's things were missing. It was a temptation to suggest that she check, but I resisted it. She would find out soon enough. I put the tea and mugs on to a tray and carried it into the lounge.
Anna was stil on the telephone. As I walked in she said, "Okay, Al.
Thanks anyway," and hung up. "I've cal ed everyone I can think of who he might have gone to see, but no one knows where he is." Her anxiety was barely under control.
"Drink this." I gave her one of the mugs. "Getting yourself into a state isn't going to do any good."
"Yes, but where is he?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure you'l find out soon. Try to see things in perspective. It's only quarter to twelve. Don't you think it's a little soon to start panicking?" She said nothing. Her tea remained untouched. I knew it was only a matter of time before she would want to go to the gal ery to see if Marty had cal ed.
"May I use the toilet?" I asked, to forestal it.
"It's down the hal , first door on the right." Anna did not even look up as I left the room. I closed the door behind me. The hal way was only smal . One door led off to my left, one to my right. The one on the left would be the bedroom. I hesitated and then opened it.
A double bed faced me, almost fil ing the room. A stripped pine wardrobe and dresser took up most of what little space was left. The scent of Anna's perfume hung in the air. Afraid to linger, I was about to close the door when I saw the framed photograph on the dresser.
It was of Anna and Marty on a beach. Both wore bathing costumes. Marty was as pale and run tish as I had imagined, but I barely noticed him.
It was the sight of Anna that hypnotised me. She was wearing a white bikini and had obviously just been swimming. Droplets of water glistened in her hair and clung to her body, faceting her deep navel.
Her nipples were clearly visible as they pressed against the wet fabric of the bikini top, and the brief pants were cut high on her hips, plunging in a deep vee to her crotch. It bulged out in a smal , raised mound. In the centre of this a faint, vertical indentation was just visible.
My chest tightened as I stared at the photograph. At that moment, I would have given anything to own it. It took al my wil power to come away and close the door. I went into the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. More in control of myself, I looked around the bathroom for further evidence of Anna's personal life. Bottles and jars cluttered the shelf above the washbasin, and the top of the bathroom cabinet was similarly ful . I opened it. The first thing I saw was a large carton of sanitary towels, in plain view. I hurriedly closed the door again.
Flushing the toilet without using it, I went back into the lounge.
"Shal we go to the gal ery?" Anna asked, immediately. I agreed. I had no excuse not to.
There were several messages on the answer machine, none of them, of course, from Marty. I made more reassuring noises, but by now Anna's concern was growing fast.
"I know you think I'm being sil y," she said, after cal ing the university yet again, "But this just isn't like him. I can't understand why he hasn't let me know where he is."
"I don't think you're being sil y, I just think you're overreacting a little. I'm sure he'l turn up soon."
"But where is he?"
"I don't know. But I'l bet he comes home tonight at the usual time, with a perfectly good explanation." I smiled at her. "Now. What about lunch?" Anna insisted on staying in the gal ery in case Marty telephoned. I had sandwiches delivered, but she left hers untouched. As the afternoon passed she grew more and more pensive. She cal ed the university again and even contacted the operator to check if her own line was faulty. Whenever the telephone rang she froze, and if I answered it she watched me anxiously to see who it was. Final y, at four o'clock, I told her she could go home.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Quite sure. In fact, I'l drive you, if you like."
"No, real y, there's no need." It was obvious that she wanted to be alone. Reluctantly, I decided not to insist. "If Marty cal s, tel him to ring me, won't you?"
"Of course," I said. "And don't worry. I'm sure he's fine."
Chapter Twelve
When my telephone rang that evening, I felt sure it would be Anna. I could think of no one else it could be. I had already spoken to Zeppo, and few other people cal ed me at home.
But the voice that answered was patently not hers.
"Mr. Ramsey?"
"Yes?" The brief elation I had felt disappeared.
"It's Margaret Thornby here." The name meant nothing to me. Then I put it together with the voice, which seemed vaguely familiar, and my spirits sank even lower.
"Sorry to bother you," she went on. "But I wondered if you're going to be busy next Wednesday?" Stil disappointed that she was not Anna, I was slow to see what was coming. "Next Wednesday? Ah ... I'm not ..."
"The thing is, I've arranged to see someone next Wednesday morning," she said, "And I did say I'd let you know the next time I was coming into the city, so I thought I'd give you a ring and see if I couldn't offer to buy you lunch." She gave a jol y little laugh that left me entirely cold. "I'm giving you a bit more notice this time. I could see I caught you unawares when I cal ed into the gal ery the other week, so I thought it was only fair to give you plenty of warning before I descended on you again." I frantical y racked my brains for an excuse. "Ah ... next Wednesday
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