Fine Lines

by Simon Beckett

  "By the way," he said, when she had hung up, "I spoke to the university today. I told them they could let someone else use Marty's room. They offered to save it for him, but I told them not to bother. I couldn't see any reason why they should do that when he hadn't even had the decency to tel them he was leaving." Anna looked appal ed. "You can't do that!"

  "I already have."

  "But what about al his books? And his research? Al his files, his notes and everything are there! What's going to happen to them?" Westerman was untouched by Anna's consternation. "Frankly, I don't care. If Marty comes back soon he can claim them. Or you can col ect them, if you want to. Failing that, unless some sympathetic tutor decides to store them for him, I guess they'l be thrown out. That's what I advised, at least."

  "You'd got no right to do that!" Anna had gone red.

  "I'd got every right. I'm his father. If Marty's going to be irresponsible, then like it or not it's down to me to sort out his affairs as I see fit."

  "But there's three years' worth of work there! More!"

  "If it was so important he shouldn't have left it. And since he did, he can hardly expect other people to look after it until he decides to show up. If I was the head of his department I'd burn it al right now. But I suppose they're too liberal-minded to do anything like that."

  "I can't believe you're serious!" Anna almost shouted. "He's your son, for God's sake! How can you be so bloody cal ous? Marty's gone missing, and you want to burn his work? What sort of a father are you?"

  "The sort who has to cross the Atlantic to sort out the mess his son left behind when he decided to run away."

  "Run away?" Anna seemed about to attack him. "Marty's missing, can't you understand that? He's not a … a spoilt little kid who's hiding in the wardrobe! He's disappeared! No one knows where he is, or what's happened to him, and you're acting like he's done it to spite you!" I had never seen Anna so angry. Never believed she could be.

  Westerman, on the other hand, appeared perfectly calm. "I might not know where he is now, but the reason he went is pretty obvious."

  "Now just a - I began, but Anna could not have heard me.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

  "It means I don't think we have to look any further than this room."

  "You mean he left because of me?"

  "I can't see any other reason. And after this display, that seems more than enough." Anna stared at him. When she spoke her voice was low and throaty with emotion. "How dare you!

  How dare you! What right have you got to come here and say that? Who the hel do you think you are?"

  "I'm his father, that's - '

  "Then why don't you start acting like it?" she snapped. "Show some bloody concern for a change! You act like you're not even interested in what's happened to him! Al you seem bothered about is the

  "inconvenience" he's caused, and getting back to your ... your stupid little company! And you've got the nerve to stand there and tel me it was my fault Marty left? Christ, how would you know? You're one of the reasons he came here in the first place. If anyone drove Marty away it was you, years ago!"

  There was silence. The area around Westerman's nose was white. "I think I'l wait outside for the cab." Anna was trembling. Her flush had died, leaving her face pale. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "If you would be so kind as to fetch my coat." Without another word, Anna went to get it. Westerman and I stood without looking at each other. Anna came back and handed it to him.

  "Thank you. I'l see myself out." I thought Anna was going to say something else, but she remained silent. Westerman went into the kitchen. We heard the front door open and close.

  "Oh, shit!" Anna said. She looked about to burst into tears. "Excuse me." She almost ran out of the lounge. I heard her lock herself in the bathroom.

  After a while I poured myself a brandy and sat down to wait.

  It was some time later before she came back. Her face had been scrubbed clean of make-up. Her eyes looked red. She sat down, giving me a weak smile.

  "Wel . That wasn't exactly a rip-roaring success, was it?" I went to pour her a drink. "That was hardly your fault. That man has to be one of the most obnoxious people I have ever met." She bit her lip, fretful y. "I shouldn't have said that to him, though. About Marty."

  "I don't see why you should feel bad about it. The man showed no concern for your feelings."

  "I know, but ... wel , I just wish I hadn't. Things are bad enough between him and Marty without me making it worse like that."

  "I stil think he asked for it. He was the one being unfair. Al you did was defend yourself." She didn't answer. She rested her head back on the chair, looking tired. "I'd better get in touch with the university tomorrow. I don't want them throwing anything out."

  "I'm sure they won't do that. Certainly not just on his say-so. I dare say whoever he spoke to is capable of seeing for himself what sort of a man he is."

  "I hope so. I think I'l stil give them a cal , though." Her face contorted. "How could he do something like that?"

  "Perhaps it's his way of punishing Marty for the "inconvenience"."

  "The inconvenience," she echoed. "God, I wish that's al it was." Abruptly, she stood up. "Wel , I better clean everything up. Thanks for coming, Donald. I'm sorry it was such a rotten evening."

  "At least the food was good." She smiled, politely, but did not respond to the compliment. It was obvious she wanted to be alone. I offered to help with the washing up out of courtesy, but was not surprised when she refused. I said goodnight and left.

  Despite Anna's views on the subject, in my opinion the evening had by no means been al bad. As much as I despised Wester-man, I was stil realistic enough to realise that his prejudice was perhaps the best thing that could have happened. Particularly if he communicated it to the police. He was over for another ten days. Provided nothing untoward was discovered during that time, I could not see the investigation carrying on for long afterwards. Cautiously, I al owed myself the luxury of optimism once again.

  It was therefore al the more disconcerting when the police found their first lead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was only a few days after the meal that the two policemen came into

  the gal ery. One was in uniform, the other plain clothes. Both Anna and I immediately stopped what we were doing.

  "Miss Palmer?" the one in plain clothes asked. He was the tal er of the two, a heavy set, military-looking man with a thick moustache several shades paler than his hair.

  Anna had tensed. "Yes?"

  "I'm Detective Inspector Lindsey, this is Sergeant Stone. Could we have a word with you please?" Al the colour had drained from Anna's face. I doubt I can have looked very much better. I had my own fears. "Why? What about?"

  "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" The policeman glanced at me. I felt a nauseous touch of paranoia.

  "It's al right, you can talk to me here," Anna said, interpreting the look. "This is about Marty, isn't it?"

  "It might be better in private."

  "There's the office," I said, but Anna shook her head.

  "No, it's al right, I'd rather you stayed." I was too anxious to feel flattered, by no means certain I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  Anna turned back to the policeman. She was holding herself rigid.

  "Have you found him?" Her voice was deliberately calm.

  The policeman looked away from me. From that point on, I ceased to exist for him. "No, we've not found him yet. But we do have a possible lead." He paused. I could smel the sour, rotten smel of cigarettes on his breath. "This may be a little upsetting for you, but I've got to ask if your boyfriend has any homosexual tendencies that you're aware of?" Anna now looked more confused than frightened. "Homosexual tendencies? No. Not at al . Why?"

  The policeman ignored her question. "Has he ever given you cause to suspect that he may be homosexual?"

  "No, of course not! Why?" Suddenly, I saw the connecti
on. Blood rushed to my head as I struggled to keep the realisation from my face.

  "We've received an identification from someone who claims to have seen your boyfriend in a gay club in Soho," the policeman went on. I told myself it could not be the same club where Marty had met Zeppo. Surely no one would remember him from a single visit. But the thought did little to reassure me. I became aware that the sergeant was looking at me. I tried to ignore him.

  "Recently?" There was a note of hope in Anna's voice.

  "Before he disappeared. We don't have a definite date. But we've reason to believe he went there several times." Some of the tension drained out of Anna. She seemed suddenly disappointed. "Which one was it? The Pink Flamingo?" Both policemen looked at her in surprise. "You know about it?" the senior one asked.

  "Yes. Marty went there quite a few times. He went to one or two others, as wel , but I can't remember what they're cal ed." He stared at her. "I thought you said he hadn't any homosexual tendencies?"

  "He hasn't. He didn't just go to gay clubs. He went to other types as wel . It was part of his research."

  "Research?" The very flatness of his tone conveyed his incredulity.

  "That's right. He's taking a PhD in anthropology. He's writing a paper on behavioural patterns in different types of nightclubs. How it's affected by money, sexuality. That sort of thing."

  She sounded as though she were reciting it by rote. It was similar enough to what Marty had told Zeppo to convince me she was.

  The two policemen exchanged a look. "So your boyfriend told you he went to gay clubs as part of his studies?" The colour was back in Anna's face now. More than was normal. "He didn't just "tel " me. That's why he went. Marty's not gay, if that's what you're trying to make out."

  "We're not trying to make anything out, Miss. We just want to establish his reason for going. Did you ever go to any of these gay clubs with him?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm a girl. If Marty went with me, we'd attract attention. It would be obvious we were a couple. Marty wanted to blend into the background, so he could just ... you know, observe without bothering anyone."

  "How far did he actual y go in order to blend in?"

  "I've told you, he used to sit and watch. That's al ."

  "But you never actual y went with him."

  "No. Look, what's the point of al this? I want to know "where Marty is now, not weeks ago!" The policeman nodded, placatingly. "So do we, Miss. I know this isn't very pleasant for you. It's not for us, either, but it's the first lead we've had, and we've got to see if it's worth fol owing up or not.

  I've got to ask you these questions, if only so we can discount it, you understand?" He waited for Anna's terse assent before continuing.

  "Now, how often did he go to these clubs?" Anna shrugged, sul enly. "I don't know. A few times. Not often."

  "Once a week? Twice a week?"

  "Less than that. I've told you, it wasn't often."

  "Once a month, then?"

  "Perhaps. Something like that."

  "Did he go on any particular nights? I mean, was it always on a Friday, or a Saturday? Or at a certain time of the month?"

  "No, it varied. He went on different nights so he could compare them."

  "And did he ever mention anyone he had met?" My heart jumped at the question. "He didn't go to "meet" anyone!" Anna snapped. "He went purely as an observer. How many more times do I have to say it?"

  "He never mentioned anyone in particular, then? No names?"

  "No."

  "So he just used to sit in a corner and mind his own business? What if someone came up to him?" Anna's colour had concentrated into two points of red on her cheeks.

  "Wel , I suppose he spoke to some people, obviously. But he never used to go out of his way to talk to anyone. He only spoke to them if they came up to him first. Look, I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't like that!"

  "Did he ever tel you what he talked about?"

  "Yes, sometimes. It was always to do with his work."

  "But he never told you who he used to speak to?"

  "I've told you, it wasn't anyone in particular! He used to go and just

  .. just look, that's al . And he's not been for weeks, now anyway! If you don't believe me, ask the university! They know al about it!"

  "I'm sure they do. Did he ever stay out al night?"

  "No, of course not!"

  "Late, then?"

  "No! I mean, sometimes it would be two o'clock, or something, but that's al ."

  "Have you any idea why he was interested in this particular field?" Anna hesitated, searching for a concrete fact to repudiate the policeman's insinuations. "He's an anthropologist!

  That's the sort of thing they do. He thought it was a … a worthwhile field of study, that's al . The same as the other aspects of his thesis. This was only a part of it, you know."

  "Have you any homosexual friends?"

  "No."

  "Did he keep notes about his visits to these clubs? A diary, perhaps?"

  "He doesn't keep a diary, but he makes notes about the clubs he visits," Anna said. I felt my heart lurch again. That had never occurred to me.

  "Are al his notes at the university?"

  "Most of them, yes. Some of them are at the flat."

  "Would it be al right if we had a look at them?" I could see Anna did not like the idea. I found myself wildly hoping she would refuse. "I suppose so," she said, reluctantly. "But if you're hoping to find anything incriminating, you're wasting your time."

  "We're not looking for anything incriminating, Miss. We only want to find out where he is, the same as you." His tone was condescending.

  "Wel , trying to make out he's gay isn't going to do any good. I don't know why he went, but it wasn't because of that. I live with him, for God's sake, don't you think I'd know if he was?"

  "I'm sure you would. But we've got to examine every possibility, haven't we? It could be, for instance, that someone he met at one of these clubs knows where he is now."

  "You mean he might have run off with another man," Anna said flatly.

  "I don't mean anything. At this stage I'm just keeping an open mind."

  "Is that what you cal it?"

  "Look, Miss '

  "If that's al , you'l have to excuse me. I've work to do." She turned her back and walked away. I heard her footsteps going upstairs.

  The policemen looked at each other. The sergeant shrugged with his eyebrows. The inspector turned to me. "Can you tel Miss Palmer we'l be in touch about her boyfriend's notes?

  We'd like to look at them as soon as possible." I nodded, trying to gather myself. I did not trust my voice. But I could not leave it at that. "Do you think this could have some bearing on his disappearance?" I asked.

  Upset by Anna walking out, he tried to intimidate me. He stared for a moment without speaking. "I real y don't know, sir. Have you any ideas on the subject?"

  "Me? Oh, no, not at al . Wel , except that Marty didn't strike me as being gay."

  "Wel , then, perhaps he's not. We'l just have to see, won't we, sir? Thank you for your time." His tone was so exaggeratedly polite it bordered on parody.

  "How did you find out about the nightclubs? Is it standard procedure?"

  "Wel , it is and it isn't," he said. "Mr. Westerman's description was included with a bunch of missing teenage boys by accident. The gay community's like a magnet for missing teenage boys. Amazing how many of them end up there. As it turned out, your Mr. Westerman was the only one our source recognised." He smiled coldly. It seemed designed to try and intimidate more. "So you see, not al police cock-ups are bad ones, are they?" On their way out, the sergeant stopped and studied a painting. "My wife would love that." It was the first time he had spoken. "How much is it?" I told him. He looked at it again. "Jesus Christ." They left.

  I knew now I could not put off tel ing Zeppo any longer. I telephoned him that evening. For once he answered almost straight away. He seemed in an
irritatingly good mood.

  "Wel , wel . If it isn't the poor man's Tate. What can I do for you? Don't tel me you've done something else stupid, have you?"

  "No I haven't. But I think we'd better talk."

  "Why? Is Anna begging for it already?"

  "Just come over as soon as you can. I'm at home." He became more serious. "What's wrong?"

  "Probably nothing, but you stil ought to hear about it."

  "Hear about what? What's happened?"

  "I'l tel you when you get here." I hung up before he could say anything else. I knew that was the fastest way of getting him over, and took the receiver off the hook as an afterthought. I did not relish the prospect of facing him with the news, but I could not trust it to the telephone.

  He wasted no time in coming. "So what's happened?" he demanded, before I had even closed the door. I took a deep breath.

  "The police came to the gal ery today. It seems that someone has identified Marty from one of the gay clubs." Zeppo closed his eyes and put his head back. "Shit! Oh shift He slapped his hand against the wal .

  "It's not as bad as al that '

  "Like hel it's not! Where did they see him?"

  "Don't worry, it wasn't the same club you went to. It was another one."

  "You're sure?"

  "They said it was The Pink Flamingo. The one he went to regularly.

  That's the only reason he was recognised. And even that was only by accident." Zeppo's hand was stil on the wal . He was staring up at the ceiling. I went on quickly. "There's no reason for them to link him to you. In fact, this could turn out for the best. From what the police were asking Anna, they seemed to think that Marty was homosexual, and that he might have run away with another man." Zeppo stopped gazing at the ceiling and looked at me. "Are you real y that stupid? Turn out for the best? Do you know what's going to happen now?

  Eh? They're going to go around every gay club in London to see if anyone else remembers him. And what

  happens when they get to the club I met him in? Suppose someone there remembers seeing him with me?"