‘Then we could have struck lucky?’ Merridew asked casually.
I shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem so. I can’t be sure. She can’t be sure.’
Donaldson wasn’t prepared to leave it all to Merridew. He’d understood the warning, and he resented it. ‘Oh, come on!’ he cut in sharply. ‘Of course she’d know.’
‘There’s no face.’
‘His body, for Chrissake.’
‘She was unsure,’ I said very gently, not prepared to discuss Amelia’s married intimacies. ‘I’ll put it all in a report for you.’
‘How can she be uncertain?’ Donaldson nodded around. ‘She’d know her husband’s bits and pieces.’ He looked at Ken for his agreement in this proposition, but Ken looked blank.
‘She told me,’ I said, picking carefully through the words, ‘that she could not be certain.’
‘Oh, good Lord....’ Then Donaldson restrained himself. He looked miserable. ‘You’re not telling me she’s had so many men that she can’t sort out their bodies!’
I said: ‘No doubt you’ll make up your own mind about that.’ How I managed to smile at all I don’t know. It couldn’t have been very warm.
‘That I will. They don’t look, that’s the trouble. You have to push ‘em a bit.’ Donaldson was crisp and decisive.
‘All right,’ Merridew cut in. ‘We’ll get your report, Richard...’
Donaldson interrupted abruptly. ‘We could apply for a search warrant.’
His eyes, I saw, were soiled chips of ice. He felt himself to be isolated, and he was suspicious of what he saw as deliberate interference in his case. But his statement startled me, and I looked away. He was pushing too hard.
‘A search warrant?’ Merridew turned. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Donaldson cocked his chin. It made little jerking movements, lending accents to his words. ‘There’s a simple way to settle this. If it’s her husband, then his fingerprints’ll be all over their house. We’ll get a warrant and a team of men to go through the place...’
Merridew clawed at his arm. ‘Take it easy...easy...’
‘A warrant, that’s all we need.’ Now Donaldson’s impatience was directed at his Super.
‘There are no grounds,’ said Merridew firmly.
The two men stared at each other, while I clutched my pen and tried to control my dismay.
‘In any event...’ I began, and they turned to me as though they’d forgotten I was there. ‘In any event, she’s a tidy woman. Houseproud, even. And her husband’s been away for around three weeks. You can bet she’s polished every inch since then.’ I was unable to prevent myself from smiling openly, though I was thinking of Amelia, rather than expressing any feeling of triumph.
But Donaldson saw it only as contempt. He bristled.
‘And I’ll bet she’s polishing right now. This very minute. And we stand here while she does it! I could get round there...she wouldn’t know about warrants. She’d let us in, and once over the doorstep....’ He smiled thinly.
Everybody in that room knew that there were no grounds, legal or otherwise, for applying for a warrant. Not at that stage, anyway. In any case, it would have to weave its way through the usual channels. His suggestion, then, was at least unethical, and he couldn’t know Merridew’s fetish for sticking close to the book.
I felt a flush of anger, hot in my neck, and I knew that it was me he was pressing. He was suggesting, even, that it was I who should be elected to thrust my way into her house.
Ken cleared his throat. ‘It might not be necessary...’
I rescued him quickly, holding my voice level. ‘No need to use force. I’ll phone her. I’ll ask for her permission.’ Donaldson raised his eyebrows. ‘Shall I do that, Paul?’
Merridew was stiff with disapproval. ‘Do that,’ he said, short, clipped words. ‘Do that...Richard.’
Calmly, I reached forward the phone with the outside line and dialled her number. I lifted my eyes to Donaldson, challenging him to comment on the fact that I hadn’t needed to look it up. He was smiling complacently.
‘Amelia?’ I lowered my eyes, drawing a pad forward, the pen in my hand.
‘It’s you, Richard?’
‘I’m at the office. The opinion here — from my superior — is that the question of identity, as far as you’re concerned, can be settled very easily.’
‘Then you haven’t told them I’m positive about it?’
‘No. Because I’m not sure you are.’
She whispered my name, but I thought she sounded annoyed with me. Then: ‘How easily can it be settled?’
‘They want a team of men to come to your place and search it for fingerprints, and then see if they can find a match with the ones in the cottage.’
She had made light of what could be in store for her — had tried to — but I’d known she’d really been nervous and afraid. She’d now be imagining a troop of large men swarming all over her house, her peace and privacy invaded.
‘No!’ she gasped. ‘They can’t do that. Surely they can’t march in here...’
‘Not without your permission.’
‘Then they haven’t got it,’ she said, so quickly that the words trod on each other.
‘Or they could apply for a warrant.’
‘A lot of good that would do them,’ she said scornfully. ‘There’s not an inch I haven’t polished.’
‘I’ve told them that.’ I smiled into the phone. She must have detected it in my voice.
‘Well, what else have I got to do all day?’ she demanded, confiding with me her boredom.
‘I’m sure you’ve covered every inch. But an expert might discover something you’ve missed.’
‘You’re not alone, are you? They’re standing over you, I can just feel it. Do you want this, Richard? You, yourself?’
‘No.’
‘If they’re forcing it on you...’
‘It was my idea to ask you. I want to know the truth. But not necessarily in this way.’
She sighed. ‘I can’t face it. Not tonight. Tell them that, will you.’
‘I will.’
I hung up, and looked at their solemn faces. I offered up the top sheet of my note pad, on which I’d printed: NO!
‘This is pure fantasy!’ cried Donaldson angrily. ‘We stand here while he asks. Asks, blast it. Amelia! We’re on bloody Christian names!’
‘That’s enough,’ said Merridew.
‘What is this?’ Donaldson exploded. ‘Is this how you conduct murder investigations?’
‘We’ll discuss this in my office,’ Merridew grated.
‘Discussions!’ Donaldson dismissed them with contempt.
‘You know damn well you can’t barge into people’s homes,’ I told him calmly. ‘The proper way is a search warrant, if you can justify it. Which I doubt.’
‘You’re deliberately blocking this,’ he said tensely, and Merridew rasped: ‘My office!’
He turned and went out, white with anger. For one moment Donaldson glared at me, then he snapped round and followed his superior. He must have felt furious with frustration, trapped in a personal atmosphere that Merridew and I had built together over the years. Certainly, already, Merridew was uneasy.
Ken waited until the door was shut, but I got in first. ‘What’s Brason doing here?’
‘Helping. Local colour. You know.’
‘Then keep him away from Donaldson. The lad’ll get corrupted.’
He was amused, but dismissed it with a nod. ‘What’re you trying to do, Richard?’
‘Trying to sort something out.’
‘Yourself?’
‘You’re too smart.’ I’d miss working with him.
‘You’re going at it bull-headed, and you know it. What’s got into you? This woman got under your skin, has she?’
‘You don’t know a thing about it, Ken.’
He shook his head, smiling but unhappy. ‘Then take it easy. Try coasting the last lap, and get out of it in one piece. The w
ay you’re going, they’ll cut you in little pieces. Instead of letting you walk out of the front door, they’ll toss you in the ash can out back.’
‘Very poetic, Ken. Look, I’m grateful for the advice, but I’m still on duty. Throw me over an application form for a search warrant.’
‘You’re going to apply for it?’
‘Not there, you idiot. I want to get into Clive Kendall’s bungalow. That, at least, is still my case.’
‘After what you said about Donaldson’s chances, I can’t say much for yours. Here. This do?’
The form, a four-sheet set in non-carbon reproduction, was crumpled. I smoothed it with a heavy palm.
‘Ken,’ I said, ‘I’m beginning to smell a few unpleasant possibilities. I’m sure Kendall’s involved in this somewhere. I’m applying for a warrant, but I can’t possibly get it in time. So…if I have to lean heavily on the back door, I’ll at least have some sort of a reason.’
‘What d’you want me to do?’
‘Just keep out of it. You’re working for Donaldson now. Just don’t be around if things go wrong.’
He considered me silently for a moment. Then he pressed his palms on the desk and levered himself up. ‘I’m off home. Can’t bear to stay and watch you sticking your chin out.’
I crouched over the desk. Said nothing.
‘It’s what you’ll miss most, Richard, and you’re not even seeing it.’ He was being kind. His voice was relaxed. ‘The aggro — the opposition. You always liked a good fight.’
It hit me between the eyes. I hadn’t realised it, and he was so damned right. I looked down at the surface of my desk. ‘But I’m getting slower coming out of the corners, that’s it. D’you reckon it’s time I retired to the dressing-room?’
‘In your own time.’ He wasn’t even looking at me now, pretending to be searching for his coat. People ought to listen to Ken. He understands things. ‘Not in theirs, that’s the point. They retire you — that’s their end of it. You’re no longer on the books. But it’s what you feel that matters. Nobody’s got the right to tell you when you’re finished.’
I waited until he looked round. ‘But that’s exactly what they do.’
‘For God’s sake,’ he said, ‘there’s a whole world out there for you to take on.’
I grunted. The concept was too big to absorb in one thought. ‘I’ll bear it in mind. You say you’re going?’
He relaxed. ‘For your information, Donaldson’s got several teams following up routine missing husband and son reports, and we’ve put out a general trace. See you.’
‘Oh.’ I remembered, pointing the ball-pen. ‘One thing. If Brason’s still around, ask him to meet me tomorrow — say at ten o’clock, at the cottage.’
He was curious. Suddenly worried again. ‘It’s sealed.’
‘I guess it would be. Will you fix that up for me?’
He nodded, and by the time he’d closed the door behind him I was well into: Reason For Application. I could hardly put: because he’s a tricky bastard. I tried to treat it with due solemnity. After I’d completed it, and was dictating my report onto tape, Ken put his head in, stuck up a thumb, and said: ‘Ten o’clock it is.’
I sent down the tape and waited for the typescript. As this’d take some time — I’d put everything into it that I knew — I went down to the canteen for tea and a sandwich. I was wishing I knew for certain, then I could’ve circled my intentions around the single fact that Amelia’s husband was dead.
It was late when I left, quite dark. I used the side door into the car park. The Stag stood almost solitary on the stretch of tarmac, and Amelia was leaning against one of the wings.
I did not see her until I was nearly upon her. ‘Amelia?’
She was bundled up in her duffle coat, sheepskin mittens on her hands, and that little woollen hat on her head again. On the car’s bonnet was resting a white plastic bag.
‘You’ve been waiting for me?’
She nodded, a small, embarrassed smile on her lips, which looked purple in the dim orange light, standing meekly like a schoolgirl about to admit to an indiscretion.
‘But you should have come up. They’d have sent you up to my office from the front desk.’ There was time we might have spent together, now lost. ‘You look frozen.’ I put fingers to her cheek. ‘You are frozen. Why didn’t you come up, Amelia?’
‘I didn’t want to embarrass you.’
I snorted. ‘You’re coming for a drink.’
‘No.’
‘Right now. There’s a pub on the corner. Get some blood into your cheeks.’
I took her arm. She drew back, then reached across for the carrier bag. She offered it to me.
‘What’s this?’
‘Lock it in your car,’ she said. ‘It’s only an old shaving-soap bowl.’ She stared past my elbow. ‘After you phoned, I made a search. There could’ve been something I hadn’t polished or cleaned. You know, I think I’m getting obsessive — yesterday I found myself wandering round the house with a duster in my hand...’
‘You were saying?’ Slowly I said it, but with my heart racing.
‘I found it in a corner of the bathroom cupboard. How I came to miss it...But of course, it’s a long time since he used it —since he bought the electric one.’
‘You didn’t touch it?’
She giggled. ‘I lifted it out on the blade of a knife and tumbled it into here. I felt so silly.’
‘Not silly. Not silly at all.’ I was suddenly very serious. ‘You understand what this’ll mean?’
‘I know.’
‘Your life could become very uncomfortable.’
‘But I thought you’d be pleased to have it.’
‘Oh, but I am. Let’s go and get that drink.’
I locked the carrier in the car and led her away, one hand on her arm, bending my head to hers. I took her into the Snug and sat her at a table in the corner, then went to get her a double brandy, and a pint of bitter for myself.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, sitting down. ‘I didn’t ask if you like brandy.’
She found a weak smile for me, but there was strain in her eyes. ‘I certainly need something.’
I watched her with concern as she took a sip, and then another, watched the tenseness ease from the line of her jaw.
‘It wasn’t that it was necessary to steal it,’ I encouraged her softly. ‘No reason you should feel ashamed.’
‘No, no.’ She shook her head, then fumbled in her bag for cigarettes, but I knew it was because she didn’t want me to read what she was thinking. ‘You don’t understand.’ But now there was a cigarette to play with, and movements she could hide behind. ‘It was as though...giving you that shaving-bowl...as though I was handing over the last chance I have that he could be alive.’
‘It’s not really like that.’
‘I know. I’m too fanciful.’ She smiled bleakly.
‘And you’re making assumptions. The fingerprints might not match, anyway.’
‘But they will. I feel that.’ She drew deeply on the cigarette. ‘You know, Richard, thinking back — and how could I help thinking about it? — thinking back to that terrible place at the hospital, I can be a lot less emotional about it now. I wouldn’t need to go there again. Every detail’s as clear as crystal in my mind. And I realise I was blinded by...oh, confusion and distress and fear, I suppose. That sort of thing. But now — now I’m quite sure it’s him. My husband. I know it is, so I’m sure the fingerprints will match.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘You’re not sorry it isn’t Kendall?’
We’d buried something between us. ‘Not sorry at all, my dear.’
She pushed her half-finished drink towards me. ‘Can you finish this, Richard?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll get you something else.’
‘But I’m all right now. It was just me, being silly.’
I saw that she was speaking the truth. She was all right. In fact, she was more relaxed than I reme
mbered seeing her at any time, smoking now with one elbow on the table and the cigarette poised beside her face. Her eyes were fond, almost provocative.
‘What will you do with it?’ she asked.
‘When I’ve run you home, I’ll drive over to Divisional HQ with it, and take it into their lab.’
‘This late at night?’
‘No time to lose. There’ll be somebody on duty.’
‘You are determined, aren’t you?’
I couldn’t match her relaxation. I felt stiff and exhausted, the tension clamping down on me. ‘Yes, I’m determined. It’s still my job.’
‘Your job!’ Her eyes were mocking. Feigning disinterest, she stared absently beyond my shoulder.
‘I want it tied down. No holes anybody can climb through.’
‘Pride, Richard? Determined to beat your Mr Donaldson, is that it?’
I shook my head, aware that I must he appearing simply stubborn, and angry with myself ‘Don’t sneer, please. Never at Donaldson. I want to be able to convince him. Then maybe he’ll take it easy when he comes to see you.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She pouted. ‘Then it’s not pride and determination. Just being gallant, asserting your masculine protection.’
‘It’s not that. I’d call it helping, while I’m still in a position to.’
‘And it hasn’t occurred to you,’ she asked daintily, ‘that I can look after myself? Perhaps I’d prefer to?’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’re quite capable. But you’ve no idea...’
‘Now you’re annoyed. But I don’t want you to be. I just hoped to get you to see something a bit more clearly....’ She hesitated, then plunged on. ‘You do a job, to the best of your ability, and you’re proud of it. Success boosts you — I’ll bet it even makes you feel intoxicated.’
I was staring at her, not understanding. She reached forward and put a forefinger on my forehead. ‘Oh, please don’t frown at me. You look so frightening. Did you know you can frighten people? It’s true. But now I want you to listen and try to understand. Will you do that?’
‘Of course I’ll listen.’ I wasn’t sure about the understanding bit. I produced my pipe and tobacco tin, just in case the listening became too painful and I found myself in need of comfort.
‘You blamed me,’ she said softly, ‘so very severely for what I did for Clive Kendall. To you, I was just being a stupid, interfering woman, who ought to have known better. But can’t you understand that for me it was a job, a task, something I might take pride in completing? Allow me that, Richard. And if that task became difficult, then of course the pride in success was even stronger. I see you can appreciate that. There were difficulties, you see. Kendall himself was difficult. In some ways he was an impossible man to deal with, arrogant and self-opinionated, and resenting like hell that I was a woman. But I had to handle that. At any time at all I could’ve handed the case over to somebody else. But it was my first big, personal case, and I’d chosen it myself. Yes, I chose it. And d’you know why?’
Face Value (Richard and Amelia Patton) Page 11
