“Drove it, shrink-wrapped it, sealed it and lowered it down inch at a time by shortening the winter cover straps very gingerly. Down it went, I topped up the pool and bought a new winter cover.”
“When you say you drove it…?”
“Using its own power.” He nodded at the pool. “I suppose you’d like to see it?”
“For my own peace of mind. How long does it take to empty the pool?”
It would take six hours to empty it completely, so I said I’d meet him halfway, three hours’ worth. He helped me to fold back the cover and expose the algae laden water. Trachelomonas grandis, he informed me. Single cell. And within an hour or so the water had lowered enough for us to see the top of a small, Subaru-like car, the shrink-wrap polythene still intact. An hour after that I could make out a rectangular box on the roof, covering the whole area, and made up of microscopic semi-conductors, their miles of surface absorbing, reflecting, absorbing, reflecting…
“The disc everyone got in such a flap about is inside the car, I take it?”
“Yes. Treble shrink-wrapped, sitting on the passenger seat.”
“I’ve seen enough,” I said, at about half past two.
“So now what?”
“That’s up to you, but I’ve no doubt you’ll do the right thing. You’re that kind of bloke. Meantime, while you decide, fill the pool up again.” I glanced over to where Marion was attacking a holly bush and giving it no quarter. “And we didn’t have lunch. Game pâté, you said?”
At the beginning of the following March I received a letter from Gerald Scott telling me that his wife had died, not as a result of her dementia but a heart attack, which just went to show. He didn’t specify what it showed but he was clearly relieved for Marion, though his sadness was all too apparent. However, if any man could cope with the triple tragedy of losing his son to murder, his wife to the disintegration of her mind and then her sudden death, it was Gerald Scott. He added that she’d been a danger to herself in recent months, so much so that he feared she might fall into the swimming pool and drown. He’d had it filled in and paved over. He hoped me and my family were well.
Scattered Remains (Nathan Hawk Mystery) Page 25
