Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  “Bugger!”

  “That’s what I thought. I told him red primer came first, then undercoat, often grey. But he wouldn’t be shaken off, said as he was here he just wanted to go on board and have a look round out of interest. I told him we were closed for the weekend and were tired after a long journey. He said he’d come back tomorrow. I put him off till Tuesday.”

  “Can we be away by then?”

  Andrew shrugged. “I’ve got things to do, a business to run. I’ll do what I can.”

  “I’ll call Marnie,” said Anthony. “You’ve bought us some time. At least we’ve got tomorrow.”

  *

  Marnie sat on the stairs and phoned Jane, who offered to see her at nine the next morning before leaving to spend the day cooing over her new grandson. This was at least something, but it left Marnie with a problem. There seemed little point in travelling back to Knightly St John for the night. With no chance of staying over with Mrs Jolly, Marnie thought through the options. Beth and Paul were away for the weekend and she did not have their door key with her. She pressed the buttons for Faye Summers. Answerphone. Bank holiday weekend, of course.

  Marnie got up and opened the front door to look down the line of moored boats. There was a gap where Roger kept Rumpole, so that chance was ruled out. Pulling the front door closed, she was starting to resign herself to another dash and early getaway when an idea formed in her mind. If Simon had not already left, perhaps ... She checked the number in her notebook and pressed the buttons. It rang half a dozen times.

  “Simon Walker.”

  “It’s Marnie, hi. Listen, I’ve got a big favour to ask.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Is it right you live in Docklands?”

  “Yes, by Tower Bridge. I’ve got a flat.”

  “I don’t suppose I could possibly use it as a base, just for a day or two?”

  “Of course. Why not move in permanently?” There was a smile in his voice.

  “One night – possibly two – would be fine.”

  “Oh well, it’s a start. Seriously, though, feel free to make yourself at home. I’ll leave a key at the lodge.”

  *

  Marnie saw Anne off at Euston – she did not feel she could invite her to stay at Simon’s – and rang Ralph to give him the arrival time for picking her up from MK Central. She took a black cab and made good time through the City of London, crossing Tower Bridge and diving into the back streets that ran parallel with the Thames. The old wharf buildings were now among the smartest residential addresses in the capital, rising above narrow cobbled lanes lined with boutiques, restaurants and bistros.

  Marnie got out at the corner of the main block and walked through to the centre of the buildings to find the porter’s lodge where Simon had left his key for collection. It turned out to be a piece of grey plastic like a credit card. The porter directed her to the end of the block where she would find the entrance and the lift up to Simon’s flat.

  She found the lobby and stood in the doorway pressing three of the buttons on the panel by the glazed door, using the sequence given her by Simon. Problem: what to do with the security card? She knew she had to use it to gain admittance but could not find a slot for it. She ran her fingers over the display panel like a blind person reading Braille. In tiredness and frustration she wanted to kick the door in and was turning to go back to the porter for help, when a voice behind made her jump.

  “I think it’s probably my fault.”

  She spun round. “Simon!”

  “I think I forgot to explain the system properly. Here.” He took the card from her, pressed the three-number code and held the card flat against the panel under the keypad. With his other hand he pulled on the door handle and it swung smoothly open. He kissed her on the cheek and guided her through the entrance hall to the lift.

  “You said you were going away.”

  “I am.” He pressed the button for the lift.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m going a little later than planned. Something came up.” The doors slid open, and Simon ushered Marnie inside. “Don’t look so worried. It’s a nice flat. You’ll like it.” The lift ascended without a sound.

  He was right. The flat was spacious with a large living area, mahogany wood-strip flooring, scattered with oriental carpets. The walls were emulsioned in pale honey, the wall-lights and table lamps in brass with cream shades. Three sofas covered in an ivory fabric were grouped around a low, glass-topped table. The walls were hung with large oil paintings, abstracts on the theme of London’s riverside. Opposite, by the wide expanse of windows looking down the Thames towards the Isle of Dogs, was a dining area. Drawn by the view, Marnie crossed the room.

  They were four or five floors above ground level, and no sounds penetrated from outside. The view was bounded by a horizon of low hills. Here and there high-rise blocks of flats jutted up, and away over to the left, beyond the choppy waters of the river, the bulk of Canary Wharf dominated the landscape, its pyramid roof touching clouds, flashing like a lighthouse in the evening sky. Simon spoke from the other side of the room.

  “You look just right standing there, Marnie. It looks like your kind of place. What do you think of it?”

  “It’s as I expected.” Remembering that she was accepting Simon’s hospitality, she politely added, “It’s beautiful. Great view, very stylish, goes well with your car.”

  “My car?”

  Still looking out of the window, she laughed gently. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you brought it up here at night, probably has its own room.”

  “Not a bad idea,” said Simon. “I’ll bear it in mind. Though actually there’s a snag.”

  “You haven’t got a bed big enough for it?”

  “Good guess. In fact I’ve got three bedrooms, but two are set up as an office and a junk room. Perhaps I should’ve mentioned that only one bedroom’s functional. I hope you won’t mind sharing my bed.”

  20

  Marnie yawned on the train. She had been yawning on and off all morning after a night with little sleep. As the miles rolled past the window, she watched for the canal cutting its way through the counties north of London, neglecting the cappuccino she had bought at a kiosk, while she relived her conversation with Jane Rutherford. She wished she had not stayed the night.

  The conductor came through the carriage, a West Indian with a cheerful face.

  “Good morning, madam.”

  Marnie held up her ticket and asked what time they were due to arrive.

  “That’ll be ... sixteen minutes past eleven.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And we’re running right on time.”

  “Amazing.”

  The conductor laughed, a rich warm chuckle. “Don’t be like that!” He flashed a smile of gleaming white teeth in a mahogany face. Marnie smiled back. He added, “That’s why we’re called Virgin Trains, you know.”

  All right, I’ll buy it, she thought. “Why’s that?” she said.

  “Because there’s a first time for everything!”

  Infectious laughter broke out around them and, surrounded by an aura of good humour, the conductor continued on his way. Feeling a little more cheered, Marnie took a sip of her cooling cappuccino and made a quick call to Ralph to let him know her ETA.

  *

  At about the time Marnie was speaking to Ralph, DCI Bartlett received a call from Sergeant Marriner at the hospital. Bartlett had sent him to check on the condition of Gary Rawlings in Intensive Care. It was bad news.

  *

  The conductor was right. The train pulled in at MK Central as the platform clocks recorded eleven-sixteen precisely. Marnie walked out through the station’s glazed facade and spotted the Volvo in the car park. Ralph waved as he and Anne came to meet her, good dependable Ralph.

  After hugs all round, they travelled the familiar route to Knightly St John. It felt marvellous to be coming home, and Marnie relaxed in the front seat.

  “I hope you�
�re hungry,” said Anne. “Ralph and I have been slaving away in the galley on Thyrsis all morning.”

  Marnie had eaten nothing since the previous day, apart from a biscuit at Jane’s, but had no appetite. “Great,” she lied.

  “How did you get on with Jane?” said Ralph. “Are you seeing her daughter?”

  Marnie sighed. “It was all rather unsatisfactory. Rachel’s away on business.”

  “For how long?”

  “Jane didn’t know. It’s a nuisance, just when I wanted to press on and get things sorted.”

  “Oh dear,” Anne chimed in. “There’s another hold-up. Andrew phoned. They can’t leave the boatyard till tomorrow because of work.” She laughed. “He asked did you have any orders for him.”

  “Orders?”

  “I think he feels part of a military operation,” said Ralph.

  “What did you tell him?” Marnie’s voice sounded sharper than she intended.

  “In your absence I used my initiative, of course.” Ralph seemed slightly offended by the question.

  “And?”

  “I, er, told him I’d get you to ring when you got in.”

  Marnie laughed. “I don’t think I have any orders, apart from get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.” She looked down at the by-pass as Ralph swung the big car over the roundabout. “On second thoughts ... yes I have.”

  *

  Marriner was not looking forward to his meeting with Bartlett. He knocked on the door and went in. The DCI looked up from his desk, exasperated.

  “What the bloody hell’s going on, Ted?” he exploded.

  Not the most cordial greeting, but it could have been worse. With an impatient gesture Bartlett waved him to a chair.

  “Why didn’t anybody tell us what was happening?” he barked. “It’s not as if they didn’t know he was involved in a crime investigation!”

  Marriner shook his head. “I think it was a mix-up when they transferred him out of Intensive Care. They moved him to this room and next thing, a colleague of his from the Globe turned up with two paramedics in uniform and an ambulance. Rawlings discharged himself, and before anyone knew what was going on, he’d left.”

  “Jesus!” Bartlett banged the desk with his fist. “How could the hospital just let them do that? Didn’t it occur to anyone to inform us?”

  “Like I said, sir, it was when he was transferred.”

  “I heard you the first time. So what?”

  “Intensive Care transferred him out, and he’d left before the consultant even had a chance to see him on the new ward. The ward manager was told Rawlings was being transferred to another establishment. She rang the consultant, but they had no authority to stop him. He signed a disclaimer. I arrived ten minutes after he’d gone.”

  “Where did they take him?”

  “The nurse said they had a private ambulance from somewhere outside London ... near St. Albans, she thought.”

  “She thought? Didn’t she frigging know?”

  “It all happened so quickly.” Marriner raised his hands palms upward.

  Bartlett stared down at the desk, his brow furrowed, two clenched fists resting on the blotter. “What are they playing at?” he muttered.

  There was a knock on the door, and a young woman looked in.

  “Not now, Cathy,” said Bartlett.

  “It’s about the hospitals, sir,” she said. “Sergeant Marriner phoned in asking me to run a check and report here immediately.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “There are several private hospitals in the St. Albans area and quite a lot of clinics and nursing homes. You’re looking at around twenty places, I reckon.”

  “We can ring round to see if Rawlings has been moved to one of them, sir,” said Marriner.

  Bartlett nodded. “Get started, Cathy.”

  The door clicked shut, and Marriner made to get up. Bartlett looked at his sergeant. “The whole bloody thing’s fallen apart, Ted, just like that. One minute we’ve got a case, suspects at the scene, evidence, identification. Now, we haven’t even got a victim, and all the evidence has evaporated.”

  “You know what I think, sir? I was going over it in the car just now. I think we’re on the wrong track. We thought Walker was up to something and was trying to stop this photographer finding out what it was, so she tried to clobber him.”

  “What else could it be, Ted?”

  “It did occur to me, well, other people’ve been attacked round here by our phantom mugger, who just pops up and then disappears.”

  “Doesn’t make sense,” said Bartlett.

  “But Walker did visit the place where Frank Day was attacked. There is some sort of connection.”

  “You seriously think she was involved in the assault on Day?”

  “No, not really. But something else is going on. It must be. Marnie Walker’s not violent, and as for her professor, he couldn’t hurt a fly, nor could the girl, Anne. There’s got to be something we don’t know about.”

  “Rawlings is involved with Walker,” said Bartlett emphatically. “He didn’t say anything about muggers or anyone else. He accused her. And we’ve got proof she was at the scene.”

  “But the rest of the evidence –”

  “It’s a start. We may not have everything we need right now, but we’ll keep looking.”

  “We’ve searched every inch of the crime scene, sir. There’s nothing to link Marnie Walker with the victim except that he named her, I grant you that. But we’re missing something important.”

  “You’re right there, Ted. We’re missing our key witness, the victim. Get out there and find him.”

  Marriner got up. “Okay, sir. We’ll trace the hospital all right.”

  “Let Cathy follow that up,” said Bartlett. “You get on to his paper. Find out what they’re playing at.”

  *

  It was mild enough to eat outdoors. As soon as Marnie saw the table and parasol that Anne had set up on the bank, she realised how hungry she was and allowed herself to be pampered by the ‘galley slaves’. With a flourish, Ralph served asparagus with hollandaise sauce, followed by aubergine parmesan and a salad of tomato and basil in balsamic vinaigrette. He produced a bottle of Chianti, and Marnie felt more relaxed than she had in a long time.

  As usual, they planned as they ate, and Ralph’s insistence that they take the day off met no opposition. He proposed either a walk in the country or a ‘tootle’ on one of their boats. Marnie opted for the boat trip, reasoning that if they were being watched, it might be a good idea to let themselves be seen on their own boat in home waters, if they were suspected of being on a different boat a long way to the south.

  Anne had the table cleared in two minutes while Marnie made her phone call to Andrew.

  *

  They slipped gently along, the sun dodging in and out of light clouds, a cool edge to the breeze, and lambs playing in the fields. The three friends stood together on the stern deck of Sally Ann, with Marnie at the tiller. She yawned, and Ralph put his arm round her.

  Seconds later, Anne yawned too. “I’m going to need an early night,” she said. “I hardly slept at all last night.”

  “Why? What was the matter?”

  “I kept thinking about you in Simon’s flat. It seemed so strange.”

  “It felt strange. Anyway, it’s not as if Simon was there, except at the beginning.”

  “Oh?” said Anne.

  “Fortunately for me, he was still there when I arrived, showed me how to get in. The security arrangements are impressive. It’s Fort Knox. No-one could enter without a degree in electronics. Actually, I didn’t sleep much either.”

  “Worried you might not be able to get out?” Ralph suggested.

  “Too much on my mind, thinking about the newspapers.”

  “So was I,” said Anne. “Really depressing. I got up in the middle of the night and made a cup of tea.”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” said Marnie.

  “No, I w
as just feeling gloomy about the papers, the tabloids. They’re so stupid. They’ve got so much influence, and they’re always so negative, as if the public only wants to read about bad news. Why don’t they ever write about good things?”

  “Talking of bad news ...” said Ralph, pointing forward.

  They were rounding a bend and ahead of them about fifty metres further on, a boat was lying across the canal, completely blocking the way. Marnie throttled back, put Sally Ann briefly into reverse gear to slow it down, and they drifted up towards it. They could see the name High Jinx painted on the side of the boat, framed by a pattern of roses in bright colours.

  The boat itself was in a livery of green and red, with yellow lining and a faded black hull. It was about forty-five feet long, like Sally Ann, and on this stretch of water it could almost touch both sides of the canal at bow and stern. As they drew nearer they saw it was attached to the bank by a rope at the stern. The rope in the bows hung straight down into the water.

  Ralph went forward along the gunwale, grabbing the pole from the roof as he went, and stood in the bows, signalling to Marnie when she should bring Sally Ann to a complete halt. They eased forward until their nose button was within a metre of High Jinx. Anne went down through the cabin to help Ralph. When she stepped into the cratch she found they were almost nudging the bank. Ralph was holding their mooring rope, signalling to Marnie to ease forward.

  “Are we going to pull them off?” said Anne.

  Ralph nodded. “I’m going to attach this to their nose. When I throw it back to you, will you fasten it to our T-stud?”

  Anne clambered out of the cratch onto the prow, while Ralph stepped carefully across to the other boat. He tied the rope firmly and passed it back to Anne, who wound it in a figure-of-eight round the stud. Ralph signalled to go into reverse and poled off against the bank so that both boats began moving as one across the canal. Marnie soon had Sally Ann and High Jinx pulled over to the opposite bank.