To her own surprise Charmian ate with appetite, and saw the others doing the same. But they ate with speed. They needed to get on to the talking.
‘Saw you in the Chapel yesterday. I wanted to talk to you, but you went off so quickly.’
Anny was clearing away the plates and putting out some cheese.
‘Yes, I wanted to walk.’
Anny gave her a sceptical look. More to it than that, her eyes said, don’t think I don’t know.
‘Jack, pour out some more wine. We could all do with some. So you had a look at the bodies in the morgue this morning? I wanted to take a look, did you know that?’
‘No, Anny, you kept that from me.’ Deliberately, no doubt.
‘And from me, too,’ said Jack sourly.
‘It seemed to me a legitimate request. I have an interest, after all. It might have been Kate.’
Charmian looked at her friend. Anny was calmer and more cheerful than for some days past. ‘ But you don’t think so.’
Anny sipped some wine. ‘I had a pang when you told me there were no heads. That churned me up a bit. Bound to. For the moment.’
‘Have you heard from Kate?’ Charmian demanded. ‘Another telephone call?’
Jack said: ‘Anny thinks she knows where Kate is.’
‘I remembered something about that first telephone call. For a bit I thought it might be from a railway station. Then I thought maybe from a hospital … Now I’m sure it was from an air terminal.
As I look back there was that special quality to the sound. I made Jack drive out to Heathrow and phone me to test it.’
‘She did too,’ said Jack.
‘And it was like, very like. They were flying out somewhere. Or Kate was.’ There was an intense look on Anny’s face; she had made up her mind. ‘She is abroad. I don’t know exactly where but she doesn’t know about all that has been going on here and when she does she will come back.’
It was another version of Harold English’s story of the couple in Scotland.
‘And that makes you feel better?’ asked Charmian, who vividly recalled the message Kate had left: You will see Harry again. Or a bit of him. The bit I let go.
A nightmare picture of what Kate might be flying out with shot into her mind. Was it one head or two?
‘You’re not convinced?’ said Jack. ‘Don’t know that I am myself really. The old girl goes up and down. First one theory, then another. Swings and roundabouts.’
‘Shut up,’ said Anny fiercely. ‘I know, I tell you.’
Charmian looked down at her hands. To her horror they were shaking slightly. ‘No one really knows yet who these two dead people are. Eventually, by working on the blood groups, which can be infinitely refined down and subdivided, it may be possible to tell who they are not.’ Not Kate and Harry, she hoped. ‘Even, possibly, if the hospital has some specimens from Amanda Rivers and Jim Cook and I gather they have because they were both cooperating in a survey testing a new drug, there may be a good guess at who they are. It may not be absolutely necessary to have the heads. But that time has not yet come.’
‘Are the heads at the house? Or at the farm where the cases were found? Has anyone looked?’
Charmian had stopped her hands shaking by holding them together. ‘I know that there was a very thorough search of the farm early on. I understand that another search is going on now. But as far as I know, although there were traces of blood on the farm, there was not much, not enough to suggest that either the killing or the cutting up was done there.’
‘And the house?’
‘That’s being done now. We’ll have to wait.’ She thought that they would find plenty of evidence of blood there. Her bet was the bathroom, but it might be that scullery place behind the kitchen. There was a kind of murder and blood feel to that house. She shivered, although it was warm in Anny’s place.
‘You look exhausted.’ Jack showed his sympathy in a practical way by pouring out some more claret. He did not usually waste either drink or sympathy on Charmian. She was not one of his favourite people. He had a pretty shrewd idea how she judged him, and in reply would say he didn’t care for women police officers. But in his heart he knew that he was more than a little jealous of her. There was a bond between her and Anny that even marriage could not match. Nothing sexual, he knew his Anny better than that, Charmian too probably, and, anyway, he would have known how to deal with that, but something just as strong and deeper in their lives. You had to call it friendship but it was a weak word for a powerful thing.
‘A day that starts with a visit to the morgue is not my ideal way of beginning the day’s work.’
‘What did you do after that then?’
‘Oh I got on with work of my own,’ she said vaguely. In fact, she had spent some time in pointless pursuit of Miss Macy, the patroness of the handicapped children, who had proved elusive. Not in her little house, nor in the charity shop where she helped in the morning. But the charity shop produced the information that Miss Macy had gone with a cousin to a gardening show but would be back tomorrow. Charmian would see her then.
Baby too had been hard to track down. Definitely in hiding, which was both interesting and alarming. Afterwards, she had had a searching session with her supervisor, who could, she had discovered, be uncommonly tough. ‘That was in the morning. Then in the afternoon I went to London to talk about my next job.’
Anny looked surprised. ‘I thought you’d be working here for a bit.’
‘There’s a time limit on that,’ said Charmian.
‘Oh?’ Anny gave her a searching look.
‘I only had a sabbatical term. It’s coming to an end,’ she explained. ‘Of course, I’ll continue in my own time. Finish it. If I can.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’
‘I don’t think I’m a scholar.’ No she definitely was not, but she would go on with this, if she could. She owed that much to the group whatever happened to them. Nothing nice was coming, that was sure.
‘I’d like to go on living here, though.’
Anny looked pleased. ‘ Sure. I’ll do some more to the flat, if you’re really going to settle.’
‘You’ve done enough. It’s lovely. No really, Anny.’ She got to her feet, feeling heavy. I must go. Thanks for the meal. That was lovely too.’
Anny came with her to the door. ‘Is the job in London a good one?’
‘It will mean promotion. If all goes well.’
‘You’ve never put a foot wrong in your career.’
‘Is that what you believe?’ Charmian laughed, but without humour. ‘ Well, I can think of plenty that could go wrong now.’
‘You don’t seem too pleased with yourself. Is it Humphrey? No? Jerome then? You do like him?’
Charmian nodded.
‘He’s a bit of a wild card. You know he put his wife on a pedestal and looked up. That’s always dangerous. I’m just saying.’ She added: ‘Of course, she did die tragically, just after the baby was born.’
‘Jerome’s years younger than I am.’
‘As if that made any difference.’
Anny kissed Charmian’s cheek and Charmian put her arm round Anny’s shoulder. For a moment the two friends stood together.
‘If I learn anything positive, one way or another, about Kate, I’ll let you know, Anny. You shan’t be kept waiting.’
‘She’s still alive, Char.’
‘Sure.’
Charmian closed the door carefully behind her and went up the stairs to her own place.
Muff greeted her with enthusiasm. The day had been all too quiet for that creature’s taste. Muff liked a little excitement and loving company. Also she was hungry. The food left out had been a delicate piece of cod, speedily eaten and digested.
She put her point of view in a long carefully articulated sentence. Charmian stroked her head, then opened a tin of cat food. It was Muff’s favoured brand and she accepted the dish put before her with a tiny chirrup delivered from the back of her throat. Bot
h parties recognised this as a gesture of extreme politeness.
Charmian did not go to bed at once, although she was more tired than she had been for a long while. It had been a draining day, with undertones of horror that lingered with her.
Nor had she wanted Anny’s words of warning about Jerome. She loved Anny, but she occasionally resented her. Anny could come on powerfully at times, and then she felt weak.
She undressed slowly, wandering around the flat thinking. It would be a good place to live, if she was going to live in Windsor at all. Easy to commute to London. There was even a train service from the splendid Victorian station built for the young Queen and her consort. She could walk from the station to Wellington Yard. No problem.
Muff called from the door. Bed, she suggested, in a peremptory yet persuasive voice.
‘Coming, Muff.’
There were three investigations going on in Windsor at that time and her path had crossed with all three.
She had come across Dolly Barstow on the doorstep of Amanda Rivers’ house when they were both looking for the doctor for different reasons. Dolly Barstow had thought Dr Rivers might be able to help with the case of the missing babies. Charmian had hoped the young doctor might know something about Kate.
What they had found had been worse. At that point two investigations had crossed.
And then there was her own special enquiry, investigation or mission, call it what you like. From whence came the feeling that this too had its link?
Emotionally it was linked and the link came through people. Kate to Charmian. Kate to Amanda Rivers. Amanda Rivers to Dolly Barstow and to Charmian. Invisible threads stretching from person to person.
Muff summoned her to bed, and she went. Lying on her back, eyes closed, seeking sleep like a cure for an illness.
Suddenly she jerked away. She was remembering something Anny had said. She had talked of the ‘first’ telephone call from Kate as if she personally, and not only Jack, had taken another call.
Did that mean she had heard from Kate?
Chapter Twelve
CHARMIAN WAS EARLY visiting Anny next day. She was up and dressed, ready for work and on Anny’s doorstep as the postman came into the Yard with the letters.
Anny opened the door in her dressing gown. Her hair was untidy but otherwise she seemed alert and cheerful. ‘Oh, it’s you. I’m just making some coffee. Come into the kitchen and have a cup.’
The postman had got to her door, and was handing her a clutch of letters. Without looking at them, she put them in her pocket. ‘Open them later.’
‘Any for me?’ asked Charmian. The postman sorted through his bundle and handed her a couple. The one on top she recognised as being from her mother, and there was a card that looked like business underneath. She’d read them later. Her mother’s missives were entertaining but never full of hot news. In the kitchen she accepted a mug of coffee.
‘Just going to take some in to Jack.’ Anny went to the door. ‘He’s in a bad way this morning, poor old soak. We shouldn’t have left him with the claret. Always does him in.’ She sounded loving, though, which was by no means always the case with Anny.
Charmian waited till she came back. ‘Anny, have you had a telephone call from Kate? A recent one?’
‘No.’ But Anny did not meet her eyes. She turned away to pour some more coffee for herself. ‘Not exactly.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had a telephone call and a woman’s voice said: “Did the flowers come?” Then we were cut off. Or the line went dead. I think the call was from abroad.’ Anny sounded quietly triumphant, as if she had made a prophecy and it had come true.
‘And did the flowers come?’
‘No, no flowers.’
‘Anny, that could have been from anyone.’ Privately, she wondered if Anny was making it up.
‘I’m sure it was Kate because of the flowers. Yesterday was Kate’s birthday. You’d forgotten but I hadn’t. It was a tradition with us that Kate sent me flowers.’
Charmian knew this was true. Kate did send flowers.
‘I’ll know when the flowers come,’ Anny went on. ‘Red roses. Wine red, blood red, my favourite sort.’
‘I don’t think it counts as evidence that would stand up in court.’
‘Oh of course, you would say that.’ Anny turned away angrily. ‘Oh all right. I’m not mad, and I’m not sure. Of course I’m not. But I’m hoping, I’m terribly much hoping.’ She pulled at the handkerchief in her pocket and the letters fell to the ground.
Charmian bent to pick them up to give them to Anny. ‘I’ll be off,’ she said uncomfortably.
On top of the little pile of letters was a card. Anny stared at it. ‘Wait a minute. Look at this.’
On one side of the card was Anny’s name and address. On the other was the slogan VIRGINIA’S FLOWERS, and underneath a handwritten message: ‘We are holding a bunch of flowers for you. We tried to deliver yesterday but could get no reply. Will you call to collect or advise us when we can deliver?’
Charmian handed it back slowly. ‘Don’t you answer your door, Anny?’
‘I was working and Jack was out.’ She clutched at the card as if it was precious.
Charmian reached into her bag and drew out her own letters. She too had a card with a precisely similar statement. She held it out silently to Anny. ‘ I was out most of yesterday.’
‘Did Kate ever send you flowers?’
‘Once. Once before.’ Charmian had taken her godchild, then a first-year student, out to lunch and they had had a quarrel, nothing much, but Kate had sent flowers with an apology. Yes, Kate did send flowers.
‘I think I’m jealous,’ said Anny, but she sounded very happy. ‘Believe now?’
Charmian seized both cards. ‘ I’m dressed, you’re not. I’ll get the flowers and bring them back to us.’
A right turn out of Wellington Yard, then a few paces past the Robertsons’ shop (already open for the day) and another right turn to VIRGINIA’S FLOWERS.
She knew the shop but she had never been inside. For a moment she hesitated, looking into the large plate-glass window with VIRGINIA written across it in large golden letters. Pots of roses and carnations with a large flat bowl of violets decorated the window. The place looked expensive and beautiful. Virginia, whoever she was, obviously loved her shop.
Charmian pushed open the door and went in. The air smelt fresh and damp with a sweet overtone of growing things. There was no counter as such but a long white trestle table ran the length of the shop. Standing by it, with his hands in a tub of freesias and white cyclamen, was a young man. Underneath a flowing white overall he wore black silk jersey jeans, tapering to bare ankles with feet in black suede slippers. There was a golden bracelet around one ankle and a matching one around his right wrist. He turned a gentle friendly face towards Charmian.
‘Virginia?’ said Charmian doubtfully.
‘No,’ he smiled. ‘I’m not Virginia. She’s a chain. There’s one in Richmond and another in Roehampton and the top shop in Sloane Avenue. I believe there was a Virginia once, but she’s Mr Ramsey now. He owns us Virginians.’ Mixing sexes seemed to come naturally to him. He took his hands out of the freesias, dried them, and turned towards Charmian. ‘I’m Freddy. At your service.’
Silently Charmian presented the two cards.
‘Ah, you’ve come to pick them up. Our van tried to deliver them yesterday but in vain, so I popped the roses in the cool room and the cards in the post.’
‘You’ve got some lovely flowers here.’
‘Haven’t we? You wait till you see your roses.’ He disappeared through a louvred door at the back of the shop to reappear with two large bunches of roses, one deep red and the other a startling blue white.
Charmian gave a spontaneous exclamation of pleasure. ‘ What a beautiful white!’
‘Yes, Iceflow they are called. Very new. The red are good too, aren’t they? That true deep red, really royal.’
Blood red,
royal red.
‘Is there a card with them?’
‘No.’ Freddy was still smiling. ‘You don’t know who sent them? Lovely surprise for you.’
‘I’d like to know who sent them. We both want to know. I mean we want to say thank you. Can you find out who sent them?’
‘Well, I would if I could,’ said Freddy. ‘But the order was phoned down from head office and I know no more.’
‘Could you ask them?’
‘Well, I could. But I’ve never found them very helpful.’
‘Please?’
He put his head on one side, lips curving in a rapt smile. ‘For you, I will.’
‘Thank you.’ Charmian waited while he disappeared once again to the telephone. She could hear his voice in plaintive speech. The conversation went on for some minutes, with Freddy’s voice punctuated by silences while he waited for a response. Perhaps a search of the records was going on. Presently he came back.
‘I got a little bit from them but not as much as you want, I’m afraid. This time I don’t think they were being difficult, which is what I sometimes suspect them of. That girl at the end of the phone is not a friend. But really I don’t think they know more: they had a telephone call placing the order from abroad. It was done through the international “ Flowers By Request” arrangement and was paid for by an American Express card.’
‘Abroad? Where abroad?’
‘Paris.’
He had really done quite well, got a lot of information. ‘And the name of the sender?’
‘Ah well, they weren’t so helpful there. No message, you see, and they could hardly make out the name, the French chap not being great on English. Sounded like Roper.’
Or Cooper? So was it Kate?
‘Thank you.’ Charmian gave him her own special smile, reserved for nice helpful witnesses, and got his special smile back. Neither of them meant much by it. She gathered all the roses, red and white, to return to Wellington Yard.
Red roses, white roses. They probably were from Kate. But for what purpose? Kate remembering the birthday ritual? Or registering remorse for a deed done?
Windsor Red Page 14
