by Leo McNeir
“Before you ask me how I got your number, let me tell you I have friends in low places.”
Marnie froze. There was not exactly menace in the voice, but the tone was undeniably confrontational. Then it lightened up.
“Are you there, Marnie? Did I scare you?”
“Who is this?”
“You know who it is, and you were expecting me to ring. At least, that’s what I was hoping.”
“If you don’t tell me your –”
“Piers Wainwright.”
“Oh …”
“Was that pleasure or disappointment?”
“Neither. Look, Mr Wainwright –”
“Piers.”
“Piers, I’m sorry, I was in the middle of … what did you mean, friends in low places?”
“I got your number from one of Clive Adamson’s minions.”
“One of his staff gave out my private details? Why would they do that?”
“Because of my unfailing charm, and because I said you asked me to get in touch and I’d mislaid your business card.”
“So you lied.”
“Not a serious lie. Anyway, you did express interest in my work, or at least an understanding of what I do. That’s more than most people, who just see my paintings as wall decoration for the boardroom.”
“Piers, much as it’s a pleasure to hear from you …” What am I saying? “I do have a living to earn and I’m up to my eyeballs right now.”
“When are you coming to London again to see my work?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t any plans.”
“Marnie there are few people who can tell me what one of my paintings is about just after seeing it for the first time. Wouldn’t you like to see more? Now, where were we?”
“You were trying to persuade me to come and see your etchings.”
It was a weak joke that barely jogged the Richter scale of humour, but it had an unexpected impact on Wainwright.
“Etchings! So you do know more about my work than I thought. Not many people know I do etchings. When are you coming to my studio? There’s loads of stuff I’m dying to show you.”
“I’m heavily committed for a while, lots of projects on the go. I just don’t know when I’ll be free.”
“That’s okay. I’ll give you my number. No, it’s on my web site. No, better still, I’ll call you in about a week from now.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
He chuckled. “I don’t give up easily, Marnie. And you’ll enjoy seeing my stuff, I promise you, everything I’ve got.”
When they hung up, Marnie thought, Oh boy, how does he manage to get close enough to the canvas to paint without his ego getting in the way of the brush?
Anne breezed in carrying an empty tray. “Bob wants to talk to you about the services for the kitchen in the farmhouse. He says you’ll need to decide very soon if you’re going to install an Aga.” She went over to the kitchen area and pressed the button on the kettle. “Are you ready for coffee, Marnie?” She fetched milk from the fridge and reached up to the shelf for two mugs. “Marnie?”
“What? Sorry, Anne. What were you saying?”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Piers Wainwright.”
“So that’s why you’ve gone all thoughtful.”
“Got it in one.”
“Don’t tell me, another invitation to the Bright Lights and the Big Smoke … come up and see me sometime?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t accept?”
“What do you think?”
“I think something’s bothering you, Marnie.”
“Two days ago he and I were at an event during which one of the guests, a colleague and friend of his, is horribly killed in what may or may not have been an accident. I know I’ll be seeing that blazing car in my dreams for months to come. Yet he didn’t even mention it, not a word. That’s what’s bothering me.”
After coffee, Marnie reached for her own phone calls list and dialled the first number. Her sister was at home. Marnie explained that she and Anne were coming down to Little Venice and hoped they might get together with Beth for lunch or something.
“You cannot be serious! You’re winding me up, right?”
Oh God, Marnie thought, she’s gone into John McEnroe mode. “Of course I’m being serious. Why shouldn’t we come to Little Venice? We often do that, Beth. Hadn’t you noticed?”
“With all the trouble going on there right now?”
“Trouble? What trouble?”
“The place is crawling with drug dealers having gang wars, and police trying to stop them. Didn’t you hear about the sack they pulled out of the canal the other day in Regent’s Park, containing a body, in pieces?”
“Ugh! No, I didn’t. But what’s that got to do with us?”
“Some of the people involved were boat people. Several boats have been raided, people arrested.
“Okay, I’ll be careful.”
“People you know, Marnie …”
Ralph had gone into town for last-minute shopping before his trip, and Marnie did not want to worry Anne with news about gangland killings and drug wars, so she had no-one to tell about the events in Little Venice. She checked the phone calls list again. Next name, Jane Rutherford. She rang as soon as Anne went off to prepare a sandwich lunch on Sally Ann.
“Well, yes, I suppose it is a serious business, Marnie, but you know London. Life goes on whatever happens.”
“So you aren’t cowering under the table while the cops and villains have daily shoot-outs on the canal banks?”
“Not quite. No more than usual.”
“What about the police raids on boats? I heard there’d been boat people arrested.”
“One or two up the Paddington Arm. I didn’t know them, except for Belle Starkey, of course.”
“Belle Starkey,” Marnie repeated the name. “Wasn’t she the so-called witness, the one who told the police she’d seen Neil Gerard come back that night?”
“That’s the one. You spoke to her, didn’t you, Marnie?”
“Shortly after the murder. Was she involved in drugs?”
“They took her in on suspicion. It may have been her boyfriend’s supply, though some said she was dealing on the side herself.”
“Where is she now? Have they released her?”
“She was being held at Lisson Grove nick, last time I heard.”
“My sister’s been trying to warn me off coming down.”
“So you thought you’d check if the coast was clear?”
“No. Actually, there are two things. First is that Charles Taverner doesn’t want to change the name, Perfidia.”
“Fair enough. Is he superstitious? A lot of people don’t like changing a boat’s name.”
“He said it was Barbara’s choice and he didn’t want to go against her wishes.”
“Understandable.”
“I suppose so. The other thing is I’d like to invite you on board for a drink or maybe lunch when we reach Little Venice.”
“Great. Just give a shout when you get here.”
“Do you know if Mrs Jolly’s around? And I was thinking of asking Roger and Marjorie Broadbent. Maybe my sister and brother-in-law, too.”
“Leave the Little Venice crowd to me, Marnie. I’ll check ’em out.”
They sat on Sally Ann’s stern deck eating their sandwich lunch. Ralph’s mobile rang, and he wandered along the docking area to take the call. Anne drank from her glass of designer water and looked at Marnie.
“You know I haven’t seen my folks for a while?”
“That’s right. But you often talk to them on the phone, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah, every week. Well, I was wondering …”
“Go on.”
“D’you think we might be able to see my mum when we’re going through Leighton Buzzard? Perhaps she could meet us for tea or something?”
Marnie pointed at the papers on Anne’s lap. “Put it on the list. Or do you think w
e should get our social secretary to make the appointment? Jane’s getting good at that kind of thing. We could put her on the payroll.”
“It’s okay. I’ll handle it, Marnie. I’ll get my people to talk to her people and get it factored into our schedules.”
Marnie blinked. “Sounds impressive. That should do the trick.”
She was smiling as she took another bite. But the smile faded at the thought of secretaries making arrangements, of Judith Gross, of Clive Adamson’s minions, and the disaster at Spice Quay.
After making love that night, Ralph and Marnie lay with their arms around each other in the sleeping cabin on Thyrsis, their heads close together on the pillow. Ralph could smell Marnie’s hair and the faint perfume spray she used after showering. Down at the moorings there were no lights to penetrate the darkness and few sounds to disturb the silence of the waterway. They heard a plopping sound somewhere nearby, probably a fish jumping, then stillness returned.
“What are you thinking, Marnie?” Ralph breathed softly in her ear.
“I’m afraid it’s nothing very romantic, only that I seem to be flavour of the month just now.”
“That’s not bad. You are flavour of the month as far as I’m concerned, every month.”
“Good. But I was thinking about those phone calls.”
“Adamson and Wainwright?”
“Both phoning to invite me to see them.”
“It’s not surprising. But something tells me you don’t find it flattering. Does it worry you?”
“Not exactly.”
“But?”
“I was at that reception with all the men on Neil Gerard’s list of Barbara’s ex-lovers. Now, one of them is dead – in very mysterious circumstances, possibly connected in some way with me – two more have phoned wanting to see me, and I’m travelling to London to meet the other one.”
“So many men in your life.”
“No, only one.” She reached forward and kissed him.
“Yes, and he’s about to abandon you.”
48
Marnie drove Ralph to the station on Thursday morning to catch the Gatwick airport service shortly after six. She was back in the office well before seven and made an immediate start on the paperwork, fortified by a croissant and a glass of orange juice produced by Anne. They both worked solidly until, by lunchtime, they had put in virtually a day’s work.
As soon as they had packed, Anne booked them a taxi. While they waited for Rajeev the local cab-driver to pick them up, they ticked items off their lists: milk and papers cancelled till next week, answerphone message altered, spare keys to Angela Hemingway, Angela to feed Dolly and take in mail.
Marnie smiled to herself when they helped Rajeev to pack their luggage and provisions into the boot of the taxi. However much she tried to conceal it, Anne was excited again at the prospect of a boat journey.
Up at the boatyard Anne stowed their belongings while Marnie dealt briefly with the manager. In a few minutes they were ready to go. The engine started at the first touch of the button, and Anne was about to push Perfidia off from the bank when Marnie raised a hand as a signal to stop her. A boat had come into view on the mainline, crossing their path at right angles a short way ahead. Another had crept up slowly on the approach to the junction and it came to a halt beside them. Nodding at Marnie, the steerer let his eyes wander along the length of her boat. He leaned forward against the hatch of his much older craft, which was showing the signs of scrapes and bumps along her topsides and hull.
While they waited for the boat up ahead to pass, he pointed at Perfidia’s glossy paintwork. “You’re not seriously going to drive that, are you?”
Marnie wondered if this was a sexist affront to her skill as a boater. “Why not?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious. If you drive her on the canal she might get bumped into – scratched – by ordinary boats like mine. It’d be a crime.”
Marnie smiled. “Nothing wrong with your boat, but that’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“Sooner you than me, darlin’. Which way are you heading?”
“South.”
“That’s a relief. I’m going north. No risk of scraping you in the locks. Have a good trip!”
When the other boats had passed, Marnie waved to Anne, who pushed off from the bank and stepped onto the gunwale in the bows. As they eased forward, Anne signalled all-clear, and Marnie steered the beautiful boat out from the Blisworth arm into the mainline of the Grand Union and accelerated through the bridge hole to cruising speed. Their last journey on Perfidia had begun. They were taking her home.
Marnie would have liked more sunshine, but weather that was cool, dry and overcast made for a comfortable journey. They encountered little traffic that afternoon, and only passed two other boats in Blisworth tunnel. Anxious not to cause the slightest blemish to Perfidia’s immaculate appearance, Marnie slowed virtually to a halt to let them pass and otherwise kept the boat in mid-channel with all lights blazing on its passage through the darkness. Reaching Stoke Bruerne, they had an easy descent of the seven locks and settled down to uninterrupted cruising for the next couple of hours.
It was shortly after six when they passed Sally Ann and Thyrsis at their home moorings and tried vainly to glimpse the buildings of Glebe Farm through the trees. The strangest feeling came when they saw Dolly curled up asleep on the hatch of Sally Ann. Neither wanted to call out to disturb her. Watching her there, Marnie had a premonition that she was never going to return to their home and would never see it again. She was watching her old life from the outside like a ghost whose time among the living was over. Turning back to concentrate on steering, she noticed that Anne too had an odd expression on her face.
Marnie busied herself with the cruising guide. “If we press on for another couple of hours, we could make it to Great Linford.”
Anne checked the guide over her friend’s shoulder. “We could have supper in the pub.”
“Good thinking, Batman.”
The moment had passed.
They made it to Cosgrove in less than an hour and found it curiously deserted. The lock was full, and in the still water one gate hung open. The place looked abandoned. Their passage through was quick and they had just begun the slow crawl along the line of moored boats south of the lock when Marnie’s mobile began to warble. It was Jane Rutherford.
“This is your social secretary speaking. Arrangements are all sorted. Everyone’s available and looking forward to seeing you again. It’s been too long, Marnie.”
“You’re right. I’m losing touch with you all.”
“So I don’t suppose you’ve heard the latest news.”
“You told me about the drugs raid.” Marnie lowered her voice. “And the body in the bag.”
“That’s yesterday’s news. There’s more,… and it’ll be of particular interest to you.”
“Why me?”
“Your connection with the Taverners.”
Marnie stiffened. “What’s happened?”
“Remember I told you Belle Starkey – your witness – had been pulled in by the police? Well, she’s been talking.”
“About Neil Gerard and Barbara?”
“She’s not been very discreet, apparently, things she’s said to other people being held about the evidence she gave at the trial. Someone who was released from custody told reporters about it and they got on to the police.”
“Has she retracted her evidence or what?”
“I don’t know all the ins and outs, Marnie, but on the local news they said her comments were being taken seriously.”
Marnie was pondering Jane’s phone call when Anne came up from below to join her. She had disappeared inside after working the lock, and now emerged carrying a tray with two glasses of spritzer and a bowl of olives.
“Aperitif time,” Anne announced. “We have to maintain the high standards to which Perfidia is accustomed.”
Marnie accepted a glass, wrenching her mind away from the thought that
those high standards included the murder of the owner. They raised their glasses together as the boat crossed the Iron Trunk aqueduct towering over the river Ouse that marked the county boundary.
“Are you all right, Marnie?”
“That was Jane on the phone. She’s fixed up our get-together in Little Venice.”
“Great.”
“There’s more.”
Marnie recounted the developments concerning Belle Starkey. Much as it conflicted with Marnie’s natural inclination to shield Anne from unpleasantness, she knew her friend would hear about this sooner or later.
“Do you think Mr Taverner knows about it?”
“Good point. I’ve been wondering whether to tell him.”
“Do you have any choice?”
Marnie went below to make the call, leaving Anne at the tiller. As usual Charles’s answerphone cut in. Marnie spoke as invited, after the beep.
“It’s Marnie, Charles. Are you there?”
She waited a few seconds and he picked up the phone. “Hallo, Marnie. You got my message?”
“No. I’m not in the office. We’re collecting Perfidia.”
“I need to talk to you. I’m coming up to the rectory for the weekend. Will you be at Knightly on Saturday?”
“No. We’ll be long gone by then, Charles. We’ve already passed Glebe Farm. We’re on the outskirts of Wolverton.”
“So you’ve actually set off for London.”
“Yes. We should arrive after the weekend. Are you wanting to talk to me about Belle Starkey?”
A pause. “Yes.”
“I’ve just heard from a friend that she’s been saying things, talking about her evidence.” There was no reaction. Marnie looked up at the window. Perhaps they were under a railway bridge and she had lost the signal. “Charles, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“I gather she spoke to some of the other people about what she saw that night, and the story got out to the press. Is that your understanding?”
