by A. B. King
“Not at present,” he said. “Thank you for your time; I may wish to speak to you again in due course. I wish you good morning,” and with that he rose and ambled out of the office.
I would be lying if I denied being more than a little rattled by all this. When one watches all the 'cop' shows on the television, people are invariably blasé about such matters, but never having been stopped, let alone interviewed by a police officer in my life I found the experience distinctly unsettling. The fact that the man was so quietly spoken and so mild in manner only served to make matters worse. I had no idea what he really thought about me or my answers, yet I had an uncomfortable feeling that he didn't believe a single word I said, and that I had most definitely not seen the last of Detective Inspector Grayson!
I pulled myself together with an effort and dialled Danny's number.
“Hi; it's me,” I said like an idiot when she answered the phone. “Inspector Plod has been, and if I'm any judge he's on his way to see you now.”
“Right, I'll be ready for him; how bad was it?”
“That's what is getting to me; it wasn't bad at all, which means it was almost certainly a lot worse than I realise. It was a Detective Inspector Grayson, and he's about as un-policeman-like as a policeman can get. He gives the impression of being a complete nonentity, which probably indicates that everything goes in, but nothing shows on the surface. I'm sure he thinks that I did away with her.”
“Well, that's quite understandable,” she agreed in a matter of fact voice.
“Oh, and why's that?”
“Probably because you look a bit like George Joseph Smith!”
“And who the hell's he when he's out?”
“He’s not ‘out’ anywhere, and hasn’t been for about a century; don't you know anything? He was the infamous 'Brides in the Bath' murderer, and he isn't out because he was hanged for his crimes!”
“Thanks very much,” I exclaimed with due feeling, “you’ve cheered me up no end!
“Seriously, I'll give him until lunchtime,” she said. “Whether I've seen him or not I'll collect you from the office at two o'clock; I've managed to run down a couple of Julia's old school mates, and I've made arrangements to see them both this afternoon.”
“I see; and you intend being with me for this, is that right?”
“Look, Neil,” she said in a conciliatory tone, “I really would like to be along from now on. I know it is your case, and I'm not going back on my word, but now that Julia is dead I can't bear the thought of sitting back and doing nothing. Will it help if I say please?”
She must have guessed that I couldn't refuse her. Dammit; I couldn't refuse her anything; I'd even ski naked down Mount Snowdon with a rose in my mouth if she asked me to, although on second thoughts I might wear a very long scarf if she ever did!
“Oh very well,” I sighed, “but only if you promise to let me get a word in sometimes?”
“What word would that be?”
“Shut-up?”
“That's two words!”
“Hyphenated?”
“Ok, it’s a deal, I'll see you at two then. Bye.”
“Bye Danny.”
Chapter Seventeen.
I hung up, and a few moments later Tracy, or rather the girl that I thought was Tracy returned into the office. For a fleeting moment I didn't recognise her; the glasses were missing, along with the pimply complexion, and the sort of 'I'm-a-scared-mouse' expression. Her hair was now back in a wavy pony tail, and the padding, along with the frumpy clothes obviously discarded in favour of a pair of smart slacks and a white cotton blouse that displayed her pert young figure to perfection. She now looked every inch a highly attractive teenager, and one that could so easily play the very devil with the boys if she had a mind to!
“Well, it's what you told me to do!” she said defensively as she caught me looking at her.
“And very well done too,” I said appreciatively, inevitably noticing that her teeth, as I had suspected, where very white and even. “You can ask Danny to give you a rise.”
“The only rise I'm likely to get out of her will be from the toe of her boot once she discovers that I've been rumbled,” she muttered darkly, and then added; “How did you get on with Inspector Thingy?”
“I've been granted a temporary stay of execution.”
“Good,” she remarked with evident satisfaction. “I hope it lasts until I go back to college; I need the money!”
“You,” I said with conviction, “have the same morbid sense of humour as your aunt.” I glanced at my watch, and added; “How about you and I having a spot of early lunch; your aunt is picking me up at two, and its coming up for twelve now?”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” she agreed at once, all the assumed shyness and diffidence now conspicuous by its absence, “I'm famished anyway.”
“Your choice,” I offered gallantly as I rose from behind the desk. “Where's it to be?”
“The 'Jolly Pantry'; it’s only a couple of doors down the road, and they do a really fab pizza!”
“Ok,” I agreed, but I winced at the thought; I never much liked pizzas as a teenager, and couldn't stand them now that I was tumbling with ever-gathering speed down the slippery-slope to middle-age and eventual oblivion.
In pretty short order we were seated in the 'Jolly Pantry' with a huge pizza on order for her and a modest ham roll for me.
“Tell me,” I said as we sat there waiting for the food. “Just exactly why did your aunt foist you on me?”
“To help with the paperwork?” she suggested innocently, “in between making coffee and sweeping up?”
“Did you see that squadron of pigs fly over?”
“Look, Neil, do you really want to get me strung up?”
“Absolutely,” I answered emphatically.
“Oh, men,” she sighed as if she was a jaded tart of thirty-knocking-on-fifty instead of a fresh-faced young teenager on the threshold of life.
“She's going to find out soon enough that you've been unmasked,” I pointed out, “she's calling in at two, remember?”
“Oh, very well,” she sighed resignedly. “She knew that I needed to earn a bit of ready cash during the summer recess, and she said she knew of a good job going.”
“And?”
“Well, she said that she was considering taking someone into a business partnership, and wanted to be really sure that there wasn't anything about this person that she wasn't aware of.”
“Such as?”
“I don't know,” she answered evasively, “dodgy dealing maybe, or having dubious acquaintances and so forth?”
“And loose morals?”
“That too.”
“OK, so do I pass the test?”
She gave me a roguish smile that reminded me instantly of Danny.
“Not a chance!” she said emphatically as the food arrived at the table. “I’ve discovered that he likes taking poor little innocent teenage girls out to dubious establishments hoping to overcome them with his blandishments and-”
“Ok,” I sighed. “I get the picture.”
It was a very pleasant lunchtime because as I quickly discovered, Tracy was like a strong breath of fresh air. Now that she was able to shed the false persona she had adopted at Danny's behest she revealed herself to be a real live wire. It crossed my mind that in all probability this was how Danny had been when she was a young teenager. Her appetite was quite astonishing, yet her figure was as svelte as her aunt's, (must be a family trait, I thought) and she chatted on quite happily about a whole variety of subjects, being not in the least inhibited about anything, and by the time our meal break came to an end I knew that if I had been at least fifteen years younger I would have certainly been trying to scrape a much better acquaintance with her! Finally, when she had eaten enough to keep at least two like me going for a week she declared that she had had sufficient, and we returned to the office. As I walked through the door with a laughing Tania I was, frankly, quite astonished to
see Danny sitting behind my desk!
“Hi,” she said, fixing me with a baleful glare. “So this is what goes on when my back is turned?”
“I'm only flesh and blood,” I quipped, “and anyway, you’re early; in a few minutes I might have been interviewing this young lady in depth!”
“Exactly, looks like I arrived in the nick of time. I take it you have discovered who 'Tania' is?”
“It didn't take a detective of my long experience more than a few minutes to figure that out!”
There was a derisive snort as she stood up. “Then the sooner we get out of this sink of iniquity the better,” she said decisively, “I take it you are ready?”
“Ready, willing-”
“-and probably quite incapable!” she interrupted.
“Don't wait up for me,” I called to Tracy as I turned to leave, “and if I'm not here in the morning, you will know who to blame.”
Danny had her very up-market BMW parked outside, and I very quickly enfolded myself in the luxury of the interior. Danny was wearing a smart black business suit with a skirt so short it made my eyes water, showing her impeccable legs to perfection as it did, and in a way I felt more than a bit conspicuous in my rather conservative sports coat and flannels!
“Where to?” I asked.
“Dorminton,” she answered as she pulled away from the kerb and into the traffic. “We are due at about quarter past two.”
She flipped on the 'sat-nav' as she spoke, and we glided effortlessly along with the merest whisper of sound coming from the powerful engine. I have to admit that she drove smoothly and efficiently, and I could only suppose that the episode at the ford was a combination of bad luck and perhaps the end result of being in a bit of a temper with an ex-beau!
“So, who are we going to see?” I asked.
“A chap called Ricky Molesworth. His real name is Richard, but he prefers to be called Ricky for some reason. I gave Andrew Parson's a ring, and he eventually mentioned this chap Molesworth. Seems he was quite thick with Julia back in school days, so it seemed worth following up. I gave him a phone call and switched on the charm, and he said he would be quite happy to see me this afternoon. Andrew also gave me the name of Sandra Gibson, and we shall be seeing her later. It's probably a bit like asking for the moon for this chap Molesworth to turn out to be the man on the bridge, but assuming he was one of Julia's early partners, I'm hoping he can make some suggestions as to who his successors in Julia's good books might be found.”
“Well, we can but hope,” I agreed. “So; did D.I. Grayson pay you a visit?”
“No, not a whisper by the time I left. Maybe he will come tomorrow?”
“It would be nice to think that by tomorrow we might have this business sorted out.” I answered fervently.
We pulled up outside our destination exactly on time. It was a rather run-down looking ex-council house in a backwater street in the poorer part of Dorminton. It had a front garden of sorts separated from the public footpath by a broken rusty chain link fence complete with a cheap metal gate that leaned drunkenly open. The concrete path, running through what once may have been a lawn, and leading to the front of the building was subsiding in uneven slabs, and badly cracked. The front door itself was covered in poor quality green paint that was now peeling off in large blisters. Judging purely by appearances, 'Ricky' Molesworth was not one of life's great successes.
Danny made use of the knocker, and the door swung open immediately as if the owner of the building had been standing directly behind it and just waiting for her to use it. On second thoughts he probably was. A seedy, round-shouldered man who might once have sported ginger hair leered out at his visitor, but as he caught sight of me the delight faded somewhat. I could understand that; my legs weren't as shapely as Danny's, and they were modestly hidden by trousers as well.
“Mr Molesworth?” Danny asked brightly.
“Do come in Miss Fortescue,” he said unctuously, exposing the one or two yellowy teeth he still possessed, “please come right in, and er, yes, both of you.”
He backed away, and we dutifully trooped into the building which was pretty much what we had been led to expect from a cursory examination of the exterior of the premises; cramped, smelly, and dark.
“Mr Molesworth,” Danny said as she settled down into one of two threadbare armchairs reposing in what passed for a lounge in that dingy building. (It made my flat seem like a palace!) “May I introduce you to Mr Hammond, who is a colleague of mine?”
“Pleased to meet you, I'm sure,” said our host with complete lack of sincerity, his expression indicating that he would much rather have had Danny all to himself.
“It was very good of you to agree to see me at such short notice,” Danny continued, leaning back and crossing her legs in a manner that came close to causing our host to drop his eyeballs on the tattered remains of the carpet that covered much of the room. “As I mentioned to you on the telephone, we are making some enquiries in respect of a very involved legal case, and one of the angles that we need to follow up concerns the background of one Julia Gordon. I believe you both went to the same school?”
“Oh, yes, Julia,” mumbled Ricky Molesworth distractedly, quite unable to drag his eyes away from the seemingly endless legs so close, and yet so far, from his own. “Yes, that's right, we did; we went to school together. Seems a long time ago now; I haven't seen her since I left. She was in the class below me you know?”
“What was she like?” I asked. “As a person, I mean?”
“What?” he exclaimed as if suddenly remembering that there was a third person present.
“What was she like as a person?”
“Oh, yes, well, all right I suppose?”
“Oh, I'm sure you knew her quite well,” Danny interposed seductively. “Didn't you date her a few times?”
He immediately switched his attention back to Danny, and the mention of 'dating' seemed to have an almost aphrodisiac effect upon him, judging by the lascivious leer I saw in his eyes.
“Well, yes I did as a matter of fact.” he admitted.
“And?” I persisted.
“What do you mean?”
“What was she like as a girlfriend,” Danny purred, “Was she friendly, stand-offish, weird, boring, or just plain ordinary?”
“Oh, I see what you mean. Well, if you want the truth, she was a bit of a funny one, if you get what I mean?”
“In what way?” I asked, thinking that prising information out of the man was on par with trying prise a refund out of the tax office.
“Well, she was always so very prim and proper,” he said as he continued to gaze fixedly at Danny’s legs. “Always on about going to church, keeping away from sin, divine retribution and all that sort of stuff. Good looking though, but definitely weird. Mind you, she 'ad nice legs, but not as good as, well, not as good as some I've seen. But she was weird; I didn't know just how weird, not at first. Later, well, I couldn't go along with it, didn't seem right, somehow.”
“How weird?” Danny persisted.
“Well, if you must know, she liked to be made to suffer, she liked to be humiliated. Treating her like a lady didn't work. She liked to be, well, like I said, made to suffer. I never knew anyone like to suffer like she did, couldn't get enough of it. Like I said; weird.”
“Did she give you any explanations why she behaved like that?” I asked before Danny could take over the whole business of getting information from the man.
“Why, do people usually give explanations why they're kinky?” he responded, clearly annoyed that I was interrupting his pre-occupation with drooling over the sight of Danny's legs.
“They do sometimes,” I assured him as if I knew about such things.
“Well, she didn't! And I only found out that she liked it rough by accident.”
“What sort of accident?” Danny put in.
He looked at me a bit uncomfortably, then back at Danny's legs once more.
“It was a long time ago,” he mutte
red, staring distractedly at the elegant limbs that were so close to him, yet so far beyond his reach. “I'm not sure I remember all the details.”
“Oh, I'm sure you remember more than you realise,” Danny purred seductively. “You're just being modest.”
“Well, if you must know, I bumped into her at a sort of social evening held at the school,” he said, his eyes never moving from her legs. “She was being toffee nosed as usual, and I'd had a bit to drink before going, well, you know how it is. Anyway, she snubbed me like she did everyone who tried it on with her, and walked snootily off outside. I didn't like that, because it made me look stupid in front of my friends, so I followed her out. I tried to be nice, but it got me nowhere, and then I got mad and thumped her one. Shouldn't have done it of course, and no sooner had it happened when I thought I was in for it! Blow me if she didn't immediately cave in and ask me to forgive her! She said how sorry she was for being so rude to me, that it was truly unforgivable, and I was so right to punish her for it! Well, I'm not stupid; I soon twigged that that was the way to get round her! I dragged her straight out into the school grounds and slapped her around a few times and she came on really strong. Lots of pretend resistance at first, but boy, didn't she go! She weren't no virgin either; she knew what it was all about right enough, and some!”
