How the Dead Live (Factory 3)

by Raymond, Derek

  ‘Before we go into that,’ he said, ‘I’m told you had a run-in with two of my men last night, a squad car crew.’

  ‘PCs 281 and 183,’ I said, ‘that’s right. But it was all amicably fixed.’

  ‘They breathalysed you, did they not?’

  How I detest people who say things like did they not. I said: ‘Yes. It was negative. Some of these youngsters are over-keen.’

  ‘You used strong language to them.’

  ‘I use it all the time,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t try it with me,’ said Kedward, ‘I’m not going to have you London people treating us like yobbos; get that straight, Sergeant.’

  He was another rank addict. I said: ‘Well, the best thing you can do then is ring my Deputy Commander and tell him that, why not do it now? The answer might really surprise you.’

  He flushed; his hand did not reach for the phone.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Now let’s cut out the crap and get back to the question. Are you asking me to believe that you delayed investigating Mrs Mardy’s disappearance until last month, January, that makes five months since she was last seen, because you thought she was a middle-aged eccentric? Now come on, it’s incredible.’

  ‘We’d no grounds for suspicion,’ said Kedward. ‘That was my decision and I put it in my report.’

  ‘I’ve got your report and I’ve read it,’ I said, ‘and a skimpy little document it is too; it’s a skirt that wouldn’t cover a gnat’s thighs. Now try harder.’

  ‘Look,’ said Kedward, ‘everyone in Thornhill knew she was sick last year.’

  ‘What do you mean by sick?’

  ‘Appeared in town less and less often.’

  ‘Did you see her when she did come in?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Make an effort with this, will you?’ I said. ‘I keep asking you.’

  ‘Well, she just looked sick.’

  ‘How sick?’ I said. ‘Come on, you’re a detective, you’ve got eyes in your head, haven’t you? White, you mean? Thin and drawn?’

  ‘Didn’t speak much latterly,’ he muttered, ‘or else just in a whisper. Always wore a veil in the end round the lower part of her face. But you hardly saw her.’

  ‘Not exactly the person she’d once been then, was she?’

  ‘How did you know what she had been like?’ he said, sitting up.

  ‘Never you mind,’ I said. ‘What we’re talking about right now is that a local woman who used to be pretty, happy, vivacious, first starts to wither away behind a veil and then totally disappears. And you don’t find that reasonable grounds for suspecting anything?’

  ‘I told you it was well known she was ill!’

  ‘Was she going for treatment? What was she ill with?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Kedward shouted. ‘Her husband’s a doctor, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh he is, is he?’ I said. ‘Do you know when he last practised?’

  ‘No, why should I?’

  ‘You really freak me,’ I said, ‘you’re meant to monitor this patch.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean sticking my nose into other folks’ business.’

  ‘It’s what the public pays your wages for,’ I said, ‘I’m always being told it. All right, let’s get on to something else. What sort of a man is this Mardy?’

  ‘Now you’re down here,’ he said, ‘you can be the judge of that.’

  ‘I will be. Now, did you eventually go up Thornhill Court?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘You must have read my report. It was January 15th. Last month.’

  ‘And yet it seems Mrs Mardy had been missing since August last year.’

  ‘Thornhill Court isn’t the sort of house anybody just goes into.’

  I was getting weary of this. I said: ‘Why isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not a bloody council estate.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ I said. ‘You call yourself a copper. Council estate, high rise, country house, the law can go anywhere it likes any time it likes, as you know full well.’

  ‘The Mardy family’s been here in Thornhill for three centuries.’

  I said: ‘I don’t care if they moved in with Julius Caesar.’

  ‘You work in town too much, but you’re ninety miles from London here.’

  ‘People don’t seem to change, though.’

  He shouted: ‘Will you mind your manners with me, you cheeky bastard!’

  ‘I’m not into minding manners,’ I said, ‘but solving cases. I tell you I’m here to find out what’s happened to Mrs Mardy, how when where and why, and I’m going to, with your help or without it. Now then – you never got a warrant out to search the Mardy house. Why not? Why didn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t have to explain that to you.’

  I said: ‘I think you’d better, and I’m asking you that question again.’

  ‘Because I had no grounds for suspicion, I keep telling you!’ He added: ‘All right, we both know it came from the Chief Constable for me to go up there.’

  ‘And didn’t it take some pushing for you to do it,’ I said, ‘what you should have done anyway months before. What was the reason you gave Mardy for your visit when you finally did get up there?’

  ‘That I was acting on information received.’

  ‘But what information?’ I shouted. ‘Whose information? Why isn’t any of this information to be found in this pathetic report of yours I’ve got here?’

  ‘That’s just it,’ said Kedward, ‘in my view none of it was information, just gossip.’

  ‘Well, with a local woman having disappeared for six months like that,’ I said, ‘yes, I’ll bet there was plenty of it. Now, did you go up to the house alone?’

  ‘Certainly not. I went up with Sergeant Turner.’

  ‘All right. And did you turn the house over?’

  ‘We did not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I formed the opinion after talking to Dr Mardy that there was no necessity for it.’

  ‘And what was that opinion based on? The fact that his wife was nowhere to be found? Or did you find her? Did she appear? If she did, what the hell am I doing here?’

  ‘No, she did not appear.’

  ‘And what was Mardy’s explanation for that? Or didn’t you ask him for one?’

  ‘He told us that his wife was absent for a time, that her health was not all it might be, and that she’d gone abroad on a long visit, back to her home in France.’

  ‘And you were quite satisfied with that.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I have been?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Was your sergeant satisfied with it?’

  ‘I don’t ask my sergeants for their opinions.’

  ‘What a pity,’ I said. ‘You know, Inspector, as one detective to another, I’m frankly wondering if you’ve ever tackled such a thing as crime in your life before. Or are you wilier than you make out?’ I added. ‘Are you concealing anything from me, Inspector?’

  He had taken a beating from me; his gaze slid across the room. ‘No.’

  ‘Because if you are,’ I said, ‘I very strongly advise you not to do so.’

  ‘Sergeants don’t give advice to detective-inspectors,’ he said. ‘They take it as a rule, if they know what’s good for them.’

  ‘I’ve never known what was good for me,’ I said. ‘That’s why I’m in my mid-forties and still a sergeant. But don’t be an idiot, I’m working for the Yard on this one. I’m not local law.’ I didn’t believe what I was going to say next but I said it just the same: ‘Of course, I’ve no grounds yet for supposing that you are holding anything back, but what I’m confronted with so far is your investigation into this business, which is so fucking inept that it doesn’t even deserve the name. I can’t believe that you’re as stupid as you would like to make me think you are – I think you could have done much, much better than this if you’d wanted to, and of course it’s natural for me to want to know why you didn’t wan
t to.’ I pointed my finger at his nose. ‘And if it turns out at the end of this case that you were withholding information from me all along, and if I have to find out what that information was all by myself, then you are going to find yourself in very, very serious trouble, do you understand?’

  He snapped: ‘I’m not withholding anything from you.’

  ‘Well, I’ve given you your chance.’

  ‘Yes, thank you so very much,’ he said poisonously, ‘I am grateful.’

  I let that slip on by. ‘There’s something else I want to know,’ I said.

  He looked at his watch. ‘I haven’t much time,’ he said, ‘I’ve got an appointment.’

  I said: ‘It’ll have to wait,’ and he looked at me in a silence that I enjoyed. ‘What I want is some background information on Dr Mardy – does he have any staff up at his house?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘What staff did he have?’

  ‘A part-time jobbing gardener called Dick Sanders, local boy.’

  ‘Were the dates of his employment there relevant to the period we’re discussing?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Well? Yes or no? Come on – I can quickly check it.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I made a note of the name. ‘And by the way,’ I said, ‘the day you and Sergeant Turner went up to the house, did you ask Dr Mardy why his wife had been seen around Thornhill with a veil round her face?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because I didn’t think the way Mrs Mardy dressed was any of my affair. I knew she was ill and I didn’t want to press or upset Dr Mardy.’

  ‘You may have been dead wrong not to press him,’ I said. ‘Another thing – weren’t you at any time ever intrigued by Mrs Mardy’s illness? Her face?’

  ‘I don’t probe into other people’s misfortunes.’

  ‘Then you’re in the wrong job,’ I said. ‘Now, what about this veil she wore?’

  ‘Well, what about it?’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I said, ‘I want to know more about the veil. Was it a thick veil? Could you see her face behind it?’

  ‘It covered her face below the nose, and you couldn’t see through it, no.’

  ‘And none of that interested you at all.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You knew her quite well?’

  ‘Reasonably well.’

  ‘But you never asked her what was the matter with her.’

  ‘No. I tell you I never—’

  ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘you didn’t do anything. Not even before she disappeared.’

  ‘I prefer to wait for people to come to me.’

  ‘How very cooperative of you,’ I said. ‘Did you go to any of her concerts?’

  ‘How do you know she gave any?’ he said quickly.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘her fame spread, you know. Now then, going back to this illness, this trouble with her face—’

  ‘I’ve told you all I know. All right, she was ill. Unfortunately, there’s nothing unusual about illness.’

  ‘That depends,’ I said. ‘Some people in this town appear not to have agreed with you about her illness. They seem to have thought it was very unusual.’

  ‘Just town gossip in my view.’

  ‘Your view’s the kind that needs strong glasses,’ I said, ‘and the Chief Constable evidently thought the same. Now, is there anything else you’d like to tell me about the Mardys before I find out on my own?’

  He looked stiffly away at the wall and said: ‘There’s nothing more to tell.’

  I said: ‘You must be the most uncooperative officer I’ve ever had to deal with.’

  ‘Deal with it on your own, then!’ he snarled. He banged his fist on the table. ‘I’ve been overridden. It’s your case now, so why don’t you just get up there and dig up what you want to know?’

  ‘Let’s hope no digging will be necessary,’ I said, ‘as much for your sake as anyone else’s.’

  ‘You can work on your bloody own!’

  ‘I’m going to,’ I said. ‘I’m used to working on my own – in fact, I like it that way. I’ll put it all together, you’ll see.’ I stood up. ‘And thank you for all your help.’

  ‘The reason you’ve not had much help from me,’ he said, ‘is that I don’t like you.’

  ‘Most people don’t,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think that’s the reason at all.’ I turned at the door and said: ‘I believe that this woman is dead and, if it turns out that she is, your pension will add up to a bag of rotten nuts and it could go bluer than that. No, don’t get up, Inspector.’

  He hadn’t, and didn’t. He didn’t say or do anything. He didn’t look at me even.

  I went to my car, which was on the yellow line where I had parked it the night before. The squad car, with the same two specialists in it, was also parked there.

  I waved to them cheerily; but they didn’t wave back.

  8

  I got back to the hotel and rang the voice.

  ‘I want a bank account checked.’

  ‘Whose bank account?’

  ‘Inspector Kedward’s.’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ groaned the voice, ‘don’t tell me you’ve got up his nose already.’

  ‘I’ll get further up than his nose,’ I said, ‘I’ll get up into his brains and make them yelp.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get on with him?’

  ‘We got on like newly-weds,’ I said, ‘I don’t think.’

  ‘Ended in early divorce, did it?’ said the voice. ‘I might have known. What have you made of it so far? Have you seen this man Mardy yet?’

  ‘Look, I only got down here last night,’ I said. ‘No, I haven’t seen Mardy yet. There’s no rush over Mardy for an hour or two; he isn’t going to run away. No, I tell you, I’ve been busy with Kedward; I find him very interesting.’

  ‘What does interesting mean?’

  ‘You know what it means,’ I said, ‘it means bent. I want his bank statements checked out right over the last twelve months.’

  ‘You really are a dreadful man,’ said the voice, ‘cheeky and self-opinionated. I send you down to look into the business of a missing woman – no, you pin this inspector to a card instead.’

  ‘It’s a pity you weren’t with me when I saw him just now.’

  ‘What would that have told me?’

  ‘I keep telling you,’ I said patiently, ‘it would have told you that he was bent. Bent, crooked, not straight, as bent as an old banger’s front bumper.’

  ‘He’s the law in that town. What’s he got to hide?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’ I sighed audibly into the phone. ‘Now can I have his bank statements checked, please?’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said the voice uneasily, ‘you just look out what you’re doing, Sergeant. You’re not noted for tact.’

  ‘There’s no point being tactful with villains,’ I said. I described the interview I had had with Kedward and in the end even the voice saw what I was driving at. ‘He’s a nice loose thread to tug on to start with,’ I said, ‘so I’m going to give him a good hard tug.’

  ‘You mind what you’re doing,’ said the voice even more nervously. ‘You tug a corrupt police officer out of all this – well, you know what the press are like.’

  ‘You handle all that side of it,’ I said.

  ‘Indeed I will, Sergeant.’

  ‘All the same,’ I said, ‘whichever way you look at it, if he’s in there he’s in there, being corrupt.’

  ‘I’ll agree about this much,’ said the voice, ‘I find Kedward’s attitude to this Mrs Mardy incomprehensible. Why, when I was on the CID myself—’

  ‘Oh, not incomprehensible,’ I said. ‘There’s a perfectly good reason for it; Kedward’s no fool. It’s just a question of finding out what reason, and you can be sure money comes into it somewhere.’ I repeated: ‘So can I please have his bank statements checked? I’m not being tactless – he’ll never know his
account’s been checked.’

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ said the voice, ‘don’t ride me. Listen, did you accuse him of anything to his face?’

  ‘I’m not in a position to yet,’ I said, ‘but I asked him if he was hiding or withholding information from me about the Mardys, yes, because I had the feeling, as strongly as possible, that he was.’

  ‘Oh God, why is it,’ said the voice, ‘that every case you handle, something frightful blows up in it virtually straight away?’

  ‘Because there’s something frightful in every case, sir.’

  ‘Just calling me sir isn’t going to make me any better tempered,’ said the voice, ‘though I’ll make a note of it – the last time was Christmas Eve, and I got the impression that you’d had a few that day.’

  ‘Kedward’s bank statements,’ I said. ‘I want to go up and see Mardy now.’

  ‘All right,’ said the voice, ‘yes.’

  ‘You’ll get the results down here to me as soon as you can? By courier?’

  ‘Yes. You’re not to get in touch with his bank directly, do you understand?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘photocopies are all I need.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said the voice, ‘I know it’s early days, but what’s your instinct about this Mardy woman? What do you think may have happened to her?’

  I said: ‘I feel there’s every possibility that she’s dead.’

  ‘Well,’ said the voice, ‘that’s what we’re here for. All right, keep at it. You’re cheeky, I had a half-hour hate from Chief Inspector Bowman about you this morning, but you’re an energetic officer and you’ve got brains, I’ll say that for you.’ He rang off on me, muttering: ‘A corrupt police inspector he digs up – oh God, who ordered any of that?’

  9

  With the map I had I traced my way through the lanes north of Thornhill. I made mistakes, first driving up rutted tracks into a blank, frostbitten field, then turning off wrong at an unmarked crossroads. It had got completely dark with sleet, then icy rain, turning to hail, battering the high ground.

  But at last I was speeding past an old brick wall with most of the coping gone and reached two stone pillars that supported half-open gates. I got out with the torch that I kept in the car. There was a mailbox screwed into the wall by the gates that read Thornhill Court, so I opened the gates, got back in the car and drove up five hundred yards of mud.