“I know there was a mention of a Magpie in the case at the time,” said Maik, “but the DCI has never made any reference to it since, not to my knowledge anyway. If you needed to know anything about that bird, it’d probably be best if you went directly to him.”
Delivered in a different tone, it could have been a warning. But Gill took it for what it was; helpful advice. She shook her head. “Thanks, but that was a different species of Magpie,” she said. “That one took off with a piece of evidence from the kidnap scene. But it was just your common or garden-variety Magpie, the ones we see in the U.K. all the time. This other bird was special. Iberian Azure-winged Magpies live in Southern Europe. This was the first time a wild one had ever been recorded in the U.K. And Domenic Jejeune was credited with the find.”
“So there were two Magpies about,” said Holland thoughtfully. “What would they call that, I wonder?”
“Joy?” offered Maik.
“A group of Magpies is called a tiding,” said Gill, with the kind of authority that suggested she’d made a point of finding out. “So he never said anything about this sighting then?” She tapped her teeth with a pencil in thought. “Okay, thanks.”
“You know, one of my earliest cases in uniform involved a Magpie,” said Holland, smiling now at the memory. “A woman called to say her engagement ring had been nicked by one. I went round to take her statement for the insurance. I remember she had a right shiner, and I wondered if her boyfriend had given it to her for losing the ring.”
“And I suppose you comforted her,” said Gill, pulling a face.
“Preying on the vulnerable? I can see you share the same high opinion of me as some other people round here.” He looked across to where Maik was still staring at the pair of them. There was lightness in Holland’s tone, but it still made Gill feel slightly ashamed of her comment.
“Anyway,” continued Holland, “she said the bird took the ring right off the kitchen windowsill while she was doing the washing-up.”
“Magpies are known to be very quick-witted,” offered Gill eagerly.
Holland nodded. “This one must have been. It took the ring to a pawnbroker. I saw it there a couple of months later. When I went back to confront the woman, she’d gone. The boyfriend said she’d taken the insurance payout with her when she left. He wanted to file a complaint, but I said she’d mentioned something about domestic abuse when I was round there before. She hadn’t, but it made him think twice. In the end, he decided to let it drop.”
Des was staring at Holland now, her head tilted slightly to one side, as if she was unsure quite what to make of his story. Or of him. But for now she had other things on her mind. And they were more pressing.
22
By the time he parked the Mini and opened the door, Danny Maik could hear the music; a cacophony of dulcimers, mandolins, and drums. He hoped the doors weren’t locked; the people inside would have a hard time hearing him, and his chances of forcing his way past that formidable-looking iron grille on the door were non-existent.
Despite Sikorski’s effusive invitation, the Feast of Saint Stanislaus was not an event Danny would normally have attended without pressure from above. But he had some information he thought Jejeune would want to hear sooner rather than later. He knew the DCI would be here, whether he shared Maik’s reluctance about such gatherings or not. Lindy would not want to miss an event like this.
He needn’t have worried about the grille. The doors were wide open, spilling out noise and people and bright lights onto the ground outside the building. Maik made his way inside and stood self-consciously in the doorway of the large central hall. It was packed with people, all milling about in a state of high revelry, laughing and shouting to each other over the sounds of the music and the din of other conversations. It was hard to reconcile this riot of colour and noise with the dignified, restrained space he had seen on his last visit. The walls, formerly so stark and pristine, had been transformed into a festival of colour with hand-woven doilies and painted icons. The iron bars on the windows were hidden behind exquisitely crafted lace curtains. In the far corner of the room, a five-piece band was playing for all they were worth, compensating for any deficiencies in technique with an enthusiasm that was clearly infectious. Along the side wall ran a series of long tables dressed in crisp white cloths embroidered with red and gold. On them sat one of the most astonishing arrays of food Maik had ever seen. Platter upon platter was piled high with kielbasa, potatoes, chałka bread, cabbage rolls, and a large selection of babka and other sweets.
With all the distractions on offer, it was no surprise someone could approach Danny undetected on his blind side. “Dom’s over there,” said Lindy. “Something tells me he’s going to be glad to have somebody to share his misery.”
To Maik, Jejeune looked as lost in this crowded room as a man on a desert island. It would have been a stretch to say he looked happy to see Maik, but relief was not far off the mark. He made his way over hurriedly.
“Des is here, too,” said Lindy as Jejeune approached. “We met at the market yesterday for coffee, so I invited her. Might not be a typical night out in Saltmarsh, but at least she gets to see a local community event. We came together in her car.” She looked at Jejeune. “I’m DD-ing tonight.”
Maik looked over to where Des was standing in front of an older woman. She was pitched forward on her toes, bellowing a comment to the woman, who was leaning forward to hear her.
“I’m not surprised to see Calista Hyde here,” said Maik, indicating the older woman. “She’s involved in just about every community event around here in some capacity.”
Jejeune regarded the woman carefully. She was of modest height and generous build. With her kindly face and loose grey curls, she reminded him a little of his grandmother. In truth, she reminded him of just about everybody’s grandmother. “So that’s Fêtezilla? Perhaps I should go over and say hello.”
“She’ll be busy,” said Lindy hurriedly. “I’m sure organizing this event means she’s got loads of things to do. Oh, look, they’re setting up some sort of folk dance. I’ll bet Des and I could do that. Hey, Des,” she shouted over, indicating the dance floor, “fancy a go? Come on, let’s give it a bash.”
Jejeune let his gaze follow Lindy as she led Des onto the dance floor, weaving between the tightly-packed bodies to find a space. He watched the women sharing peals of laughter as they misstepped their way through the intricate patterns of the oberek.
“Not as easy as it looks, apparently,” Jejeune said to Maik. He seemed unable to take his eyes off Lindy. Her vivacity seemed to linger around her like a trail of glitter as she moved. But for once, it did not bring a smile to Jejeune’s face, only a faint shadow of concern.
“I paid Curtis Angeren a visit today,” said Maik, without taking his own eyes off the dancers, even as Jejeune snapped his head round to look at him. “Turns out the report of Hayes’s return was a bit premature. He’s still in Australia. I told Angeren any more false alarms and I might take up an interest in golf.”
Jejeune could imagine the scene Maik’s words would have painted in the developer’s mind: a menacing colossus standing splay-legged in the foyer of the clubhouse, glowering at members as he quizzed them about some person named Ray Hayes. News of a plutonium leak would not clear the building any more rapidly.
Jejeune had not realized what had been trapped within him until it had been released. It felt like a captive bird had fluttered from his heart and left behind only the soothing stillness of relief. He started to speak, but paused, as if perhaps he didn’t quite trust his voice yet.
Maik misinterpreted Jejeune’s silence. “I think we’ll be able to rely on any information we get from him from now on, sir. Whatever Angeren wants from us, news about Hayes’s return would be a decent bargaining chip.”
The breathless return of Lindy and Des from the dance floor saved Jejeune from having to respond. “Blimey, you’re in good shape,” said Des breathlessly. “It was all I could do to
keep up with you.”
“Really, I didn’t find it that bad,” said Lindy, between gasps. “To be honest, I’m surprised you know how to dance at all. I thought it was all video games and social media with you young ’uns. Staying indoors all day, never getting any exercise.”
“Not me. Tennis is my thing, actch. I play a couple of times a week when I’m home. You?”
“Tennis? God no, I’ve always thought of tennis as basically golf for fit people. I run — 5Ks. Quite regularly, as a matter of fact.” Lindy made a point of avoiding Jejeune’s stare.
Teodor Sikorski approached the group, his eyes shining with alcohol, cheeks flushed with high colour. “Ah, the inspector of the rare birds, and the sergeant of the Latin phrases.” Maik looked slightly abashed. “I’m very happy you have chosen to join us tonight. And your delightful companions, too.” He clipped his heels together and gave a slight formal bow.
“It’s wonderful,” said Lindy, looking around the room, still recovering her breath. “I should think the entire Polish community of Saltmarsh must be here.”
Not quite, thought Jejeune. There was one very conspicuous female absence — plus, of course, a young man who would never be attending gatherings ever again.
Des excused herself to go off in search of a cool corner and Maik’s sense of chivalry led him to accompany her.
“Dom tells me you’re heading a project to remove some invasive species out here,” said Lindy.
Sikorski offered her a charming smile. “Perhaps some people think we wish only to come here to play chess and drink tea and talk about the old country. No, we have chosen to do something useful, to remove unsightliness from the English countryside.”
“But surely you’ve not been asked to remove this Frankenweed just because it’s ugly,” said Lindy.
“No? If we were truly committed to removing invasive species, we should treat them all equally. Instead, it is only the unattractive ones we target. Think of the Mute Swan in your own country, Inspector. This is an invasive species, is it not? Before 1800 there were none in Canada. Now …” Vodka sloshed over the side of Sikorski’s glass as he made a wide, sweeping gesture to emphasize his point, “it is far more familiar to most Canadians than any of the native swans. Why has there been no effort to remove it? Because it is beautiful. No other reason. But I ask you, Ms. Hey, what is beauty, after all, other than one person’s opinion?”
“John Keats said beauty is truth,” she offered.
“And truth beauty.” Sikorski shook his head. “Pah, he was twenty-three years old when he wrote this. What does an innocent boy like this know of the real world? Beauty is not so pure. She corrupts our ideals.” He nodded slowly. “To rid the landscape of an unattractive weed, yes, everybody wants this. But other species are allowed to remain here, to thrive even. They do not ask us to remove rhododendrons from the English landscape. I wonder, if this Japanese knotweed hybrid, this Frankenweed, was a beautiful flowering plant, would they still ask us to eradicate it? Or would its beauty save it?”
Sikorski extended an arm to corral someone as she passed by. “But we must now speak of other things, of a person who has contributed so much of her time to tonight’s event.” He placed a hand on his heart. “Calista, to you we are truly indebted. Forgive me, but I must greet some other guests. I shall return soon, Inspector, and we shall drink to life.”
Sikorski melted into the crowd as Calista extended her hand. “You must be Domenic. I have to say, we can’t thank you enough for insisting Lindy come out to join our committee.”
Jejeune simply smiled and raised his eyebrows, as was his custom when he hadn’t understood a comment.
“We’re quite aware that Lindy would never have joined without your constant encouragement, but we’re so delighted you persevered with her. We’re certain she’s going to be a wonderful addition to the committee, despite having been cajoled into it by you, against her better judgment.” Calista gave a kindly smile.
Jejeune looked across at Lindy, who appeared to have found some speck of dust in her eye, to which she was now attending with a delicate fingertip.
“Well, she tends to lack confidence,” Jejeune told Calista, leaning in confidentially, “but once she gets started, there’s no holding her back. I’m sure if there were any vacancies elsewhere — the lawn bowling committee, say, or the shuffleboard club — she’d be delighted to take on those, too.”
Calista looked uncertainly at Lindy, who had stopped fiddling with her eye and was now offering Domenic a strange smile. “Well, if I hear of anything, I’ll certainly let you know, Lindy. But I must get on. I still have more food to prepare. The Count will not be satisfied until everyone has had their fill tonight. He sees it as his duty to bring as much joy and comfort into these people’s lives as he can.”
“Polish culture obviously agrees with you,” Lindy told Jejeune as they watched Calista leave. “You certainly weren’t this frisky earlier today. It’s like you’ve suddenly had the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders.”
If he had, the reason for it was approaching them now. As Maik and Des rejoined them, Sikorski emerged from the centre of a crowd. “Ah, Inspector. Please, all of you, a drink. A special drink!”
“My night to be DD,” said Lindy. “Designated driver.”
Sikorski bowed his head. “A noble gesture indeed. I trust the inspector will honour your sacrifice by drinking to it.”
He waved over the young woman who had greeted the detectives on their previous visit to Wawel. “Please bring Goldwasser, for my special guests.”
He turned to them. “Polish vodka. The best. None of that Russian płyn do płukania ust.”
A group nearby roared with approval as the woman offered the translation. “Mouthwash,” she said. “The Count does not use bad words — in English or in Polish. He has only good words, for all people.”
She disappeared and returned with a tray holding four glasses and a bottle of clear liquid with what looked like gold flakes suspended in it. “You are very fortunate,” she confided as she filled the glasses and handed them out. “The invitation to drink personally with the Count is seen as a great honour among the people here.”
“Come, drink,” urged Sikorski amiably. “Zdrowie wasze w gardła nasze. To your health, down our throats.”
They tipped up their glasses together. Des choked at the liquid’s burn and waved away the offer of another, but the men had their newly replenished glasses thrust into their hands once more. “And now, Inspector, the man who will shield our community from the evils of the outside world, the toast is yours.”
Jejeune looked across at Danny Maik and smiled. “To those who would protect the innocent.”
The nearby group applauded loudly as the men tossed back the drinks. The glasses were filled for a third time as if by magic. It crossed Lindy’s mind that this ritual might go on indefinitely unless somebody intervened.
“So, I’m wondering, Count Sikorski,” she said in her best investigative journalist tone, “based on our earlier conversation, would you expect someone to report a pair of Ruddy Ducks if they saw them? After all, they’re very attractive.”
Sikorski rocked slightly on his heels and turned his bleary eyes upon her. His courteous smile remained undimmed. “People want to protect this bird, with its pretty blue beak and its chestnut feathers and its turned-up tail,” he said. “Our ideology will always be compromised by our emotions, you see; our hopes, our wishes, our personal feelings.”
The crowd around them had grown as people gathered in to hear Sikorski hold court, and he turned to them now, seeming to mesmerize them with his talismanic charm. “Take these beautiful Polish girls,” he said, thrusting his arm out unsteadily to indicate a group of young women gathered nearby, “these women with their long blonde hair, their skin like white satin, their eyes the colour of glaciers. Do you think these are the ones people want to send back to their own country?” He shook his head, his eyes alive with fervour and alcohol. “No, ev
en Curtis Angeren would allow beauty like this to remain here.” He slapped his chest with his palm and wagged an unsteady finger in Lindy’s direction. “Our hearts, you see, Ms. Hey. They will make traitors of us all!”
Jejeune and Maik stood side by side in the soft evening air. When the festivities started, the dying sun in the west was a blinding orange disc, but now around them was only darkness, an emptiness in which they knew a vast, quiet marshland lurked. Behind them, the last of the departing guests were spilling out of the centre and Calista was waiting to secure the metal grille over the door. After she got in her car and left, only three cars remained parked beside the building: The Beast, Maik’s Mini, and an MGB with the motor running and the two women inside.
“Don’t go wandering off,” Lindy called to them as she pulled away. “Remember, there’s a steep embankment on either side of this berm. In the dark it would be easy for one of you to end up in the drink.”
She waved an arm through the open top of the MGB as she drove off. Having piled the sports car’s worse-for-wear owner into the passenger seat, Lindy was on her way to drop Des off at her B&B, where she would pick up her own car before returning to collect the two vodka-shot detectives. She would load Domenic into the back of the Nissan Leaf and deliver Danny safely to his house on their way home.
The men watched the red tail lights disappear into the night. A three-quarter moon was casting a pale, silvery light over the fields in the distance. Jejeune wanted to say something, to thank Maik for caring enough about Lindy to pay that visit to Angeren. But he knew neither man was in the right condition for him to attempt something like that. At best it would be inadequate; at worst it would end up embarrassing them both. Maik had done what he’d done, he’d told Jejeune about it, and Jejeune had acknowledged his gratitude with a toast. It was enough.
A Tiding of Magpies Page 14