Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  Randall had told Anthony that numbers were down, so he could have a room to himself, but they both knew this was special treatment, minimising the risk of recognition and giving him solitude to clarify his thoughts.

  Anthony offered Marnie the chair, while he sat on one bed and Ralph took the other. They both noticed a calm about his manner.

  “I’m afraid I can’t offer you refreshment up here. Funny, the things you take for granted. Still, it’s private and we won’t be disturbed. Thank you for coming.”

  Marnie began, “You wanted to talk about plans for the future.”

  “I’m genuinely touched by what you’ve done for me, both of you and your friends. I know I don’t deserve so much help, and I know it’s not been easy.”

  Ralph smiled faintly. “There hasn’t always been a great deal of choice about it.”

  “No. But there is now.”

  “What kind of choice do you have in mind?” said Marnie.

  “I think the way ahead has become clear. This is your last chance to pull out before it gets too late. So far you’ve been in control – to some extent – of what’s happened. All that is about to change.”

  He spoke quietly, but it added a sinister edge to his words.

  “Why do you think things are going to change?” said Marnie. “Why now?”

  “It’s simple. Because the only way to clear my name involves bringing Marlene out of the shadows, which means it’s going to get tough from here on.”

  “If she comes out of the shadows,” Ralph said. “We don’t even know where she is just now.”

  “All the more reason to be clear about what we’re doing. Things could happen quickly, and we may not have time to sit around talking about plans by then.”

  “Good point,” said Marnie. “You always said you wanted to clear your name. You still think you can?”

  “After coming this far, it’s got to be my aim. I may not be vindicated, but I want to be understood or at least heard.”

  Ralph said, “I suppose that’s fair enough ... wanting to put your side of the story.”

  “You could’ve done that from the start,” Marnie said. “I don’t want to seem callous, but it would’ve saved a lot of trouble if you’d given your explanation when the story blew up.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Marnie.” His voice was still calm. “But when something like that blows up, you can’t tell how you’re going to react. In my case I was so shaken, I just fled. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be vilified in the national press, not what it’s really like, not when it actually happens to you. It’s horrifying.”

  “But now you’re ready to face the world,” said Ralph. “You want to issue a statement?”

  “Not yet.”

  “When?” said Marnie.

  “As soon as Marlene is ready to speak. Without her I can’t clear my name.”

  “But you could achieve that by yourself,” Marnie said. “A public statement would do it.”

  “But it would only be my word against theirs. And they’d print their side of the story in bigger print than mine. Banner headlines.”

  “But better than nothing,” Ralph said. “The other media will give you a fairer hearing when they report it.”

  “You always were more of an optimist than I am, Ralph. No. I need the girl to back me up. And without her testimony I can’t get even with the paper for what it did to me.”

  “Get even?” said Marnie. “You want to do that as well?”

  “Of course. That’s why I’ve been waiting for you to find Marlene and bring her out of hiding.”

  “Getting even doesn’t sound very Christian,” said Marnie.

  Anthony looked at her as if she had spoken in a foreign language. “Christian?”

  Marnie was going to say what Randall had told her, but changed her mind. “Just a turn of phrase.”

  “Getting even may not be very Christian,” Anthony said. “But I’ve come to learn that revenge is a very pure motive.”

  *

  “Get even!” Marnie said in exasperation as Ralph drove out of Brackley. “Bloody hell! It’s as much as we can do to keep going and try to make a statement, let alone get even. Who does he think we are, the Mafia, the SAS? There’s no way we’re going to be able to get even with a national newspaper and all the power of the press. He’s living on another planet.”

  “I wish he was,” said Ralph. “And please don’t remind me it’s because of me that we’re in this position.”

  A gloom settled on them for the rest of the journey, though they comforted themselves with the thought that things could not get much worse. That thought was dispelled when they bumped down the field track and saw Sergeant Marriner’s Cavalier waiting in the yard in its usual space.

  They walked into the office and found him sitting with a cup of tea. Anne was at her desk looking anxious. When she saw Marnie and Ralph, she headed straight for the kitchen area.

  Marnie said, “Sergeant Marriner, good afternoon. I tried to return your – no, please don’t get up – your call, but they said you were out.”

  “In the circumstances I thought a personal visit was preferable after all, Mrs Walker.” He looked tired and drawn.

  “Do we have circumstances?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Marnie glanced over to Anne at the sink. Anne shrugged. Whatever it was, Marriner had not told her. Marnie and Ralph pulled up chairs and sat down.

  “You’re here on a serious matter, then,” said Ralph.

  Marnie thought this was not as intelligent a comment as she usually expected from Ralph, until she realised what he was suggesting. Marriner understood immediately.

  “Yes, sir. Of course normally I would’ve come with a woman colleague, but as Mrs Walker is always here ..”

  “So what you’ve come to say concerns Anne?”

  “That’s right. That’s why I waited until your return before asking her any questions.”

  Marnie looked at the cup of tea in his hand. “She’s the fastest draw in the West, Sergeant.”

  A faint smile. “So I’ve noticed.”

  Ralph stood up. “Anne, I’ll do that. You come and hear what Sergeant Marriner has to say.”

  Anne walked back to her chair. As she passed Ralph, he squeezed her arm. She sat facing the detective, looking very young and vulnerable, and Marnie wished she was anywhere but there.

  Sergeant Marriner said, “Anne, there isn’t an easy way to put this. I understand that when you were questioned in London you said you’d been looking for your friend in Limehouse. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. It was true.”

  “Okay. But DCI Bruere found you and your friend at a house in Stoke Newington.”

  “Yes. Those are her digs.”

  “So why were you looking for her in the Limehouse area? It isn’t a trick question, Anne.”

  Anne immediately got his drift and frowned. “I am telling you the truth, Mr Marriner.”

  He gave an encouraging nod. She decided to give as full an answer as she could and knew that Marnie regretted that she had not always been frank with the police. Anne was about to reply when Ralph came over.

  “Sergeant Marriner,” he said. “I’m sure Anne has nothing to hide, and I’m sure your questions aren’t hostile, but don’t you think you ought to tell us why you’re pursuing this line? If Anne is likely to find herself in any kind of –”

  “She isn’t, sir. Otherwise I’d be spelling out her rights. I just need to get something clear.”

  Anne said, “I was looking for Marlene around Limehouse because I’d heard from someone that she might’ve been there. When I asked about her, someone else told me where she was, and that’s how I came to see her in Stoke ... Thingammy.”

  “Stoke Newington. Thank you. Anne, how well do you know Marlene?”

  “Not very well.”

  “Can’t you just come to the point?” Marnie said.

  “This is the point. Do you know her well enough t
o recognise her?”

  Anne looked puzzled. Marnie felt a shiver down her spine. She saw the point of the question and dreaded its implication. She could tell by Ralph’s expression that he also understood where Marriner’s question was leading.

  “Recognise her? Of course I recognise ... why?”

  As she asked her question, Anne’s eyes widened. She knew the answer before Marriner spoke, and put a hand to her mouth.

  “I’m afraid the Met have found the body of a girl answering Marlene’s description in the canal by Limehouse Basin.”

  “Are you absolutely sure of this?” Marnie said.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “They once told me about a tramp’s body being found, and it turned out to have nothing to do with their enquiry. I think they knew that at the time but were just trying to make me react.”

  “I can’t comment on that, Mrs Walker. But I can assure you that is not the case now. In fact, the reason I’ve come here is to ask ...” He turned towards Anne. “It’s to ask if you will go to London to identify the body.”

  *

  Later, sitting together on the bed in Anne’s attic room after supper, with the dread of the next day hanging over them like storm clouds, Marnie asked Anne if they should contact her parents. Anne simply shook her head.

  “Don’t you think they ought to know?” Marnie said softly. “Wouldn’t you like your mum to be with you tomorrow?”

  Anne looked alarmed.

  “God no! But you’ll come, won’t you, Marnie?”

  “Of course I will. But I thought you at least ought to tell them what’s happening.”

  “I can’t. If I did ...”

  “They’d worry about you and want you to go back home?”

  “I don’t know what they’d do. That’s the point. I don’t want to risk what I’ve got here. It’s my whole life, everything I’ve wanted since I first met you.”

  “I can understand that, Anne. But I do feel a responsibility to your parents –”

  Anne interrupted her. “Let me look after them. I talk to my mum a few times a week on the phone, like you’ve always said I could. She was worried about these muggings, but she was all right when I promised not to go out alone. It’s not my fault this poor girl’s dead ... but she’s nowhere near here. I know it must seem hard, Marnie, but I don’t want her death to stop me having my life.”

  30

  An unmarked car had been waiting for them at Euston station, indistinguishable from thousands of other Vauxhalls. Anne had thought it was just like her father’s, but this was unlike any other journey she had ever made. She sat quietly with Marnie in the back, not noticing where they were going. The streets were a blur. In front, two women police officers sat in silence. They had threaded their way through heavy traffic past King’s Cross and down towards the City of London. This time they did not see Tower Bridge or Docklands. This time there was no pleasure in modern architecture, only a hollow feeling in the pit of the stomach.

  The building in which they were sitting was like a small plain office block. They were shown into a waiting room and offered tea or coffee. They refused both, but Anne asked if she could have a glass of water. When it arrived, it was icy cold. They had expected a drab depressing mortuary, but this was a bright, well-lit place with pale blue walls and white paintwork. The floor was covered in dense grey carpet tiles that deadened the sound.

  The WDC left them and returned a minute later, asking Anne if she was ready. Marnie admired Anne’s calm manner as she stood up, nodded once and took a deep breath. She touched Marnie’s sleeve, and the WDC led them both along the passage. The police officer stopped at a door.

  “The chapel of rest is just here,” she said quietly, her hand on the door knob. “Inside, you’ll see a window on your left. When you’re ready, I want you to look in through the window. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

  Anne’s eyes moistened and she chewed her lip. She blinked a few times and whispered, “Okay.”

  Marnie fought back an urge to grab Anne by the arm and run with her down the corridor and out of the building into the fresh air. Instead she touched her hand lightly. Anne did not look at her but kept her face towards the door.

  She said softly, “I’m ready now.”

  The police officer swung the door open and went in first. They entered a space the size of a domestic living room with a picture window. Anne swallowed and turned towards the window, stepping forward slowly. The chapel was a simple space with a small altar table on which stood a brass cross and two unlit church candles. In the middle stood a coffin of light wood, with a cream lining. Anne glanced briefly down and quickly raised her eyes towards the opposite wall. Marnie heard her breathing. Anne looked down again at the face, all that was visible of the girl in the coffin. She stared for several seconds and turned towards the WDC.

  “All right?” said the police officer.

  “Yes.”

  The WDC led them back out into the corridor. “Thank you, Anne. I’m afraid it’s never easy. They’ve tried to make it as painless as possible for you. Were you able to identify her?”

  Anne said simply, “That wasn’t Marlene. I’ve never seen that girl before.”

  *

  The police Vauxhall came out of the car park at the back of the mortuary and eased into the late morning traffic. Marnie thought Anne was looking better. With her habitually pale skin, it was inappropriate to think of colour returning to her cheeks, but there was a light in her eyes again, her expression no longer dulled with anxiety. She even managed a weak smile in reply to Marnie’s unspoken question of whether she was okay.

  The WDC turned in her seat to look round at them. “We can take you back to Euston. Is that all right?”

  “Do you need a statement or anything?” Marnie asked.

  “Not in the circumstances, no. So Euston, then?”

  “Please.”

  “If you’d like to give me your address and the receipt for your train tickets, I’ll arrange for your travel expenses to be sent to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Marnie opened her wallet and took out a business card and the receipt for the train fare. A thought flashed through her mind, so fast that she could not bring it into focus. It flashed past again. She studied the wording on the card. There was her name, the Glebe Farm address, the phone numbers, the e-mail. Cream with dark blue lettering, Sally Ann’s colours. So?

  “Is that your card?” It was the WDC looking back again.

  Marnie passed both items forward. At that moment, the thought became clear and formed itself into a question.

  “How did you know to contact us?”

  “Sorry?” said the policewoman.

  “You – or rather your colleagues – got in touch with us about the girl found in the river.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? How did you know it might have something to do with us? Inspector Bruere found Anne in Stoke Newington. That’s miles north of here, up Hackney way. What connected him to Anne?”

  The WDC looked puzzled. “I see what you mean, but I don’t have an answer. My orders were just –”

  “Your card,” Anne broke in.

  “My card? What about it?”

  “Someone must’ve got the address from one of your cards.”

  “Of course!” said Marnie. “That’s it. But how ... and who?”

  “It must’ve been me,” said Anne. “I gave them to the shop people to get in touch with us if Marlene came back, that day I was in Limehouse with Ralph.”

  Marnie sat back, deep in thought. Quickly she said to the policewoman, “Could we have a change of plan? Would you mind dropping us near the old Limehouse Town Hall?”

  *

  They stood on the corner where Marlene had first picked up Anthony and started the chain of events that had led them back to this spot. The gloom of the mortuary hung over them, the memory of that other girl, that quiet shape in her box. The efforts made to reduce the pain of the identifica
tion process for Anne, had brought Marnie close to tears. Now they stood on the windy pavement with the noise of the city traffic and the dust swirling round them, both wondering who she had been, that poor lonely girl, dead and unclaimed. Marnie wondered if it was only a matter of time before they were back again, looking at the real Marlene in a box in that chapel.

  “What a morning!” Marnie said wearily. She put her arm round Anne’s shoulders. “You’ve been brilliant, you know that? What an ordeal!”

  “Marnie, what are we doing here? I don’t understand. Why have we come to this place?”

  “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  It was one of their old jokes, but Marnie often asked herself which of them was Holmes and which his faithful friend.

  Anne said, “Put your deerstalker on, then, and tell me the answer.”

  “It’s not a clever deduction,” said Marnie. “I just thought that perhaps the shopkeepers might’ve seen Marlene again, that she might be around here for some reason. It’s just a forlorn hope that we might find her, the only thing we’ve got.”

  “Is it that long a shot, you think, finding her again? Are we really back to square one?”

  Marnie fought back a sigh. “I think we may be, yes.”

  “Right,” said Anne. “Newsagent’s or chippy? Which one first?”

  Marnie looked across the road. The choice was obvious.

  They emerged from the fish-and-chip shop with the knowledge that the owner, who was clearly more at home in Cantonese, had no recollection of ever having had the card from Anne. But they did each have a portion of haddock and chips to console them. The frying smell had made them realise how little they had eaten that morning. Barely a slice of toast had sent them on their way. Marnie managed to bring out the first real smile of the day.

  “I’m not really surprised he didn’t remember you, Anne.”

  “No?”

  “I expect to the Chinese we all look alike.”

  They loitered on the pavement across the street, eating their lunch out of newspaper – inevitably pages from the Globe – before going into the other shop.