Devil in the Detail

by Leo McNeir

  “I’ll start ringing them as soon as I get back to the office.” Marnie took out her car keys. “One thing you haven’t told me, Serena. Why so big this year? What’s so special?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out, Marnie?” She gestured with her hand. “Can we get in the car for a minute?”

  Once they were seated, Serena continued.

  “I told you we heard there was going to be trouble from the race thugs. Word has reached us that they’re trying to whip up riots here, just like in Leicester. It’s this latest outfit, New Force. They’re all over this part of the country, spreading down here from cells – yes, that’s what they call them – mainly in the big Midland cities.”

  “And you plan to get the kids out of the way in case New Force make trouble?”

  “Partly. Also to stop the young ones causing any trouble themselves.”

  “Why should they?”

  “Because we know they’re going to be provoked. They’ll be a target, the young black and Asian kids. And if they retaliate – which would be understandable – they’ll be in the thick of any trouble. New Force will blame them for causing it and its consequences. I know it must sound far-fetched to you, Marnie, but –”

  “No, no, it doesn’t. I saw what happened in Leicester. The New Force people blamed the police for causing all the trouble. Police brutality, attacking a lawful, peaceful demonstration. That’s what they said.”

  “Huh! Well, that’s what we’re up against here.”

  “You think your play scheme can make that much difference? I don’t mean to sound discouraging, but how many kids can you handle?”

  “We’re expecting hundreds.”

  “Every day, right through the summer holidays?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Serena opened the car door and swung her legs out.

  “Good luck, Serena. It’s a huge task, a lot to do.”

  “Thanks for your support, Marnie. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll give you all the help I can.”

  “I’ll certainly need it, keeping all those balls in the air.”

  Their laughter rang out, and both were smiling as they went their separate ways.

  *

  Anne was on her way back from the post run when she was overtaken by Marnie near the end of the field track. She walked round to the garage barn, and they met as Marnie was climbing out of the Discovery. Anne began asking how the meetings had gone, especially the talk with Serena McDowell. Passing the Golf, Marnie asked if Anne had seen Estelle that day, and Anne told her of their brief exchange just before lunch. They reached the door to the office barn, and Anne had difficulty turning the key in the mortise lock.

  “What’s the matter?” said Marnie.

  “Dunno. It doesn’t want to turn.”

  “Shall I have a go?”

  Anne stood aside, and Marnie took hold of the key.

  “Jammed,” she muttered and twisted it both ways. “Ah …”

  The lock clicked, Marnie turned the key again and twisted the doorknob. The door swung inwards.

  “How did you do that, Marnie?”

  “Easy. It was already unlocked.”

  Anne looked puzzled. “It can’t have been. I always lock it when I leave the office unattended.”

  They stepped inside cautiously and closed the door behind them.

  “Well, it was certainly unlocked. Maybe just this once you …” Marnie stopped beside her desk. “What’s this?”

  Anne followed her and looked down at a large bunch of flowers on the blotter. Glancing across the room, she saw another bunch on her own desk, and when she went to examine it, she found a tin of luxury cat food beside it.

  “The burglars round here haven’t quite grasped the principle of breaking and entering, I think, Marnie.”

  Marnie walked over to Anne’s desk.

  “Cat burglars, obviously,” she observed.

  They grinned at each other, and Anne went to find vases under the sink.

  “How mysterious.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Anne. This really is elementary.”

  “I wondered if Ralph had come home earlier than planned.”

  “Not Ralph. I think you’ll find Estelle is no longer living alone in her cottage. That’s why she was late coming back last night. She drove down to Barnet to collect Luther’s things.”

  Anne recalled her conversation. I rarely stop in the middle of the day, at least not for food. She could hear laughter in the voice. All became clear.

  “I’ll just go across and thank them for the flowers,” said Marnie. “I’d better see if there’s anything they’re wanting by way of furniture. I might need to get them a bigger bed. That one’s only four feet wide.”

  “I doubt they’ll have noticed,” Anne muttered.

  *

  For the first evening in their new home, Estelle and Luther went out to explore the fleshpots of Northampton. Marnie had been too busy handling phone calls and correspondence when she had returned to the office to be able to talk about Serena, and Anne had to wait until supper time to ask about their meeting.

  Marnie outlined her discussion in the community centre and described the scene to Anne while they waited for garlic bread to finish baking in the oven. When they sat down to begin supper, Marnie asked Anne how her day had gone. As Anne began outlining her visit to the U-boat, Marnie’s piece of bread stopped on its way to her mouth.

  “You did what?”

  Anne grinned. “You sounded just like Beth then.”

  “You really went on the boat, when the owner was in his sleeping cabin and you had a good look round? I can hardly believe it.”

  “To be honest, Marnie, nor could I. In fact, I don’t know how I had the nerve to do it, but I was so curious, I had to see what it was like. It’s quite stylish and –”

  “Anne, I don’t care if it was decorated like the QE2, you should not have gone on that boat. Don’t you remember what Inspector Bartlett said about suspicious characters in the area?”

  “He was unconscious, Marnie. The worst he could’ve done was tell me to get out.”

  “And come looking for you later, when he was feeling well again.”

  “Oh … yes, I suppose so. I guess it was a crazy thing to do.”

  Marnie reached across the table and touched her hand.

  “You’re not stupid, Anne,” she said softly. “And I’d trust your judgment in practically any situation … apart from those where you’ve almost got yourself killed, of course.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Good. But I think you can see why that wasn’t a good idea, can’t you?”

  “Because it could have led to trouble,” said Anne.

  “And?”

  “What I saw means he probably is a Nazi, or at least a sympathiser?”

  “Got it in one.”

  “So what do we do about it? Should we contact Inspector Bartlett and tell him we might have one of his weirdoes camping out on our doorstep?”

  Marnie shrugged. “I suppose we ought to, though apart from one photograph and the fact that he likes black clothes …”

  They began eating in silence. Marnie was worried about alerting the police to a possible felon, and shopping a fellow boater to the authorities without any evidence of wrongdoing on his part. Anne’s thoughts were tempered by her sympathy for someone probably suffering with a migraine, while she merrily trespassed on his boat uninvited, even if her motives were good. Partly good, she admitted to herself, as she recalled that it was curiosity that had led here on.

  “What proof do we have that he’s not perfectly straight?” said Marnie.

  “His boat looks unusual, he rides a mountain bike and he has a picture of an old racing car on the wall. Not exactly criminal, is it?”

  “No,” said Marnie. “It isn’t.”

  “And he’s got a collection of cameras.”

  “Cameras? That’s not criminal either, unless they’re stolen property.
”

  “He’s got them on display on a shelf.”

  “Are they special in some way?”

  “It says Leica on the front. They look quite old.”

  “If they’re genuine, they could be valuable,” said Marnie. “Old Leicas are worth hundreds in reasonable condition.”

  “I think they’re just his collection,” said Anne.

  “So, all other considerations aside – about the right to personal privacy, and such – there’s nothing whatever to link him with the far right people causing mayhem on the streets.”

  “Except he turns up when the police are warning about suspicious characters,” Anne replied. “He’s in a boat painted like no other boat we’ve ever seen, the interior looks like something out of The Spy in Black, we’re surrounded by thugs causing race riots and bombing buildings, and he’s got a swastika as a decoration on the wall.”

  Marnie frowned. “You think there’s a link?”

  “You think it’s a coincidence?”

  “Now you’re sounding like me,” said Marnie. “That’s a bad sign. Ask Beth.”

  12

  “Hallo.” No response. Marnie raised the volume a touch. “Hallo, Anne. Are you receiving me, over?”

  Across the office Anne’s head jerked up. “What? Oh, sorry, Marnie. I was thinking of something.”

  “You’ve done more thinking this morning than Einstein did in a week.”

  “It’s these, er, invoices. I’ve got to sort them out and –”

  Marnie waved papers. “I’ve got them here. I took them from your desk for checking half an hour ago. They’re all done.”

  Anne sighed. She had been in a near trance since their day had begun and now, with the builders’ break time rapidly approaching, she was still unfocused. Marnie knew the reason why.

  Over breakfast they had been listening as usual to the BBC Today programme when a report was made on a series of incidents that had happened in the night. In several parts of the country, shops owned by Asians had had their windows broken, and some had been sprayed with graffiti. The news desk was making the connection that these were not coincidences or unrelated occurrences.

  Anne had asked Marnie if they could look at the morning news programme on television to see the damage for themselves, and reluctantly she had agreed; reluctantly because she did not want Anne to become more worried than she was already. They had finished breakfast at the double and gone back to Anne’s room. They were in time to see the reports coming in from around the country. It made the lead story of the day. A map came up on the screen and, one by one, coloured dots were added to show where the attacks had taken place. From Burnley to Bristol, Preston to Portsmouth, Leeds to London, there were dozens of incidents.

  The BBC’s home affairs editor stood across the street from a corner shop in north London and gave his report, microphone in hand.

  Neighbours heard the sound of glass being smashed at around two o’clock this morning and heard a motorcycle roar away. Looking out, they saw that the front window of the shop had been shattered. Nothing was taken. This was not a robbery but deliberate vandalism.

  It appears to have been part of a pattern in all parts of the country. Earlier I spoke with Commander Austin Walters of the Metropolitan Police who confirmed that the authorities are treating this as a co-ordinated operation. In his view this was centrally planned, but probably carried out locally by regional groups. He would not comment on the suggestion that it had been led by the far right organisation, New Force, but other police chiefs have stated that it bears all the hallmarks of their style of concerted action.

  They had waited for the regional news report to see if local shops had been targeted. Marnie was dreading the possibility that someone might have gone back to finish off the community centre in Northampton. But the sole victim that night had been a shop in a suburb of the town. The reporter suggested that a local agent had staged this attack in liaison with the group that had organised the rioting in Leicester, referring to this person as Mr. X. The only difference compared with the London incident had been that no-one had heard any vehicle speeding away after the shattering of the window. The reporter speculated that the attacker had used a silent means of transport, possibly a bicycle, to vanish into the night, possibly escaping over rough terrain nearby.

  It was at that point that they realised they had not looked to see if the stranger’s boat was still moored across from Thyrsis. While Marnie got the office underway, Anne jogged back through the trees, returning minutes later to report that the U-boat was still in position, but the mountain bike had gone.

  Anne decided she had to shake off her pre-occupations and went to fill the kettle. While she was putting the builders’ mugs on a tray, Estelle walked in carrying a file of papers. Behind her, Luther put his head round the door, called a hurried greeting and left. Estelle put the file on Marnie’s desk.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Marnie, I‘ve done a design for the whole place. Voilà!”

  Marnie sat back in her chair. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

  “Onward and upward.” Estelle beamed. Then her gaze fell on Anne. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  Anne looked flustered. “What do you mean?”

  “I get the impression you’re not a happy bunny.”

  “We’re both feeling a bit disturbed by the reports on the news,” said Marnie. “The attacks on the Asian shops coming so soon after the riots in Leicester and the fire bomb in Northampton. Well, you know.”

  “Sure. I understand. We saw the TV news. But life has to go on. Luther couldn’t put off going to Leicester because there are some nasties there.”

  “Nazis?” said Anne.

  “Nasty people.” Estelle enunciated it slowly. “We can’t just play into the hands of the bad guys. That way, they win. If people had stood up to the fascists, my grandparents’ generation wouldn’t have been exterminated.”

  “Would you like coffee?” Marnie tried to veer away from the holocaust for Anne’s sake.

  “If you’ve got time to let me go through my scheme,” said Estelle, settling on the corner of the desk.

  “You’re on.”

  “Great. And before I forget, would you and Anne be free to come to our housewarming party this evening?”

  *

  They both knew they were going to do it as soon as they walked back through the spinney for lunch and saw that the mountain bike was still absent from the roof of the U-boat. Marnie and Anne exchanged glances on reaching Sally Ann’s docking area. Anne’s raised eyebrow was met by an imperceptible nod.

  Standing on the towpath, Marnie suggested that Anne keep watch while she inspected the porthole. Anne trotted back to take up station on the bridge, giving her a clear view for half a mile along the path in both directions. She signalled to Marnie with a thumbs-up worthy of a Battle of Britain Spitfire pilot.

  Marnie advanced quickly towards the boat, aiming for the second porthole from the bows. Anne saw her staring at it, but knew from Marnie’s expression that she could not see in. Marnie did a quick inspection of all the path-side portholes, shook her head and hurried back to the bridge.

  “No luck?”

  “No. He’s pulled the curtain right over, couldn’t see a thing. Perhaps Kapitän X wants to guard his privacy.”

  “Is that what you think, Marnie? That he could be the Mr X they talked about on the news, the one masterminding the action round here?”

  “Slip of the tongue,” said Marnie. “Come on, before he gets back and X marks the spot where he catches us spying on him.”

  When they reached the shelter of the spinney Marnie said, “I still don’t think I can contact Bartlett about our mystery visitor. We really haven’t got enough proof of anything. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation for the swastika. We might just look foolish.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it as well.”

  “Non-stop, as I seem to recall.”

  “Well, yes. Anyway, I was thin
king that when Richard – my brother – was younger, he used to make model aeroplanes, little plastic ones from kits of parts.”

  “Did he hang them from the ceiling?”

  “No. Mum said they gathered dust. But dad put up some shelves, and he had them lined up in rows. He used to paint them and put labels on the plinths. I remember that some of them had swastikas on and black-and-white crosses.”

  “But that didn’t make your brother a Nazi sympathiser.”

  “Course not. He just wanted to collect the whole set, like his friends.”

  “I bet there’s some reason like that,” said Marnie reassuringly, putting an arm round Anne’s thin shoulders.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  They made their way in silence back to Sally Ann for lunch. Anne was feeling marginally better about the U-boat and the mysterious young Kapitän X, seeing in her memory her brother’s little plastic fighter-planes in tidy rows. Marnie was less contented, thinking that grown-ups don’t have the same reasons for keeping possessions as children do, especially in the limited confines of a narrowboat.

  *

  Marnie changed for the housewarming into a summer dress, for it promised to be a warm evening. Grabbing a bottle of Aussie sparkling wine from the fridge on Thyrsis, she headed back to the office barn to meet Anne, who had driven to the nearest garden centre to buy Estelle and Luther a plant. Marnie pushed open the office door and called up the loft ladder.

  “Anybody home?”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Seconds later Anne climbed down the ladder wearing black trousers and a magenta silk top.

  “Do you think this is OTT, Marnie? I don’t seem to have many things suitable for evening wear.”

  “You look great. We’ll have to have a shopping session, when we can find the time, to get you a few more bits and pieces.”

  “No way. You spoil me as it is.”

  They were outside and Marnie was locking the office door, when Anne said, “I meant to ask if you’d told Ralph about the project at the community centre, and about the U-boat and what did he think of it all.”