Devil in the Detail

by Leo McNeir

  “Only about the centre. I didn’t think it a good idea to tell him you’d been trespassing on a strange man’s boat while he was there … and in bed.”

  “Marnie, it sounds awful if you put it like that.”

  “How would you put it that made it sound better?” Marnie spoke in an even tone.

  Anne bit her lip. “I’m amazed I did that, actually. I can’t believe it when I look back.”

  “You’re lucky Kapitän X didn’t wake up.” She saw Anne’s expression. “Better not to think about it.”

  Armed with plant and wine, they turned to cross the yard when a sound reached them that made them stop in their tracks. Normally a bicycle would not be a cause of alarm, but hearing the sound of wheels rolling across the gravel behind the barn, they both shared the same thought.

  “Uh-oh,” Anne muttered softly. “I think we’re about to be raided by the Gestapo.”

  They braced themselves for the arrival of Kapitän X and were greatly surprised, not to say relieved, when round the corner of the barn came Ronny Cope, expertly raising a leg over the saddle of his bike, which he brought to a stop beside them. He looked at them quizzically.

  “Hi! What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “That’s a cliché,” said Anne. “But you’re forgiven because you’re not who we thought you were.”

  “That’s all very clear,” said Ronny. “Are you two going out? You’re all dressed up. I was hoping we might’ve gone for a walk.”

  “We’re going to a party,” said Marnie. “The social event of the year.”

  Ronny hitched himself back on the saddle. “Oh well, on yer bike, Cope. And don’t tell me. That’s another cliché.”

  He began turning the bike when a voice called out from across the yard.

  “Hey, Ronny, wanna come for supper?” Estelle was standing in the doorway of the cottage wearing a long skirt in Indian cotton and a low-cut top. “Are you free?”

  He looked down at his jeans and trainers, the Nike sweatshirt.

  “I’m not really dressed for the social event of the year.”

  “You look good to me.”

  He coloured slightly and stammered. “Well, er, yeah, I, er, that’s …”

  “I should stick to clichés,” said Anne. “At least you manage to say something that way.”

  *

  It was a small gathering. Estelle had invited Jill and Alex from next door in addition to Marnie and Anne. When Ronny again protested that he was gate-crashing, Luther assured him that seven was a lucky number. They had put the dining table and chairs out on the patio at the back of the cottage, and fairy lights had been strung round the edge of the paving, so that they were sitting surrounded by tiny lamps on all sides. Acoustic guitar music wafted out from inside the house. Ronny’s unease was soon dissipated when Luther asked if he would like to help him bring out the food, which was an interesting mixture of Mediterranean and Near Eastern.

  Estelle was a vivacious hostess and gave the impression of one who was at ease with herself and with life. She seemed to be completely at home in a place that she had known for only a few days and had slept in for only a couple of nights. Anne’s plant gift was a patio rose, a pink variety in a rustic pot of terra-cotta, and it was received with effervescent praise and thanks, and kisses on both cheeks. Estelle placed it artistically on the corner of the patio and declared it perfect.

  Marnie commended Anne for her choice of present while they were sampling a plate of mini-bagels topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon. They both noticed that Ronny was getting on well with Luther, who seemed to be telling a funny story, and Ronny almost spilled his Rioja when Luther reached his narrative’s punch line. Estelle, meanwhile, was grilling Alex and Jill about life in Knightly St John. The conversation was flowing as freely as the wine.

  “Is this how you imagined it would be one day?” Anne asked Marnie quietly. “Civilised people living happily, enjoying life in lovely surroundings? Is it how you wanted?”

  “I suppose it is. Though I’d never thought about it in that sort of detail. I just wanted people to come and live here in harmony and make a good atmosphere.”

  “Live in harmony,” Anne repeated. “Sounds great to me.”

  For a second Marnie had a mental flashback to an army of thugs on the move like trolls, and reading her momentary change of expression, Anne saw the U-boat, but this time decorated on the outside with the hooked cross motif from the photograph. They looked at each other, both aware in an instant of intimate telepathy of what the other was thinking. The atmosphere was only broken when Ronny came towards them carrying a bottle of wine to replenish their glasses.

  “You seem at home,” said Marnie. “I think you’ve found a friend.”

  Ronny grinned. “Luther’s great. He knows a lot about sport. I think he comes from a really interesting family.”

  The others gathered round him, holding up their glasses for more wine. In the background, Luther had gone into the house to fetch further plates of food.

  “I’ll say he does,” Estelle chimed in. “But he’s very modest about them and about himself. You must have the knack of being a good listener, Ronny. Any woman will tell you it’s the greatest quality a man can have … well, almost the greatest.”

  They all laughed, including Ronny, though he wondered fleetingly whether the joke was on him. Luther returned carrying a tray holding bowls of houmous, taramasalata and tsatsiki, plus dishes of chopped vegetables for dipping. Everyone took seats round the table, and when Luther asked what was the cause of the laughter, Estelle explained that Ronny had been interested to hear about his family.

  “Where do they come from?” said Alex.

  “Wood Green, in my case,” said Luther. “Though I was actually born in Goodge Street, off the Tottenham Court Road.”

  More laughter.

  “And the rest of the family?”

  “West Indies. Barbados.”

  “Do you play cricket?”

  “That’s what everybody asks.”

  “And do you?”

  “Well, yes, in a modest way.”

  “His dad was a test player,” said Ronny. “Go on, Luther, tell us about him and the others. And about you.”

  “I thought this was meant to be a housewarming, not an interview,” Luther protested half-heartedly and smiling.

  “You can’t stop now,” said Estelle. “Just give the potted version of the family history. Then we can all admire you and leave you in peace.”

  “OK. My father played cricket in the 60s and 70s, and yes, he played for the West Indies, moved to England to play for Middlesex. He’s still there as a coach, though he’s semi-retired now.”

  “What’s his name?” Alex interrupted.

  “Greville.”

  “Not Greville Curtiss? I’ve heard of him. Fast bowler. Brilliant player. Didn’t he get some sort of record against … India?”

  “Yes, though it was Pakistan.”

  “Wow!”

  “Luther’s a cricketer, too,” said Estelle.

  “Not in my father’s class, though.”

  “You played for London schools,” said Estelle. “At cricket and football.”

  Luther grinned. “You’ve got to do something to keep warm in England in the winter.”

  “He played for Tottenham Hotspur,” Estelle explained with a note of pride.

  “For Spurs?” said Ronny. “That’s amazing.”

  “Only for the youth team. I had a trial for the senior side, but I wasn’t serious enough to go the whole way. You might say I was the black sheep of the family.”

  Everyone laughed, and Marnie suspected it was a joke he had used before.

  “Did the fact that all the others were so sporty put you off?” Anne asked.

  “Oh, he can be pretty athletic when he wants to be,” said Estelle.

  More laughter.

  “I mainly wanted to do academic things, too keen on my studies. My father thinks I lacked the
incentive of boys born and raised in the West Indies. Sport was a way up the ladder for him, and to some extent for my brothers and sister.”

  At that moment Marnie’s mobile began ringing in her bag. She reached down and pulled it out, apologising as she stood up and moved into the house, pressing the green button.

  “Marnie Walker. “

  “Marnie, sorry to disturb you in the evening. This is Dorothy Vane-Henderson. Are you watching the television news?”

  “Hallo, Mrs Vane-Henderson. No, I’m not.”

  “Then switch it on now. I’ll speak to you later.” The line went dead.

  There was alarm in her voice that made Marnie rush to the living room and turn on Estelle’s TV without stopping to ask permission. The image that came up on the screen looked like a re-run of something she had seen before. Fire-fighters were swarming over a building, flames licking from window frames, ambulances and fire engines in the background. The picture changed as the reporter came on, a young woman speaking into a microphone.

  All the signs point to a determined attack aimed at killing or at least injuring the members of the community centre who were in the building clearing up the remains of the debris left behind from the previous fire.

  The previous fire! Marnie thought. Could it be?

  At the time the bomb went off there were about a dozen people inside the building. Four have been taken to hospital suffering from cuts and burns, with two more being treated for smoke inhalation. Paramedical staff are treating others at the scene and have had to abandon any further attempts to enter the building because of its instability.

  Marnie’s phone rang again. Another voice, no less alarmed than the first.

  “Are you watching the news, Marnie?” It was Serena.

  “Yes. Is it the centre in Northampton?”

  “Can you see an ambulance in the picture?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m in it.”

  “In it? Are you injured? Are you all right?”

  “Got hit by flying woodwork. I’m OK, though. It’s the ones who breathed in the smoke I’m worried about. They got trapped, lucky to get out, damn’ lucky. Oh … My turn to be patched up. Gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon, Marnie. We’ve gotta nail these bastards.” She was gone.

  “What’s going on?” Estelle was standing in the doorway.

  Marnie apologised for her abrupt exit and filled Estelle in on what had happened. The news item had come to an end, and they switched off the television.

  “That’s where you went yesterday?” said Estelle.

  Marnie nodded. “To plan redecoration.”

  “Won’t be much to redecorate, I’d say.”

  “I’m sorry about having the mobile on, Estelle. I didn’t even realise it was in my bag.” She smiled ruefully. “A night off.”

  On cue, it warbled again. Estelle excused herself to return to the party, leaving Marnie to take the call. It was Dorothy Vane-Henderson.

  “I’ve phoned the hospital to find out how they are, the ones admitted with smoke inhalation.”

  “Any news?”

  “Not yet. They’re still being treated.”

  “And the hospital staff probably won’t talk to anyone except relatives, I suppose,” said Marnie.

  “Oh, they’ll speak to me. I tell them who I am and that these are my people.”

  “I see.” Marnie had a flash of sola topees, ebony servants in white uniforms serving sundowners on the veranda, with a punkah wallah in attendance.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to do anything about the centre for quite a while now, Marnie. Serena told me you were going to contact the authority about finding an architect and try to get some alternative premises for the summer scheme. I think you can forget the architect for the time being.”

  “And the summer scheme?”

  “I’ll phone the Leader of the County Council and tell him we need support.”

  “You mean the summer scheme will still go ahead?” Marnie failed to keep the note of doubt out of her voice.

  “Of course. Why shouldn’t it?” Mrs Vane-Henderson did not try to keep the note of determination out of hers.

  “There are thugs out there serious enough about harming the community to stop at nothing, and …” Marnie’s voice petered out. “You’re thinking we need some Dunkirk spirit, aren’t you, Mrs Vane-Henderson?”

  “Of course. It’s the only way. It’s the British response to any form of hostility.”

  Marnie went back to the gathering, and all eyes turned towards her on the patio. She reassured everyone that the situation in Northampton was under control. With rapid presence of mind Ronny poured some wine and handed Marnie a glass. She raised it towards her new tenants.

  “A toast. To Estelle and Luther. Welcome and every happiness.”

  “In this haven of tranquillity,” Anne added in a stage whisper.

  Everyone laughed and drank.

  *

  Marnie was sitting up in bed trying to read a design magazine when the mobile rang that night. She expected Ralph, but it was Serena.

  “Where are you?”

  “They let me come home. I’ve hardly got a scratch.”

  “What about the others, the ones taken to casualty?”

  “Two have been kept in for observation. They’ve been on oxygen because of the smoke.”

  “Do the police know who did this?”

  “They won’t say anything in public – no evidence – but privately they think it’s someone connected with New Force. It’s the same type of bomb used on a hall in Coventry last month.”

  “What’s happened to the building?”

  “It’s a shell. We can forget the redecoration, Marnie. It’ll have to be pulled down.”

  “Who says so?”

  “Just guessing.”

  “You ought to get an expert to look it over.”

  “That’s why I’m ringing.”

  “You need a proper architect or structural engineer, Serena. I’m not trained in that sort of thing.”

  “Could you just take a look, though? Then you could talk to an architect on our behalf. You at least speak the right language.”

  Marnie thought for a few seconds. “I could have a look round, take some Polaroids, I suppose, maybe have a word with Philip. Perhaps Estelle could come with me. She’s well advanced with her project. She’s good on structural things.”

  “Could you come in the morning?”

  “Will they allow us on site so soon after the fire?”

  “I’m going.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The mobile rang again after a few minutes. Marnie told Ralph about the housewarming party and asked how the conference was going. She had had enough of arson and terrorism for one night and decided not to tell Ralph about the second fire bomb. Minutes after disconnecting she fell into a restless and troubled asleep.

  13

  Leaving Anne in charge of the office, Marnie set off with Estelle aiming to meet Serena at nine at the community centre. She had rushed to get ready and deliberately avoided listening to the news programmes on the radio. All she wanted was to be on the road and doing something, rather than just hearing what was happening in the outside world. Estelle had been only too ready to go with her to Northampton, and they piled into the Discovery like a plane crew scrambled for action and charged up the field track on their way to the town. It was a beautiful sunny morning.

  The traffic was thinning as they drove through the streets, and Marnie pulled into a multi-storey car-park round the corner from the centre. The two women, carrying files and notepads, briskly walked the short distance down the road with the unmistakeable odour of burnt timber pervading the air. Turning into the side street, they were immediately stopped by police tape stretched right across the opening. A uniformed officer approached, eyeing the files and Marnie’s camera bag and taking in their business-like appearance.

  “Are you from the authority?”

  Before Marnie could spea
k, a car pulled up behind them and Serena’s face looked out as the driver’s window slid down.

  “This is a colleague from the centre management,” Marnie said quickly.

  “I’m the vice-chair,” Serena called out. “Superintendent Harris arranged to meet us here this morning.”

  The constable looked at Serena for a few seconds and lifted the tape, indicating where to park. Marnie and Estelle followed, and quick introductions were made at the kerbside.

  “This may not be easy,” said Marnie. “The police are treating this as a crime scene, obviously, and they won’t want us in the way.”

  Serena frowned. “But their boss, Harris, said it would be okay to come and have a quick look-see. I wasn’t expecting all this.”

  All this was a cluster of police cars and vans, including an ominous unmarked navy blue van standing to one side.

  “There’s the Superintendent over there.” Serena pointed towards one of the officers conferring with a man in fire brigade uniform near the entrance. “I think I ought to say hallo.”

  When Harris noticed their arrival he detached himself from the fire officer and came towards them.

  “Mrs McDowell, we need to have a word … in private, please.”

  He looked serious, even by police standards. Marnie’s antennae were twitching.

  “These are my colleagues,” said Serena. “They need to be present.”

  “Very well. But this must remain confidential. Can you account for all the people who were here in the building last night? You gave us about a dozen names. Was that a complete list?”

  “It was our clearing-up party for last night. So yes.”

  “You’re certain it contained the names of everybody present … everybody in your group?”

  “It wasn’t easy to get that many to turn out. There weren’t any extras. Why are you asking me this?”

  “You’ve found a body,” Marnie said quietly.

  Three pairs of eyes snapped in her direction.

  “You are?” Harris was staring at her.

  “This is Mrs Walker,” said Serena. “She’s in charge of the renovation of the building. Is she right?”

  Harris breathed in. “Remains have been found in amongst the rubble,” he said slowly. “We need to know if it was one of your work-party.”