Hed opened the door into the bigger room. Bitch Novello was there—still not meeting my gaze.
Pascoe said—drop Miss Heywood off as you pass Kyoto—will you?—
Neither of us spoke as Novello led me down the stairs & across the lawn to where a police car was waiting. I could see Mr Godley sitting in the back. Novello opened the rear door for me & I got in.
Every time I see Mr Godley I seem to adjust his age downward. Id got him down to nearer thirty than forty—but today when he turned those gentle gray eyes on me—if it hadnt been for the grizzled beard—he could have been a frightened teenager. In fact—up close—I could see that the beard wasnt so much grizzled as gilded—the lighter colored hairs amidst the dark brown being bright gold rather than gray. Some genetic quirk—I thought—or maybe hes got highlights! He was wearing jeans & a t-shirt—the former a bit too big—the latter a bit too small. Meaning theyd got his own clothes for examination—so he was still some way from being out of the woods.
He did his usual shrinking away thing—& when I said—how are you?—he said—fine—in a choked sort of voice—& turned his head to look out of the window.
Novello had got in the front passenger seat. She looked round & said to Mr Godley—wheres our driver then?—
—he said something about getting a cup of coffee—said Mr Godley.
—Jesus!—said Novello—whats he think hes on?—a coach tour of the dales?—
Then she got out & strode off back toward the garage.
I said—nows our chance—we could make a run for it—
He looked round at me & said—why should I want to run?—
I said—I didnt mean anything—look Mr Godley while Ive got the chance—I just want to say I think its absolutely ludicrous suspecting you of being involved in Lady Denhams murder—
He looked at me blankly for a moment—then he smiled—& bang went another 5 years!
—thank you—he said—thank you—
To my horror I realized that—above the smile—there were tears in his eyes.
—sorry—he said—brushing them away—its just that—a kind word—from you—
I wasnt really listening—I was too busy staring at his hands. It wasnt till he raised them to his face that I realized he was wearing handcuffs!
I burst out—I thought they were letting you go—Pascoe said they were taking you home—
—oh yes—he said—so that they can search it with me there—
—what a bastard that man is!—I cried.
—hes doing his job—he said resignedly.
—Im going to put in a complaint!—I fulminated.
Hed been looking at me sort of assessingly—rather disconcerting—seeing hed never managed to meet my gaze for more than a split second on our previous meetings.
He said—Miss Heywood—could you do something for me?—if you see Doris—could you tell her Im all right?—& no matter what they say—I havent said anything?—
I said—Doris?—
He said—Im sorry—Miss Lee—
I said—but I thought she was called Yan—
He said—thats her professional name—she was christened Doris—
—christened?—I said. For some reason I found myself thinking—Miss Lees converted so that they can get married in whatever happy-clappy chapel Godly Gordon worships at—but whos daft idea was it to lumber her with a name like Doris?!
Then I pulled myself up & said—sorry Mr Godley—your private relationships are your own business—yes—of course Ill pass on your message—
He was looking all anguished—us trick cyclists are good at spotting that kind of thing—the facial spasms & writhing lips are the subtle clinical signs we look out for—then he burst out—shes my sister!—
Well I was fair gobsmacked!—stunnered!—dundercowpt!—all those other things dad is whenever something happens to remind him its the 21st century!
—but youre not Chinese—are you?—I said stupidly.
At least that made him smile again.
—youve noticed—he said. 1st time Id heard him make anything like a joke.
Then it all came out.
Miss Lee is really Doris Godley—Gordons half sister! His dad married the daughter of a Taiwanese couple who ran a takeaway in Leeds. They produced Doris. When she was 9 her mother died. Cancer. Gordons dad married again a year later. Shortly afterward Gordon appeared. When he was 5 his mum ran off with a salesman—& Gordon was more or less brought up by his half sister—Doris. Age 16 she started working in her grandparents takeaway—till they sold up & went back to Taiwan. After that she was a checkout girl at Tescos—but shed got interested in acupuncture through some practitioner her grandparents used—name of Yan Lee—& acted as a sort of part-time assistant cum apprentice. When Yan Lee died a few years later—Doris thought of taking over but found the old ethnic clientele didnt much fancy being stuck with—& by—Doris Godley from Tescos. By this time Gordon—now 19—had discovered his—alleged!—healing powers—though this was a talent not much valued in the council wages office where he worked.
Then—a few years on—their dad died leaving them a surprisingly large insurance payout & the family home—a terrace house in a bit of Leeds which was in the process of being gentrified. So—with a bit of money to play with—they each decided to follow their true calling. Doris headed upmarket—first moving to Harrogate & taking over her old mentors name—Yan Lee—even recycling some of her professional certificates for added authenticity.
Eventually she fetched up in Sandytown—because a patient whose arthritis she did wonders for turned out to be Lady Denhams land agent! He was the one Lady D told to do the deal with Avalon while she was putting Sir Harry through his paces in the Caribbean! Hearing Doris was looking for new premises he said—why not relocate completely?—Sandytowns on the up—exaggerating a bit probably cos he wanted his own treatment source handy! As a sweetener he offered a generous 10 year lease on Witch Cottage.
She thought it all looked a bit too Sleepy Hollowish to start with—but clever agent made sure she met Tom Parker—already a crazy fan of alternative medicine. So she stayed—& when the Great Consortium sprang into being—with Toms plans for promoting alternative therapies—she thought shed really got it made.
But there was a downside. Lady D now began to look at all her many land & property holdings in the light of the new marketing opportunities on offer. Eventually it occurred to her that Witch Cottage—picturesque & historical—was a potential mini-goldmine. Guided tours—local fare—a gift shoppe! The only trouble was Miss Lees lease—watertight—& with renewal options. Doris was unbudgeable. She knew a good thing when she saw it. But dear old Daph was no slouch when it came to finding angles! Somehow she found out the truth about Doris & she put it to her—if she insisted on the terms of her lease—Lady D would go public—taking the high moral ground—insisting that the good name of Sandytown would be soiled forever—if they permitted a known con artist to continue practicing her unqualified medicine there!
Nothing Doris could do but agree to move out. When she told Gordon he was furious—hence the row with his hostess at the hog roast.
But none of this did he want the police to know—because of what it would do to his sisters reputation if it got out.
I told him he was crazy—he was under suspicion of murder for Godsake!—he had to come clean. But he was adamant. He owed Doris more than he could ever repay. In any case—he said—in this country innocent people dont get condemned for crimes they havent committed.
I started to say—if you beleive that youll beleive anything.
Then suddenly Novello & Wield appeared.
The sergeant said—change of plan—we need to talk to you a bit more Mr Godley—
& he started to help Gordon out of the car.
At the same time Novello opened the front passenger door. I saw her pick something up from the seat—& start slipping it into her pocket.
I leaned forward & got hold of her wrist.
It was a mobile phone—& it was switched on.
Novello didnt pull away or anything—just turned bright red—confirming what my mind was telling me.
Id been put in the car with Gordon Godley to get him to talk—& uglymug Wield & cunningbastard Pascoe had been listening in on everything he said!
What was worse—Gordon had paused half out of the car & was taking in this little scene—only—from the way he turned those big gentle eyes on me like a dear old Labrador whose owner has inexplicably given him a hard kick—he had jumped to the conclusion that I was in on it!
I yelled—no! I didnt know!—really!—
But already Wield was marching him away from me.
Novello started to slide across into the drivers seat—saying—right—Ill drive you home now—
I opened the door & got out.
—fuck you—I said—fuck you & all the rest of you—Ill walk—
OK—not the most elegant of put-downs—I thought of several much better on my way back up the hill—but none of them good enough to damp down my anger. When I got back to Kyoto Minnie was waiting for me—gagging for a blow-by-blow account—but I brushed past the poor kid & came straight up to my room to e you. O God Cassie—I wish you were here so we could talk—face to face. Something like this happens & suddenly everyone looks different—everything has at least a double meaning—theres nobody to trust. Id pack my bag & head for home—except I know that Id just take all this other baggage with me. You used to say one day it would get me into real trouble—always putting the most sensational interpretation on the most ordinary of incidents. But this time Im not fantasizing.
Shit has happened—is still happening—here in Sandytown—& Im not leaving till Ive helped clean it up!
Lots of love
Charley xxxxxx
4
I need to watch myself!
Felt a bit knackered when I got back and had my last chat with Mildred, and thought I’d take forty winks. When I woke, it had been at least an hour and I’d have been happy to make it longer! It felt real good lying there on my bed—like a day off at home when there’s no reason to get up afore opening time.
But I knew it weren’t really good. In fact, it were downright bad. When a Home starts feeling like home, that means you’re getting institutionalized! All them proud words to Pascoe about being a cop first, a patient second, seemed just hot air. Didn’t have a good CID thought in me. Needed to snap meself out of that, so rolled off the bed, doused my head in cold water, and settled down to read the Heywood lass’s e-mails.
That helped a lot, made me ashamed of myself. I mean, here’s me, the great detective, can hardly drag himself out of bed, and here’s this young lass, bright as a button, sharp eyes taking everything in, nebby as a norrie, always making connections, not scared of two and two making five, in fact sometimes she could jump to conclusions for England!
I laughed out loud at the bits she wrote about me.
Could Pete be right about her writing that note to Daph? Not likely, I’d say. Any lass brought up on Stompy Heywood’s farm’s going to have a right down-to-earth attitude to the animal kingdom. No cruelty, but no sentimentality either. Mind you, owt’s possible when you’ve been a student. Whatever, it’s real good intelligence, this stuff. Bet she hates Ivor’s guts for spreading it around! Hope Pete’s got the sense to be straight with her. Could be useful if he keeps her onside.
But I can’t sit around here all day when there’s work to be done. I told Pete I’d take statements from Fester and Pet. Who should I start with? Pet’s handiest, but I reckon the longer I keep her waiting, the gabbier she’ll be. So I’ll take a stroll up to the clinic and see if I can wipe that smile off them teeth! I’d best take these e-mails with me. Don’t want Pet doing a search for illegal substances and coming across these. Any road, man carrying a file always looks more official.
And just in case Fester breaks down and makes a full confession, I’ll stick my friend Mildred in the file and leave her running!
5
Andy! I didn’t hear you knock.
Knock? Oh aye. Short-term memory still on the blink. Sorry.
Never mind. It’s good to see you. How’re you doing? You look well. Come on in, take a seat, let’s review your progress.
Nay, Lester, that’s not why I’m here. Not doctor and patient this time. This is official. I’m back on the job. Mind if I put another cushion on this chair, raise me up a bit? That’s better. Always like to look a suspect straight in the eyes.
Suspect?
Did I say suspect? Witness, that’s what I meant. No way you could be a suspect, is there? Not the way you felt about poor old Daph.
And what way was that, Andy?
Best make that Superintendent, just for the record. You loved her, didn’t you?
Loved her? Good God, no! Not in any romantic sense. We were friends, I hope. And I admired her energy, her drive. But as for love…!
You mean you weren’t secretly having a passionate affair then?
No, we weren’t! I can’t imagine who’s been saying these things!
Well, let’s think. That would be…everybody!
Then everybody was wrong. It does happen, you know.
Oh aye? Like in elections your side of the pond, you mean? Whoops, let’s not get political, eh? But you can see how folk got the wrong end of the stick. I mean, I only saw the two of you together a couple of times, and both times she were giving your tonsils the old tongue massage. And then again, when you went to Switzerland on exchange last year, didn’t she straight off book a holiday so she could be on your doorstep? From where I’m sitting, looks like a straight case of love to me.
Not on my side. I can’t answer for what Lady Denham may have felt, but there was no reciprocation, I assure you.
Recipro—what you said. That a trick-cyclist term for shagging?
Don’t pretend to misunderstand my vocabulary, Superintendent. I have read your case notes, remember? I know just how bright you are.
Does that mean I can use you for a reference? All right, no bullshit. Just to get things quite clear, she fancied you, but you didn’t fancy her, right?
Yes, I think that captures the essence.
So all this face sucking, you put up with it for the sake of politeness? Or what?
I certainly didn’t wish to offend her.
Why not? The woman’s stalking you. Why didn’t you wish to offend her?
I think stalking’s putting it a tad high.
Following you halfway across Europe ain’t stalking?
She was on vacation! Our Swiss clinic is located in a very popular winter sports area.
Nay, don’t get your stethoscope in a twist. All right, have it your way. She weren’t stalking you and you weren’t running away from her.
Running away? Who said that?
No one said that. I said you weren’t running away. Man in your job mebbe ought to listen a bit harder. Patient tells you he likes fluffy towels and you hear he likes fucking owls, that could get you into real bother with the GMC. Listen, Lest, let’s play this straight. Poor old Daph’s dead. I want to find out who killed her. You too, right? So cut the crap, let’s talk turkey, no witnesses, no recording, just thee and me, man-to-man.
You’re quite right. Murder’s more important than personal vanity. I’m sorry. Yes, Daphne fancied me; yes, I was happy to encourage her because she was generous in her support of the Avalon; and yes, I probably allowed what to me was merely a flirtatious relationship to go too far. I prided myself that my daily experience dealing with the clinically deluded and deranged meant I could quite easily take care of a fond old lady. I use fond in all its senses. Originally it meant…
No need to explain, Lest. I got a lad working for me who can conjugate and. But you were wrong, right?
Oh yes. I was wrong. I was horrified to discover that her sex drive, far from being in abeyance, was…rampant. And yes, I did run away. Not openly, of course. There were good clini
cal reasons, my exchange with Dr. Kling of the Davos Avalon was always on the schedule. But deep inside I knew I was running away.
And she followed you.
She brought her niece and nephew out to Davos for a skiing holiday, yes.
How did you feel about that?
Shocked when she turned up at the clinic—a courtesy call, she termed it—but also somewhat reassured that she was still sufficiently in control of herself and sensitive enough to the opinions of others to have cloaked her visit under the guise of a vacation. She was not yet quite Vénus toute entière à sa proie attachée.
She weren’t going to jump you in public, you mean?
That’s it. She was very conscious of herself as Lady Denham of Sandytown Hall, the apex of the social pyramid in this neighborhood. She had needs that age had not diluted, I can confirm that. I suspect she must have satisfied them somehow, but it would be done with the greatest discretion. No, my attraction was social as much as sexual. She didn’t just want to ravish me, she wanted to marry me.
Oh aye. I’ve been there. The ravishing’s not so bad, but bugger the marrying!
That’s not quite how I saw it.
No. I understand. Tell me, Lest, just between mates, you said she had to be getting it somewhere, so what about you? Did you ever, tha knows, give her one?
Please! I really don’t care for the way you phrase that question…
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