Whoever Has the Heart

by Jennie Melville

  I moved away to the bookcase where the bottles and glasses still rested just as they had that first day when Crick and David had helped me. It was obviously going to be their permanent home. ‘Let’s have a drink.’

  There was only one comfortable armchair among those I had bought and that fault would have to be remedied, but I had managed to choose some more cups and saucers from the Post Office, which seemed to stock everything. I pushed the hair back from my forehead and perched by the fire on the low, old-fashioned guard. It was a bit like sitting on a shooting stick but just bearable. ‘I must get some more chairs. You take that one.’ I poured him some whisky, but gave myself mineral water. I needed a clear mind and I knew I was tired enough for spirit to go straight to my head. I crouched by the fire, encouraging it to burn up with a poker.

  ‘I did feel guilty afterwards.’ The fire crackled and threw out some sparks. I extinguished them carefully on the oriental rug which had belonged to Mrs Armitage. ‘My work doesn’t usually cut across our relationship.’ What I did not say was: And yet yours does, frequently, and no questions asked.

  Perhaps it was allowed to men. I ceased to feel guilty.

  ‘You look thoughtful.’

  I studied my hands. ‘Yes. I can’t remake my life.’

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything like that. But I don’t think this village, this house, is good for you.’

  ‘Oh, that can’t be so, you are imagining it.’

  ‘Yes, it’s taking you over.’ He looked around. ‘It’ll need a fortune spending on it, this house. And I’ve never liked Brideswell, it’s a village with a strange feeling to it. And now the bits and pieces of that poor girl turning up here. You’re fascinated by it, too interested.’

  ‘It’s my job.’

  ‘I think it means more to you than that in this instance.’ I stared at him, wondering if it was true. ‘ It’s difficult not to get involved.’

  ‘I don’t like the Cremornes either, and I’m not sure about this young one. He’s not typical of them, Heaven knows.’

  ‘You needn’t be jealous.’

  ‘Is that what I am? I don’t think so … but you draw so far away sometimes.’

  I moved closer and dropped my head on to his knees, leaning against him. ‘I’m here now.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’m lonely sometimes,’ I said.

  The events of the night, happy as they were, solved nothing of our problems. I suppose the most you could say was that they took our minds off them.

  I woke early and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. The cat was asleep in her basket by the big stove. It seemed the natural place for a cat basket, warm and sheltered. The basket had almost walked there without outside help.

  Instead of jumping straight from her basket as she usually did, Muff stayed there. Not curled up in a comfortable ball but slightly extended, her paws stretched out, her eyes half open. They had a shuttered look.

  I knew at once that she was ill.

  I sat at the big kitchen table, a legacy from the late owner, drinking the hot coffee while I thought about Muff.

  When Humphrey came down the stairs and into the kitchen our eyes met in amused complicity. We might have our differences, we would always have them as far as I could see, but we liked each other.

  I poured some coffee and pushed it across. ‘I’m worried about the cat.’

  He got up at once, bending over, and stroking her head. I liked him more at that moment of tenderness than I ever had. ‘Better get the vet.’

  ‘I believe Tim Abbey’s van comes to the village today.’ It was Friday, one of the days when the white van parked itself down by the church.

  ‘Don’t wait for that. Get him to call. You don’t want to disturb the old lady.’ He gave Muff a last stroke and came back to his coffee. ‘I’ll make the call if you like.’

  ‘No, don’t worry, finish your breakfast. There’s toast and honey. That is, I haven’t made the toast, but …’

  ‘But I know how,’ he finished for me.

  ‘I’ll make the call.’ I got up. ‘I’d better get dressed. I’ll tell my secretary not to expect me this morning. She can deal with it.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘I ought to make some calls, if I may.’

  ‘Yes, do,’ I said with resignation, knowing full well that if things followed their usual pattern, then calls to Washington, Brussels, and Moscow would probably figure on my telephone bill. Humphrey seemed to manage local communication by telepathy while requiring constant expensive contact with overseas.

  Muff raised her head and spewed out a pale yellow vomit. Some of it spattered on Humphrey. I hurried to tidy Muff and the floor. Humphrey tried to help but I pushed him aside.

  ‘Go and have a bath. You smell terrible.’

  ‘I think some of your scent has rubbed off on me.’ He read something in my eyes. ‘I suppose I gave it you for Christmas.’

  I hesitated. ‘My birthday actually.’

  ‘I’ll do better another time.’

  ‘Try smelling it first and not going by the price on the bottle.’ He closed the bathroom door.

  I took a deep breath, then turned to get dressed. He had not given me the scent. Someone else had. I was turning out to be not a very nice person.

  Tim Abbey arrived before I was ready, while I was still brushing my hair, so that I had to run down the stairs to meet him, arriving flushed and out of breath.

  ‘Take it easy,’ he said, in a friendly way.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here. Come and take a look.’

  Muff had not moved, nor did she as he bent over her, but she looked at him with dull eyes.

  He examined her, looking in her mouth, and feeling her abdomen, which seemed distended. ‘ I’ll just take her temperature.’ Muff had never suffered this indignity before, her eyes widened a fraction as he held up her tail and inserted the thermometer, as if this was not quite what she had expected. ‘Yes, she has a bit of a fever.’

  He sat back on his heels while he considered the matter. Then he looked up at me with merry, cheerful blue eyes, the bluest I had ever seen. ‘Don’t look so worried, I think we can cure her.’ He searched in his bag producing a small phial into which he plunged a hypodermic. ‘I’ll just give an antibiotic and you can carry on with tablets. You can manage that, can you?’

  Muff did not flinch as the injection went into the loose skin but she gave me the look of one who will not suffer this too often. Then her paw flashed out and raked his hand.

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ I apologized for her.

  ‘Don’t worry, occupational hazard.’ He dabbed some iodine on his left hand which was already badly marked by an old scar.

  ‘Looks as if a puma got you there,’ I said, looking at one sickle-shaped scar.

  ‘A Peke. No one bites worse than a Peke. But don’t worry, I heal well and so will your feline.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, with relief. ‘What is it she has?’

  ‘Not sure. Some virus, I think.’

  ‘She’s had all her immunizations.’

  ‘There’s plenty to be picked up. And she’s come to a new district.’ He ran his hand over her. ‘ Come along, lady. Give us a purr.’

  He must charm his patients into recovery, I thought. Or he would if they were human, but perhaps animals didn’t respond to that sort of treatment. On the other hand, Muff looked brighter already.

  Witchcraft, I thought, wondering what Ellen Bean made of him. She didn’t like doctors, but how did she feel about veterinary surgeons? I could hear her saying: ‘ He’s just built a fine new animal clinic, can’t do that without a touch of magic.’

  And she might well find him attractive, I thought as I watched him rise to his feet in one lithe muscular movement. I knew my friends Birdie and Winifred held that a healthy interest in sex was to be encouraged. (‘I do, my dear, I do,’ Winifred had said, casting down her eyes, ‘one must practise what one preaches. The orgasm is a useful key to enlightenment
.’)

  He stood up. ‘Anyway, she looks comfortable enough there by the fire.’

  ‘It seemed the right place for a cat basket.’

  ‘Yes, it’s where Mrs Armitage’s cat slept. Old Tiger, nice cat.’

  ‘I didn’t know she had a cat.’

  ‘Yes.’ He sounded sad, as if he had minded. ‘I had to put him down just before she died.’

  ‘He was ill?’

  ‘Oh, yes, or I wouldn’t have done it.’

  ‘They were sick together?’

  ‘More or less the same symptoms, vomiting and so on,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Not from the same cause, of course. Probably just old age with Tiger. His kidneys were packing up. He’d been around a long time. Still, I was sorry to see him go.’

  He handed me a bottle of tablets. ‘ Two a day. And if you’re worried, call me.’ He packed away his bag.

  He was on the way out when the telephone rang. I hesitated. ‘Do answer it,’ he said. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

  ‘No, wait. I won’t be a minute. Hello?’

  A strange voice answered me. It sounded drunk. ‘Thomas Dryden here.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Dryden,’ I said in surprise. ‘ What is it?’

  ‘Like to see you. Speak to you.’

  ‘Really? What about?’ I asked cautiously. I wanted him to go on talking: I thought I recognized his voice, he could have been the caller who tried to put me off moving to the village.

  ‘Tell you when I see you. Tonight. I’ll come to the house.’ He put the telephone down with a bang.

  Tim Abbey looked at me and raised an eyebrow. ‘ Our village drunk. Don’t let him be a nuisance.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘He’s not a bad sort,’ said Abbey, thoughtfully.

  I saw him to the door, where he paused. ‘Don’t worry. I think your creature is going to be fine. I can’t be sure, but I think she may just have caught something and eaten it, and it doesn’t agree with her.’

  I looked back and met Muff’s mournful gaze. ‘ Just tummy ache?’

  I went to the stairs and called up. ‘You can come down now.’

  Humphrey descended the stairs. ‘Can I drive you in to Windsor?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay with Muff today. See how she is.’

  ‘You really love her.’

  ‘I don’t know about love. She needs looking after.’

  ‘And you don’t think you need a child.’

  I didn’t react, didn’t even change the expression on my face. It is so easy to hit someone even without meaning to when you know them very well; I didn’t want him to know he had hurt.

  But I had a response. Of a kind.

  ‘About the scent. You didn’t give it to me. Someone else did.’

  ‘I thought I couldn’t have done. I do smell what I give as a present.’

  ‘It didn’t mean anything. And anyway, he’s dead.’

  ‘Ah. Because of you?’

  ‘Yes, because of me, but not the way it sounds.’

  I tidied the house, I was getting to be quite a housewife. Then I went to the baker’s shop for a loaf and a bottle of milk.

  Inside I met Ellen Bean, who was buying a lardie cake, hot and steaming. Also, as I had discovered, exceedingly indigestible.

  ‘I see you had the vet?’

  ‘Yes, Muff wasn’t well.’

  ‘You’d have done better to call me in.’

  ‘He was good with Muff.’

  ‘Good with all animals.’ Ellen gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Might call him in myself next time I’ve got gut-ache.’

  ‘He certainly is remarkably handsome,’ I said in a neutral voice. I paid for my loaf and went to the door.

  ‘He’s got a lovely young girlfriend living with him,’ said Ellen. ‘You’ve met her, and I expect you’ll see her in the van. She does some of the driving. Lu, she’s called.’

  ‘I spoke to her.’ Now I had seen Tim Abbey I saw that they matched.

  ‘Don’t worry about your cat,’ said Ellen. ‘I saw her eating a bloody great rat … that’s what she’s got inside her. It’ll pass through. I’ll say the right words when I get home. Say them now if you like.’

  ‘No, leave it,’ I said hastily. ‘At home will do.’

  ‘Privacy is better, you wouldn’t expect me to be embarrassed with all my experience, but you do get some funny looks sometimes … She’s quite a hunter, your cat, I saw her at it. The ratling didn’t have a chance.’

  It was a relief to know that it was only indigestion, but it did summon up a picture of my cat Muff, wild in the grass. ‘Sounds dangerous,’ I said. ‘I wish she wouldn’t.’

  ‘I’ll send my cat to keep an eye on her.’

  ‘How will I know him, what’s he like?’

  ‘A big black bugger,’ said Ellen with gusto.

  ‘What’s he called?’

  ‘His village name is Blackie, but his devil name is Belial,’ she said with evident satisfaction.

  It was very hard to know if she was laughing at me or not.

  ‘Watch your step,’ she called after me.

  As I walked down the village street I observed that the press was there as well as the police. A big TV van had settled into position by the Red Dragon. So far no one had noticed me, but I was reasonably well known by now for someone in the media band to recognize me and I had no desire to be interviewed, quoted, misquoted, or photographed. I put my head down and moved towards my house. The Red Dragon would be out of bounds for me until the caravan moved on.

  Muff was still in her basket, she looked up at me. I stroked her head to be rewarded with a faint purr. She was coming back to life.

  I was surprised by a ring at the front door. I considered ignoring it, but even as I stood there in thought, the bell rang again.

  To my surprise it was Chief Superintendent Barney. ‘All right if I come in, ma’am?’ He was being carefully formal.

  I held the door wide. ‘Yes, of course. Anything I can do?’

  ‘Probably is, ma’am. Can we talk about it inside?’ He sounded gloomy. I had been told that he took things heavily and was not a man to laugh off a setback in an investigation. I didn’t dislike him for that. Murder is a serious business. ‘I’m afraid I was seen coming in.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘ Got me in the frame.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ I was resigned to publicity without welcoming it. I used it when I had to – in some cases you need help from the media – but otherwise I preferred anonymity. I drew up a chair by the window seat. I could keep an eye on the road from there and even see the encampment outside the Red Dragon.

  I was uncomfortably aware that I was wearing jeans and a sweater and that my hair was untidy, whereas Clive Barney, although looking tired and worried, was dressed with neatness and precision. His shoes shone.

  ‘I thought it would be best if we talked the investigation over together. I know you get the formal reports but I don’t want you to have the feeling that I am keeping you out of it when you are on the spot.’ He paused. ‘I know you’re taking an interest.’

  I nodded without saying anything. He knew about Rewley, then? Well, he would. No secrets in our business. There were matters we kept quiet about, of course, but very few of importance that were not known.

  ‘We aren’t getting anywhere. But I expect you knew that?’ He paused, waiting to see if I said anything and when I didn’t went on: ‘ We’ve run through everything and come out the other end with nothing.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘What I call everything. We had two prime men to focus on.’

  I nodded again.

  ‘As far as Dr Harlow is concerned … He looked likely but there’s nothing to lay our hands on. No evidence he knew her, nothing from forensics on his clothes or his house that connects him. And we’ve been thorough about that.’

  I knew the team would have been. ‘The car?’

  ‘Nothing there. We’re completely stalled.’

  I stood up. ‘Like some coffee? Or somethin
g stronger.’

  ‘Coffee, decaff if you’ve got it.’

  That fitted in too. He was reported to be an insomniac worrier, a perfectionist who got results but paid for it.

  From the kitchen I called: ‘What about the knife cuts, anything there?’

  He came and stood at the kitchen door. ‘A competent powerful chopping job, but no signs of skilled surgical knowledge. Not professional at all. But if it was the doctor you would expect him to take trouble to cover up.’ He accepted a cup of coffee, it was the full job, loaded with caffeine, but I didn’t tell him, it might cheer him up. ‘And if he did cut her up, he didn’t do it in his own backyard. No signs of blood in the bathroom or kitchen. Some in the surgery washplace, but that’s understandable, being what it is.’

  ‘Worth thinking about, though.’

  ‘Oh, I have, don’t you worry, we’re running checks on the blood groups, but I doubt if he could get away with much in the surgery with a nurse and receptionist like he has. Eagle eyed and miss nothing, both of them.’ He grinned, making his face suddenly look younger and more friendly. ‘They were able to tell me without any trouble that the doctor has a girl in Reading, a colleague he sleeps with twice a month in Oxford, and an ex-wife in Salisbury, and seems to be on good terms with all of them. And there are thought to be others.’

  ‘What about the teeth marks on parts of the body? Anything new?’

  ‘Still waiting for the special report. These things take time.’ He paused. ‘Nasty, though.’

  ‘Unpleasant,’ I said. ‘Have you checked on animals in the village?’

  He groaned. ‘This is the country: there are rats, dogs, ferrets, and God knows what else.’

  We both sat in silence for a moment, neither of us wanting to say another word about the tooth marks.

  ‘Coffee all right?’ I asked.

  ‘Fine, ma’am, you make a good cup. Could I have some more sugar? I know I shouldn’t but I can’t seem to manage without since I gave up smoking.’ His nose twitched reminiscently as if he could scent smoke and missed it. He was relaxing the formality. ‘I know you know Damiani,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘No secret there.’

  It was time to clear the air. ‘He is not a friend,’ I said firmly. ‘And I regard him as a prime suspect.’