Missing: Presumed Dead
Page 36
Bliss cupped his wine glass in his hands and peered meditatively over the rim. “Can you imagine how much red tape you would have to cut to change military records more than fifty years old? It could take forever to get the Army eggheads to admit they sent the wrong man home. The chances are that, on paper at least, Major Rupert Dauntsey will outlive us all.”
“Jonathon stole the pig,” piped up Samantha, still determined to pin something on him, though her tone suggested it was an academic exercise.
“But where’s the evidence?”
“You ate it,” she laughed. “But you’ve got his confession. He confessed to killing his father.”
Bliss threw up his hands in mock horror. “No more confessions, please. I can’t take any more confessions. I will never believe another confession as long as I’m on the job.”
“He was actually telling truth ...” started Samantha, but he cut her off shaking his head.
“You mean he would have been telling the truth if Captain Tippen had been Major Dauntsey, and if Major Dauntsey had been his father.”
“Complicated, isn’t it?” muttered Daphne concentrating on the escargot.
“Anyway. Whoever he confessed to killing, he obviously didn’t believe it at the time. It must have come as quite a shock when he looked into the turret room this afternoon and it all came back to him.”
“What did the psychiatrist say?” asked Daphne.
“Selective amnesia, amongst other things. In fact I reckon he could retire on this case. I can imagine him touring the country with Jonathon standing in the wings. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, kindly allow me to introduce the world’s most screwed up man.’”
“Talk about a dysfunctional family,” mused Samantha. “No wonder Jonathon’s weird.”
What had Doreen said about the power of the dead over the living? thought Bliss, recalling that Tippen had kept her trapped for over fifty years. And what about Jonathon? He must have known in the back of his mind that he’d killed the man who had abused him – the man he thought was his father. “The whole thing is a saga of death,” he said, looking slowly from Samantha to Daphne and speaking of life in general. “Dead people, dead relationships and dead animals ...” He paused, almost daring anyone to mention the stuffed goat, preparing to scream, then added. “It was so horrific that Jonathon’s mind just shut it out.”
“I don’t blame him, I think I’d shut out something like that,” said Samantha.
The main course arrived. Poached wild salmon on a concasse of oyster mushrooms with a creamy dill sauce.
“Absolutely superb,” they agreed.
“It must be Mavis Longbottom’s night off,” muttered Daphne maliciously.
Bliss leaned into her and whispered consolingly. “Don’t worry, Daphne. The food here isn’t a patch on yours.”
She looked up, beaming. “Actually, Dave, I was meaning to speak to you about that. Now I’ve decided to give up my job I’ll have more time on my hands and I was thinking of taking in a paying guest. I was wondering if you’d be interested – all home cooked food of course.”
“That’s very tempting ...” he began, but Samantha reached across the table, took his hand tenderly and looked deep into his eyes. “That’s very nice of you to offer, Daphne, but he’s coming to live with me. Aren’t you, Dave?”
The End