The Unkindest Cut

by Gerald Hammond

  ‘That is exactly what I’m afraid of. You mean that she recognized her attacker.’

  ‘That’s what I mean. Or, hoping for the best, perhaps she thought that she recognized the robber but was wrong.’ While she spoke, Jane was one-handedly unwrapping the parcel of sandwiches that, not knowing when or where she might have the chance of a little lunch, she had brought with her that morning.

  Ian made a pained sound that needed no words. ‘That idea could open up several whole cans of worms. Would you happen to know whether she has a boyfriend?’

  ‘Only by guesswork. When I’m packing up or leaving for home I’ve sometimes seen a male figure, late teens or early twenties to judge from the way he carried himself, hovering on the pavement outside the jeweller’s shop.’ The kettle came to the boil. She poured a mug of coffee. ‘It could well have been a boyfriend waiting for her to come off duty. I’m sorry, Ian. If I’d known that he was going to figure in a crime case or if I’d thought that he was waiting for me I’d have paid more attention.’

  ‘You’re a respectable married woman now,’ Ian said. ‘You should put such thoughts out of your head. I can’t get hold of her landlady just now but she should know whether there’s a boyfriend.’

  The call finished. Jane went to work on her sandwiches. Only ten minutes later she was interrupted by the entry of a stout, white-haired woman in a white lambswool coat. She was unaccompanied by any pet, which was unusual for visitors to the surgery.

  ‘I’m Mrs Black,’ the woman announced.

  Jane was not always good at names and faces but she thought that she would remember Mrs Black because the name was so remarkably inappropriate.

  ‘You’re Miss Highsmith?’ the lady enquired.

  ‘I was,’ Jane said. ‘I’ve been Mrs Fox for the last few weeks but I haven’t had time to change the name on the door.’

  ‘I’ll send my man down, the morn. He’s a signwriter to trade. You know Helen Maple? I have two young ladies as lodgers and she’s one of them.’ Mrs Black was well spoken and her accent was very faint. She was respectably, rather than smartly, dressed, but Jane got the impression that she would not leave her bedroom until she was as neat as a shop window dummy.

  ‘I know Helen, but not very well. She comes and cleans for me.’

  ‘Is that right? She told me about the attack in the shop and being left tied up. She said that she had you to thank for not being left there all night. And she said that she’d asked for you to be with her when she makes a statement to the police today. So I thought I’d best let you know that there’s no sign of her this morning and her bed hadn’t been slept in.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of you,’ Jane said. ‘But I was just leaving to meet her at the police station when I had a call to say that she seemed to have vanished and that you weren’t at home either.’

  Mrs Black seemed flummoxed for a moment but soon recovered her poise. ‘Will you be seeing them? I’m supposed to be going to spend a few days with my sister in Coldstream. We’ve been at the shopping centre in Loanhead all morning. I’ve left food in the house for both of my charges but I dare say Maggie – the other girl – will get through it. I’ll be back on Wednesday, tell them. And this came for her this morning.’ There was a frenzied tooting from the Square. ‘That’s my sister now. I must run.’

  ‘Wait. Mr Fellowes wants most particularly to know if she has a boyfriend.’

  ‘She’s been seeing a boy. She’s soppy about him but I’ve never set eyes on him, except once when he rang the doorbell and I looked out of the lounge window. He was …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Very ordinary looking. I decided I wouldn’t have him if he came in a lucky bag.’ The tooting recurred. Mrs Black thrust an envelope into Jane’s hands and scuttled out of the door.

  Jane brushed away the crumbs from her lunch, washed her coffee mug and then picked up the phone. She caught Ian at his desk. ‘I’ve just had a visit from Helen’s landlady,’ she told him. ‘Helen’s been gone since yesterday evening.’

  ‘I knew that—’

  ‘Just hush a moment and listen. I can see my next patient coming across the Square. Helen’s landlady, Mrs Black, will be away for a few days but a letter came for Helen this morning.’

  ‘There may be an address—’

  ‘I said to hush. There’s one of those little stickers on a corner of it, the ones they give you a whole page of with a charity appeal so that you’ll feel obliged to send them some money. It’s from a Mrs Hemiston with an address in Morningside. It would give you a starting point.’

  ‘May I speak now? I’ll send somebody down for it.’

  ‘And Helen does have a boyfriend. She saw him once from a window. The landlady, I mean. She said that he looked very ordinary and she wouldn’t have him if he came with trading stamps. Next client just arriving,’ Jane finished hastily and disconnected.

  Minutes later she was giving her attention to a parrot with suspected psittacosis. The three-legged dog had lost its place in the queue. Well, it was a tough old world and the handicapped were usually left behind.

  FIFTEEN

  That evening, Ian made another one of his sudden appearances at Whinmount. Roland was out, conferring with Simon Parbitter, so Jane had the house and Ian to herself. Once again, Ian accepted a small whisky and a chair in the sitting room which was cheered by a log fire in the grate.

  ‘I opened that letter to Miss Maple,’ he began.

  Jane was mildly shocked. Forgetting for a moment the special responsibilities of the police she remembered instead the sanctity of other peoples’ mail. ‘Should you have?’

  ‘Yes, I should,’ Ian snapped. ‘She’s a witness and I have reason to believe that she’s holding back evidence concerning the identity of Knifeman.’

  ‘Sorry. You’re quite right. You’re taking this case very seriously, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I am. Once somebody starts using a weapon there’s no knowing where it will end. If it’s a firearm it may turn out to be a toy or a replica, or if it’s real there may be no ammunition for it. But a knife is a knife and it’s always ready for use. Some day somebody will provoke him, there will be blood and he’ll be on the down-slope. Yes, I’m taking this case very seriously indeed. So I opened the letter. To judge from the references to other relations, this Mrs Hemiston is her cousin and they seem to be on very good terms, but she’s moved recently and Directory Enquiries doesn’t have a new number for her. I thought of getting Edinburgh City Police to make contact, but then I changed my mind.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘You may well ask,’ Ian said, more lightly. ‘I’m not even quite sure, but I had a gut feeling that Helen Maple was very nervous. She felt vulnerable about something. She might have gone to visit her cousin in order to keep a low profile, as they say, and the arrival of a couple of large, strange coppers on the doorstep might be enough to put her to flight again. If that’s where she is, and I have little more to go on than inspired guesswork, I have nothing whatever to persuade Edinburgh to hold her on. So I phoned Honeypot – that’s Detective Superintendent Laird to you.’

  Jane had never taken kindly to being condescended to. ‘I do know Honeypot, thank you very much. She came here in connection with GG’s death and some other occasion, you may remember. And she’s gone back to using her maiden name because her husband also made superintendent, so she’s Superintendent Potterton to us mortals. Strictly speaking, Potterton-Phipps, but Deborah says that she got fed up at having such a long signature. What did you ask of her?’

  Ian had turned a little pink at being corrected on the subject of his own superior. ‘She had discreet enquiries made of neighbours and it was reported that a young lady arrived there yesterday evening and was not seen to leave. That’s as far as we’ve got so far.’

  Jane’s hackles began to stir. ‘And you are telling me this, why?’

  ‘Your surgery does not open on Saturday or Sunday—’

  ‘A vet’s surgery is never
closed. I’m on call all the time.’

  Ian pretended not to hear. ‘I don’t want her running off again. I’d like to send a female officer, one with a nice, soothing manner, to interview her with you going along for reassurance. Try to persuade her that it’s in her own best interest to speak out.’

  ‘If it is.’

  Ian adopted the voice most often used on squalling infants. ‘The longer she keeps a secret the more she’s endangering herself and possibly others. Will you keep that in mind?’

  ‘If I go.’

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I think you’ll go.’

  Jane wondered whether he was judging by her usual willingness to help the forces of law and order or by her growing curiosity. ‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ she said. ‘Luckily I’ve nothing booked for tomorrow that can’t wait a week. Do I get the police mileage rate? Presumably you won’t be sending us in a liveried police car or she’d be out of the back door and running before we reached the doorbell.’

  ‘Take your car. Your companion will fill the tank, on the police account.’

  ‘That’s acceptable, just. Who will it be?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Be ready to leave at six tomorrow morning. I’m sorry about the hour—’

  ‘A vet’s office is never closed.’

  ‘So you said. You forgive me, then. That’s good. I’ll have your company dropped on your doorstep. She’ll be fully briefed.’

  Roland grumbled until he realized that he would be free to stay in bed for as long as he liked and he could then count on being fed by Mrs Parbitter who had a soft spot for him. Jane left him dozing and was washing her breakfast dishes when the slam of a car door followed by a ring at the doorbell announced her visitor. She dried her hands and went to the door.

  Ian’s selection, or possibly the volunteer, was a young but motherly looking woman. In a pleasant Highland lilt, she introduced herself as Marie Webb, Constable – ‘Do call me Marie.’ She was wearing a nylon mackintosh over a tweed coat, which seemed to provide for whatever the weather might bring. Her shoes managed to combine comfort with at least a degree of smartness. She was carrying a briefcase which looked at first glance to be fat but light, suggesting that she had brought necessities in case of an overnight stay. Jane was glad that she had had the same forethought though she had no intention of staying away if it could possibly be avoided. She picked up the computer bag, left over from a laptop that she had outgrown and replaced a year earlier, which she always used for the same purpose; and they were ready.

  ‘A nice little car,’ Marie commented as Jane turned out of the byroad on to the B-road that descended into the town.

  Jane considered it a horrid little car and she had every intention of changing it now that there was some money in the bank. She needed a 4x4 in the winter. ‘Little being the important word,’ she said. ‘I do a fair mileage around the farms … and the shoots. Fuel consumption’s a major factor.’

  ‘It will be the same for me when I can afford a private car, if there still are private cars if and when that day dawns. At the moment I can only manage a motor scooter.’ For twenty miles they discussed the relative merits of the smaller cars. When they were halfway to Edinburgh, Marie said, ‘You’ve been having an exciting time.’

  ‘I’ve been having an exhausting time,’ Jane replied. ‘You knew that I was only married last month?’

  ‘I could hardly not know it. Your picture was all over the papers. And on telly, but not the news. Did you know that you were the answer to a question on a quiz show?’

  Jane tried very hard not to show surprise. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she said. ‘And don’t tell me any more; I’m trying to forget the whole ghastly episode. When you get married, be sure to have a spare wedding dress hanging behind the door. And being recently married isn’t why I’m exhausted, in case that’s what you’re thinking. I came back from my honeymoon to find that my locum had tackled all the easy work and left the rotten jobs for me to do. And then, on top, I find that I’m a witness again in the Knifeman case. I was his first victim and then I went and walked in on his fourth or fifth, I’ve lost count. All I need now is for a rock band to build a recording studio next door and keep me awake all night. Oh, and I’m pregnant, so I suppose that must add to the general exhaustion.’

  Marie laughed. ‘I’m told that it’s tough at the top. And congratulations, by the way. You’re looking very tidy,’ she added with a quick glance at Jane’s waistline.

  ‘If you think this is the top, you’re dreaming. And thank you, by the way …’

  Traffic was almost non-existent at the early hour. They were in Edinburgh before eight a.m. Jane had Satnav for her work so they found the right house very easily. It was dark and silent; small and neat, slotted into a gap between larger houses in a street of prim respectability.

  Jane tapped the Satnav. ‘According to this, there’s no back lane. If you ring the bell, I’ll watch the back door, just in case.’

  ‘Right.’

  Jane followed a path to a rear corner of the house. She heard the bell ring. There were footsteps and then voices. She hurried round again to the front. Marie was confronting a woman in a dressing gown. ‘This is Mrs Hemiston,’ she told Jane. ‘Cousin to Helen Maple. She tells me that Helen arrived here yesterday evening, cadged a meal, made a phone call and went away again.’

  Mrs Hemiston was older than her cousin and less friendly. ‘It’s the truth. You can search the place if you want. I’m going back to bed. Some of us work for a living.’

  ‘We both work for our livings,’ Marie said. ‘What number did she ring?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Can I come in and use last number redial?’

  ‘If you want. And a fat lot of good it’ll do you. I forgot, she phoned for a taxi after that.’

  ‘Which company?’

  ‘City Cabs. Leastways, that was the number I gave her.’

  ‘We may have to take you up on your offer to let us search,’ Marie said tiredly. ‘For the moment, go on back to bed.’

  Jane and Marie withdrew to the car. Marie used her mobile phone to call Ian Fellowes. He had left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed and the telephonist was more afraid of him than of Marie.

  ‘I don’t suppose he could get the address from City Cabs anyway,’ Marie said.

  ‘Leave this to me.’ Producing her own mobile phone, Jane found that Honeypot’s number was still programmed into it. She called the office and asked for Superintendent Potterton’s extension. ‘Tell her that Jane Highsmith is calling.’

  After only a few seconds, Honeypot came on the line. ‘Jane? How are you doing? But you’re not Jane Highsmith now, are you? You’re Jane Fox. I’ve been seeing your photograph in the papers.’

  Jane ground her teeth. ‘Will nobody ever allow me to forget the show that I made of myself? I was dealing with an injured puppy and it sprayed blood all over my wedding dress. Anyway, more to the point, I’m in Edinburgh just at the moment. Ian Fellowes invited me to find a witness who did a bunk so I’m here with one of his female officers. We were going to phone you as soon as we could count on you being at your desk.’

  ‘In other words, you want help.’ Honeypot was her usual perceptive self.

  ‘You read me like a book. This girl we’re after seems to have called on her cousin briefly and then phoned somebody else and called a taxi. We could hardly dash around your patch interrogating people,’ Jane said in tones of virtue. She had her fingers crossed. ‘And they probably wouldn’t tell us anything anyway.’

  ‘All right,’ said Honeypot. ‘You don’t fool me for a moment, but I still owe you a favour. Give me all the relevant phone numbers and your own mobile numbers and I’ll get somebody on to it straight away. I have a cadet who needs a little practice in kicking bums. Keep your phones switched on.’

  They disconnected. Marie’s eyes were popping. ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,’ Jane said complacently. ‘When she gets back to
us, you can take over. Then some day you’ll be able to remind her who you are. These contacts can count in your favour later.’

  There was an open café on a street corner and they went in for a second breakfast. Then they went back and sat in the car. ‘We ought to go back to Newton Lauder,’ Marie said. ‘These things take forever, especially at a weekend, and I’m sure Mr Fellowes has something useful for me to do.’

  ‘You’re probably doing something much more useful here,’ Jane said. As she spoke her mobile phone played its little tune. She answered the call, stated the name of the café they were sitting outside, then smiled and expressed great enthusiasm and words of thanks before replacing the phone back in her handbag.

  Marie swallowed nervously before asking what was going on. Jane smiled enigmatically but remained silent as she looked out of the car window.

  A minute later she exclaimed, ‘Ahhhh there she is,’ before leaping out of the car and rushing over to a woman who was in the process of elegantly unfolding long, shapely legs out of a sleek, top-of-the-range Mercedes. ‘Honeypot, how are you? So good of you to come in person,’ Jane was saying to the very beautiful sophisticated woman who was now walking with Jane towards the car where Marie was sitting transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of her.

  As they approached the little car, Marie forced herself out of her paralysis and nervously came out of the car to greet them. Marie had to stop herself from curtsying as if she was meeting royalty, as the superintendent was after all the most important policewoman or policeman that Marie was ever likely to meet, let alone talk to.

  ‘So sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding,’ Honeypot was saying, ‘but we had a rather important murder enquiry come up and I just couldn’t get away. Read all about it though – and saw some photos. Nice dress,’ she added with a teasing smile and a friendly punch of Jane’s arm.

  ‘Yes, yes, very funny,’ Jane replied, before getting down to the business at hand as she’d really had enough teasing on that particular subject to last a lifetime – even from old friends she was asking favours of. ‘So, any news on our disappearing witness?’