‘I will not have you—’
‘Getting involved? I know. But there’s this Dennis they’ve mentioned. The kiddywinky, apparently. Quite frankly, I’m not happy that he should be with such a person, even though he’s his father.’
‘You surely can’t be thinking—’
‘Oh, but I am. I am.’
She shook my elbow in alarm. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she demanded.
‘No. No, I assure you.’
‘You can’t intervene in a domestic dispute, Richard. You’ve told me that.’
‘That’s police rules, Amelia, love. I’m not in the police now. Even if I was, I could intervene if requested. Now...don’t you think the young lady—Helen Pierce, her name is—don’t you think she’d ask me to intervene? If only to fetch the lad away from his father. It’d probably help no end with her recovery, if she knew the lad was away from the sort of man her blasted, rotten husband appears to be? As it stands now, she’ll be worried to death.’
‘But what...what can you do—what can we do with a little lad? Take him home with us? That’d be kidnapping.’
‘No. We can’t do that. But...take one step at a time. Depending on how the mother progresses.’
‘Take her home with us, you mean?’
‘Why not? If there’s nothing else. She and the little lad, however old he may be.’
‘And...Mary?’
‘She’d love him. And Sheba and Jake would love this spaniel, here. Name of Bruce, by the way.’
‘You live in a dream world, Richard. Fantasies.’
I had to ignore that. It was only too true. ‘Here we are. Careful how you jump up,’ I said.
‘How long since I told you I love you?’ she asked abruptly.
‘Ages. Last night.’
‘I meant, in words.’
‘Ages.’
She smiled. I couldn’t understand why.
We stood beside the boat. ‘I haven’t really taken a good look at it,’ Amelia said.
‘Looks smart, doesn’t it? Colin told me it’s his.’
‘Is it really? A thing like this---they must be very expensive. I can’t imagine how he’d be able to afford it, if the only payment he gets is the free tenancy of the lodge.’
‘He gets tips, he told me. People he helps through with their boats, through his precious flight.’ Yet as I said it I realized it would take a lot of tips to buy this vessel. A lot of years of tipping. Or perhaps, as he used it to travel on the canal on his employers’ behalf, they had bought it for him.
The dog was pulling, his collar nearly choking him, so I let him go. He went like an arrow for that open door, clearing the prow with one bound from the tow-path. I paused to offer Amelia a hand, and heaved her aboard. Bruce was hunting up and down for his vanished mistress.
Now, with the chill of the water still in the metal hull, the boat seemed colder than the outside air. I looked round, and there was a small Calor gas fire. I traced the tubing back to the cylinder, and picked it up. As I didn’t know how heavy it was when empty, its weight didn’t tell me how full it might be. There was no sloshing sound of liquid from inside. How long had they been without heat? There was a spare cylinder in a cupboard, but there had been no one to connect it up.
I was looking round for a water supply. Logic told me it ought to be high, and there it was, to one side of the hull, and it had a tap. I tried it, Bruce’s metal dish beneath it. Yes, there was water. But how long had it been since Helen had been capable of reaching it? When I put Bruce’s metal dish beneath the tap, it rattled against it. My hands were unsteady, shaking with anger.
Water came, and filled the dish. I put it down and Bruce slopped at it noisily. He had access to the canal, but this was clear water. We ventured further inside. Here, in the kitchen area, there was a heater, one small ring to accommodate a kettle or a saucepan. The tube to this disappeared into the rear of a cupboard beneath. I tried the tap, and got a hissing noise. ‘Ah,’ I said, and turned it off while I hunted out my lighter. Then I lit the ring.
‘No point in that is there, Richard?’
‘Well...yes. See if there’s any dog food, love. Ah...ah, yes. This is what I was hoping for.’
In the next compartment, perched on a table top, there was a large plastic carrier bag, packed with food supplies. Now, this explained…
I cut that thought off abruptly.
‘What is it, Richard?’ Amelia can almost read my mind. Certainly, my emotions.
‘A theory gone up the spout, that’s all. I was talking to Ted Slater about the intriguing way Clare’s car had been left. It was her car, by the way. And there was the strange fact that it’d been left there in the lane, with the keys in. I explained it to myself by thinking it might be like that if the driver had been lifting out something heavy, and then shut the door with a hip. Well...wouldn’t it?’
She was staring at me, and shook her head. ‘I suppose so.’ Contradicting the shake. ‘Are you going to open that tin, or not?’
I reached out and hunted in a drawer, found a tin-opener, and also the bunch of keys for the boat. I popped the keys in my pocket, and opened the can. This released its smell, and Bruce went wild. But I had to take the chill off it, so I sloshed a drop of water into a saucepan and tipped in the contents of the can.
‘Spoon?’ I asked.
Amelia found one, and put it into my hand. Like a surgeon, I felt. I chopped at the solid mass, then I stirred it to stop it getting burnt. At the first sign of steam, I turned the lot into Bruce’s metal dish, and barely got it to the floor before he pounced on it. Slop, slop, slop...and it had gone.
‘The poor little devil’s starving,’ I said.
‘Yes. He was. Now...what were you saying?’ She was busy tidying up the blankets and towels and the rest from beneath our feet.
‘Oh yes—why the car door wasn’t locked. I thought it meant that Clare could’ve been lifting out a heavy weight, something bulky, so that when I saw that bag of groceries, I assumed that explained it. But it doesn’t, does it?’
Bruce was whining for a repeat performance, but I didn’t want to make him sick, and took no notice.
‘Why doesn’t the bag of groceries explain the unlocked door?’ Amelia asked patiently.
‘Because it would be a natural action to put the heavy weight on the ground, and then shut the car up and lock it. And this is a plastic bag, so it would come to no harm, being put down on wet ground. A cardboard box, now, she wouldn’t have been able to put down. D’you get my point? The bottom would drop out, if it got wet.’
‘Ah...I see. So you’re getting nowhere.’ Her eyes were bright as she pursed her lips at me. Teasing me again.
‘No. Yes. I don’t know where I’m getting. And I bet this bag’s been here for days. Four or five. Even then, Helen Pierce must’ve been ill. Would her sister have left her like that? Just left a bag of groceries—and left?’
‘You’re asking me for guesses, Richard.’
‘Yes. Sorry. But Colin’s said he’s been here every day. And he didn’t think she was very ill. Not really ill. She’d been knocked around a bit before she even got here.’
‘So?’ She was frowning deeply. I was bringing it too close to her.
But all I could offer her was still no more than guesses.
‘I’d say that Clare came, about five-thirty yesterday evening. She brought...something. I don’t know. Perhaps that carrier bag of grocery. But certainly, Helen hadn’t been beaten up so badly at that time. Couldn’t have been, or Clare—a policewoman would’ve got an ambulance. They were sisters. Surely she’d have done that much.’
‘Sisters, Richard, often hate each other.’
‘So I’ve heard, my love. But in that case, Clare wouldn’t have helped her at all. Yet we know she did.’
‘Do we, Richard?’ Amelia was watching me with a gentle smile. ‘We don’t really know what she did for her sister.’
‘I just can’t understand her,’ I admitted. ‘Helpi
ng her sister out, and yet I was coming round to thinking of her as completely self-centred, and an unfeeling bitch into the bargain.’
‘Richard!’
‘The only word that seems to fit.’ But damn it, Clare was beginning to sound like a vastly complex person, a strange and possibly violent mixture of strong emotions.
Amelia was silent for a few moments, then shuddered. ‘Can we get away from here, Richard? And...look what I’ve found!’
She was holding up a small denim jacket, such as a child might wear. She had found it amongst the tossed blankets she’d been tidying. There was no need for words. Dennis had been here.
She was again silent for a few moments and shuddered. ‘Can we get out of here, Richard?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, yes. Of course. But we’ll take whatever dog food there is.’
There were four more tins. I now had reason to bless the multiple commodious pockets in the coat. Amelia watched me slipping them away. ‘And why are you wearing that silly woollen hat, Richard?’
I snatched it off. ‘I’d completely forgotten it. I must’ve looked a right fool in it.’
‘Not’, she assured me, ‘if everyone thought you always went round like that.’
Trying to work out the logic in that statement, I thrust it into my pocket and carefully locked up, taking the metal dish with us.
‘And why d’you need that?’ she asked.
‘Well...it might just be possible to persuade everybody that it’s not a terrible thing to have an animal in the house, but you’d never persuade them to let him eat off their crockery.’
‘You think of everything, Richard.’ I could only wish she was correct.
So we walked into the bar lounge with the dog on his lead (my string), and me in my new coat, bulging strangely in unusual places.
They were all there. I managed to divest myself of the coat, and Amelia of Colin’s duffle coat, before we were introduced.
The ladies were Victoria and Alexandra, the former a tiny old dear with a face much crinkled from too much laughter, it seemed, because she laughed at me frankly, having observed my previous discomfort. Alexandra was more severe, possibly the younger of the two ladies, but her eyes were kind and forgiving, her hand soft and intimate. The eldest, the tall, thin streak of a man, was Adolphus, grave, kindly and courteous, a man who would have difficulty thinking ill of anyone. He would not know how to deal with men like Arnold Pierce. From the names, I guessed the family had always revered the Royal Family.
‘Oh, what a darling!’ cried Mellie, swooping on Bruce, crouching to him, and allowing him to explore her face with his tongue.
‘I do not approve of animals in the house,’ observed Gerald distantly. ‘And you shouldn’t let him lick your face, Mellie.’
I glanced at him, and realized with a shock that he was simply afraid of dogs. So I turned to where Colin was sitting, to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t worried about animals. He was clearly worried about himself, as he had had time to explain to his employers what had been going on here, and they had clearly not approved. A death in one of their locks was a terrible thing to have to contemplate. That it was possibly not a straightforward accident, but murder, must have shaken them to the core of their delicate respectability.
And I was just about to inflict on them another unpleasantness. I doubted whether Colin had told them the full details of Helen Pierce’s illness. He would surely have played it down. But all the same, I asked him, ‘May I use your phone, Colin?’ And now they would hear for themselves.
‘Of course.’ But he frowned.
I went round the back of the counter. As there was a clean and empty glass there, and an opened bottle within reach, I poured myself a drink. It was, I realized, vodka. Not much taste, but a hell of a stimulant, which was what I needed. In the directory, I found the hospital’s number, got them, and asked for Admissions.
When I got them on the line, there was some difficulty. They had admitted a woman without a name or address. She had been unable to tell them. Mid-twenties. I agreed she could be the one I was interested in. Was I the husband? No—I was just the one who’d found her. But I knew her name now. Helen Pierce. Address? Sorry, I didn’t know. A lie, that was, because I did. I wanted to get there before the police made any enquiries. Injuries: abrasions and bruises and a cracked rib, a broken wrist—pneumonia, possibly. Yes, I agreed. That was her, and could I come along and see her? This afternoon? Hold the line a minute, sir, and I’ll put you through to the Intensive Care unit. Which was done. Sister Morris—can I help you? She could, but we had to go through, once more, the business of my having no direct relationship with her patient. But could I come, anyway? Seeing that I was the one who’d found her. Later this afternoon, was the concession, and then she would decide whether she was fit to be seen. I thanked her, and hung up, looked around, and there were eyes centred on me from all directions.
Then the old gentleman, Adolphus, spoke on behalf of himself and his two sisters.
‘You haven’t mentioned this, Colin. I think we ought to have a chat about it...’ He fished out from his waistcoat pocket a half-hunter, flicked open the cover, and frowned at it. ‘After lunch.’
Ruby accepted this for what it was—a signal. She rose to her feet and said, ‘I’m afraid it will be no more than cold meats and salad, but it will not take long to get ready. If you intend to stay the night...did you bring overnight things?’
Adolphus unfolded himself to his full height. ‘Indeed we did, Ruby. One has to be prepared for eventualities, and it does seem to me that those eventualities have put in an appearance. Thank you, we will stay. And pray...do not forget that we have Jenkins with us.’
‘Of course you have Jenkins,’ said Ruby, laughing. ‘How would you get around without him?’ Then, realizing that this was not a vastly polite comment, she added, ‘I meant in the car, of course.’
They filtered out into the hall, and Victoria placed a hand gently on Ruby’s arm. ‘Adolphus is always blaming himself for not having learned to drive a car, but I do feel he’s a little old to take it up now.’
The voices faded off into the distance. When I turned round I saw that we were now alone, except for Colin. He caught my eye, glanced away, then deliberately captured me with a grimace of distress.
‘A right mess you’ve landed me in, I must say,’ he said, advancing on me.
‘Me? I’m doing no more than trying to tidy up after you. No...don’t go away, Colin.’ I held up a hand to restrain him. He glared at it. ‘Things that’ve got to be said.’
‘Not now. Not now, damn it.’
I took his arm and led him to a table in the corner. It was Slater’s favourite table, it seemed, though he was not there now, but one of the large glass ashtrays was full of his stubbed-out cigarettes. Amelia came to sit with us.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Facts, Colin. Dates and things. How long had Helen Pierce been here, living on your boat?’
He flicked a hand angrily. ‘A week or so. I told you that.’
‘And during that time you haven’t been going along to visit her, to see how she was managing?’
He flinched at that, flinched at the realization that he could have done more. ‘Several times. You know. Taking fresh gas cylinders—that sort of thing.’
‘That sort of thing? Not food or the like?’
‘She was all right for food and stuff. Clare was bringing that.’
‘Clare was...’
‘Pretty well every day.’
‘And neither of you realized Helen had been beaten up, and was very ill? Seriously ill, Colin.’
‘It got me worried.’ He looked away, darting glances around as though spies might be lurking in the shadows.
‘Only worried?’
‘She wasn’t seriously ill. Not at that time. It’s all changed overnight. So I wasn’t worried then. You know.’
‘I do not know,’ I said patiently, quietly. Very quietly, because of the effort required not to shout it in his face.
‘My father...’
‘Your father? What the hell’s he got to do with it?’
He spoke heavily, his teeth nearly clenched. ‘You don’t think he’d have let it go on...’
‘I would think not. He would have sent for a doctor—at least.’
‘Of course,’ Amelia agreed.
‘And arranged for Helen to be sent home?’ Colin spoke with heavily restrained anger. ‘To that violent brute of a husband of hers. Arnold. Bloody Arnold.’ He made a strange noise in his throat—a burst of disgust. ‘Christ! Don’t you understand my father yet? It wouldn’t be right to do anything else. Right! What’d been right about it before? But you can imagine...hell, I hear him in my dreams. There’s a word for it. Ponti-something.’
‘Pontificating,’ Amelia put in softly. Her eyes had not deviated from his face.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he agreed. ‘He’d have sprayed us with his law, the rights of the husband, the sanctity of marriage! All the bloody piffling laws we’d broken, assisting a woman to hide away from her husband. The sacred embrace of matrimony! Jesus, we’d have been bowled over with it, and the stupid bugger would’ve insisted we ought to take her back. Her and the dog. Of course we couldn’t let him get one hint of Helen living here, on the boat. Oh yes...and don’t look like that. It would be “here” to him. My boat—and only just round the bend along the tow-path.’
‘How lucky for her, then, that I happened to step inside your boat and find out what was in there,’ I commented. I was having difficulty in making my voice sound right.
‘Lucky!’
‘Do you never think of anybody but yourself, Colin?’
‘I lent her the boat. You know that. So I’d get all the backlash. Probably will.’
‘But had you got any sympathy for Helen—any feelings at all?’
He gave a grunt of protest and slapped a palm on the table. ‘I did what I bloody-well could. Don’t you understand! I love her and I want her to marry me.’
I sighed. I had to suppose that he’d been somewhat restricted in his options.
‘And finally,’ I said, ‘the husband—that Arnold—he realized that Clare probably knew where his wife was hiding. He’d only have to follow her, in his car.’
Stone Cold Dead Page 14