Damned by Logic (17 page)

‘Yes.'

‘Then he won't be long gone. You'd better come on in and wait.'

‘I won't bother him for a second longer than I have to,' Belinda assured the protective cleaner as she entered through the front door. ‘And come to that, it'll maybe bother me as much as him.'

Mrs Kelton looked curiously at Belinda.

‘I've come to admit I made a mistake.'

‘Which ain't the easiest thing to do!' She showed Belinda into the sitting room. ‘I'll be away shortly. I've prepared a cold meal for him, seeing as I can't stay to cook because I must see Sophie's all right. Her mum and dad are out for the day.'

They heard a car door slam shut.

‘That'll be him. I'll tell him about his grub on my way out.' Mrs Kelton left the room.

Judge an employer by how an employee speaks about him, Belinda thought.

There was a murmur of voices. Ansell entered. ‘You've nothing better to do so you're here to ask more questions.' The anger was evident both in his tone and on his face. Their disbelief of his innocence in Eileen's death, his sense of loss and of guilt at not being able to prevent Melanie's appalling murder, all angered and unnerved him. And now the police wouldn't leave him alone.

‘No, I've no questions.'

‘Why then?'

‘To apologize.'

‘For what?'

‘Being pretentiously pompous.'

‘I don't think we're on the same wavelength.' Ansell looked thoroughly confused and rather weary.

‘When we were at Mary's party, I suggested you were very ill-mannered to try to discuss certain matters at a party.'

‘You were right. And that I tried to do so was more than ill-mannered, it was inexcusable. The apology is due from me.'

‘Can we call it quits?'

‘With pleasure. Now, the questions?'

‘None.'

‘Are you here merely to make an unnecessary apology?'

‘Yes.'

‘Are you on duty?'

There was the briefest pause. ‘No.'

‘Then would you like a drink?'

‘I would.'

‘I can't think why we're still standing. Please sit. I can offer gin, whisky, rum, Cinzano, sweet or bitter, and lager.'

‘A sweet Cinzano please.'

‘Ice?'

‘Just a little.'

‘Shan't be a moment.' He left.

She sat on the settee and faced a gilded overmantel mirror. Her hair was not exactly neat, she suddenly noticed; she should not have left the car window half open. She smoothed it down with her fingers. The collar of her blouse was not lying well on the jacket lapel; she straightened it.

He returned, handed her a glass, raised his. ‘Salud!'

‘Sante.'

They both smiled.

He crossed to the easy chair next to hers, sat. ‘At the party, you must have decided I was a real ...' He stopped abruptly, before continuing, ‘Just caught the word in time!'

‘No cause for concern. There isn't a four-letter one I don't hear every day.'

‘It would have been a seven-letter word,' he countered with another smile.

‘You have me temporarily guessing.' She smiled back.

They chatted; at first to break any silence, then with interest.

After more easy chatting, she looked at her watch, surprised that she'd been there so long. ‘I must move.'

‘Why the hurry when you're not on duty?'

‘I have to meet someone.'

‘You're sure you haven't time for another one?'

‘Quite sure, thanks all the same, Mr Ansell.'

‘Would you like to try David? Please?'

They went into the hall, then out to her car in front of the garage. He opened the driver's door for her. She hoped she did not appear surprised. None of her colleagues would have considered such a courtesy – she wanted to be considered equal, she could bloody well open her own car door.

He watched her drive away. She was one of those who were trying to dredge up evidence to send him to jail for crimes he had not committed, yet he had behaved as if she were an invited guest.

On her return to divisional HQ, Belinda went down to the canteen. She wasn't hungry, but needed time to try to find answers before she reported back to the bosses. The civilian worker served her sausages, very little mash at her request, beans, and jelly without a dollop of whipped cream.

She carried the tray across to a table and sat, too troubled to have noted she had sat herself down opposite Frick.

‘Thought you must have lost your way coming back,' he said.

‘He was out and I had to wait for him to return.'

‘How did you make out?'

She put a piece of sausage into her mouth.

‘Well?' he asked impatiently.

She tapped her cheek.

‘If you finish before midnight, report upstairs.' He left.

Twenty minutes later, she had just sat at her desk when Thorn entered. ‘What's got the sarge bellyaching?'

‘Probably because I annoyed him.'

‘You insisted it was your leg and not the table's he was stroking?' Thorn laughed out loud at his – as far as he was concerned – very funny joke.

‘Do you ever think of anything but sex?'

‘Only when I have to. What have you cocked up this time?'

‘He doesn't know it yet, but I felt sorry for someone.'

‘No good offering that as an excuse since it's an emotion unknown to sergeants.'

‘I suppose I have to see him and get it over with.'

‘Say “no” and you'll be able to wear white at your wedding without blushing.'

‘If I'm not back inside ten minutes, come along and tell me I'm urgently wanted on the phone in here.'

She left, went into Frick's room.

‘How much have you learned?' he asked before she had sat down.

‘Nothing relevant.'

‘Why not?'

‘I didn't ask questions because he was so down in the dumps,' Belinda admitted.

Frick's voice rose. ‘Now I've heard the lot! Down in the dumps? He was shit-scared because we're closing in on him and that was the time to wrench the truth out of him. But you ... you had to feel sorry for him and let him off the hook. You know what the guv'nor's going to do? Transfer you to a social unit so you can console every teenage yob who's frightened because he's stabbed someone for not giving him enough respect.'

‘You don't understand ...'

‘Too right, I don't. Get out and find something to do that you can't cock up.'

He followed her, turned into the DI's office. Glover looked up from the papers on his desk on which he had been working.

‘Constable Draper has returned from meeting Ansell, sir.'

‘Has she learned anything useful?'

‘She didn't question him.'

Glover leaned back in his chair. ‘Did she give a reason or leave us to guess?'

‘As far as I can make out,' Frick continued, ‘she thought he was too emotionally disturbed to be worried by more questioning. As I've always said, she's not for the job. After all, that's not so difficult to understand. One can't expect a woman to take an emotionally detached view—'

‘There's no need to itemize. You've made your opinion of female officers well known.'

‘A man would have questioned Ansell even if he looked like he was ready for suicide. Knowing he was in a state, she should have realized he was more likely to crack.'

‘She may have thought there was more to be gained by long-term sympathy rather than immediate pressure.'

‘She won't have thought that far.'

‘We'll move on. I want a check on the finances of Ansell and the wife.'

‘But ...'

‘They're questions the CPS may throw at us and we need to be ready to provide answers or look slack. Does either have hefty capital and/or a private income? Did she have a life assurance policy? Has he been spending heavily, possibly on tarts or the horses? Did she have a toy boy who needed encouraging with handfuls of tenners?'

‘Hardly likely. From all accounts, she was cold enough to depress a bulling male.'

‘All accounts can be all wrong.' Glover returned to the papers on his desk and Frick was summarily discharged.

Back in his office, Frick called for Belinda.

He watched her enter. His wife had met her once at a divisional dance and announced her to be attractive, lively and fun. That was unusual. His wife's judgement had generally been more reliable than his own. ‘What are you doing now?'

‘Nothing much.'

‘Why not?'

‘You told me to find something to do that wasn't important.'

‘Are you trying to be smart?'

‘Just obeying orders.'

‘Like questioning Ansell?'

‘I've tried to explain. I judged that because of his state, there was more point in showing understanding now since that might make him more responsive later.'

‘Are you going to tell me that's your idea?'

‘Who else's?'

‘You're to find out what the Ansells' financial circumstances were and are.'

‘Why?'

‘You are incapable of accepting an order without querying it?'

‘I'm just asking the reason so I can judge how best to carry it out.'

‘You do that by questioning whatever bank, solicitor, and accountant he uses.'

‘Today's Sunday.'

She had not before heard him swear quite so expansively.

B
elinda was awakened by a shout up the stairs from her mother. Once again, her alarm had failed to sound because she had not switched it on. She hurriedly washed and dressed. As she made her way downstairs, the smell of egg and bacon cooking became strong. ‘Sorry, but I just haven't time to eat,' she said, as she stepped into the kitchen.

‘Nonsense!'

‘I won't get to the station on time.'

‘Then you'll be late.' Mrs Draper's manner, the progenitor of her daughter's, was always direct and ready to deny the supposed authority of authority. ‘A cooked breakfast is the basis of good health.'

‘And of excess weight.'

‘Eggs and bacon are no more fattening than a slice of bread and butter.'

‘If only!'

‘The coffee's been through the filter so will you pour a couple of cups while I dish up.'

‘Where's himself? In bed?'

‘And probably snoring.'

‘You shouldn't get up before you have to, just to cook my breakfast.'

‘The prophet of self-decision is telling me what to do?'

Belinda smiled, brought two mugs out of one cupboard, teaspoons from a second, sugar from a third and milk from the refrigerator. She filled the mugs, carried them over to the small table in the corner, sat. She buttered one of the slices of toast from the silver-plated rack.

‘There was a phone call for you when you were out last evening. Sorry, I forgot to tell you when you returned.'

‘Who was it?'

‘Peter.'

‘Why the hell can't he understand that as it's over he really shouldn't call me all the time.'

‘He made me wonder if it could be worth finding out if you two could live together again.'

‘We couldn't.'

‘A pity.'

‘When you never really liked him?'

‘Just a little too much self-confidence. Marriage can soon take care of that.'

‘For you, it's a case of better a cocky son-in-law than none?'

‘Marriage has its advantages.'

‘For the male. Sex has to be on tap however one feels, cooked meals on demand, never a single word of recrimination when there's mud all over the newly-cleaned floor.'

‘I hope you're just trying to be awkward.' Mrs Draper passed across the plate on which were egg on a slice of bread, and bacon. She sat opposite Belinda. ‘Living here with two ageing parents must be boring.'

‘A haven of calm after the chaos of work.'

‘Hasn't any young man appeared to offer a more varied existence?'

‘No.'

‘Spoken very emphatically. Are all men temporarily off the screen or is there someone in the background?'

‘Can't you stop going on about my non-existent love life?' She regretted her words. ‘Sorry, Mother. I'm sounding like a bitch.'

‘Not a description I would use.'

‘Of course not since you haven't moved with the times. And I'm out of kilter because of a case.'

‘Are you allowed to identify what that is?'

‘In part, probably, the poor woman who was brutally tortured, carved up, and dumped in woods last month.'

‘It's horrific to realize there are people who will commit such crimes. Is anyone suspected or shouldn't I ask?'

‘As yet, not for that crime. But the case may be connected with another one in which someone is very much suspected, but ...'

‘But?'

‘I can't believe he could be guilty.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because of the person he is. I'd swear he'd never so much as strike a woman let alone kill his wife by threatening to strangle her.'

‘Haven't you told me when I say a photo of someone in the papers shows he's crooked, that appearance and apparent character are no guide to what a person is really like?' Belinda's mother asked perhaps sensing there was more to it than Belinda was letting on here.

‘Normally, they're not, but ...'

‘You reckon occasionally they can be. Eat up, dear, or everything will be cold.'

Belinda put a dusting of salt on the egg, speared the yolk with a fork and spread it, then ate.

‘You've always said the inspector is level-headed, so does he listen to what you have to say?'

‘When it agrees with what he thinks. The fact is, almost all the evidence stacks up against David and the motto of the CID is that only facts count, suppositions don't. Yet if he did threaten her to try to make her tell him what he was so desperate to know and it seemed about to become violent, I'll never trust my instincts again.'