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Authors: Elizabeth Darrell

Indian Summer (27 page)

BOOK: Indian Summer
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Max imagined the scene as she continued with a confession she clearly regarded as a triumph.

‘I started to follow him, but he suddenly gave a queer kind of howl, dropped the can and staggered around clutching his throat.' She gave a reminiscent smile. ‘It was quite a sight, believe me. Eyes bulging, tongue hanging out as he fought for breath, and a look of sheer terror on the bastard's face.' Her smile broadened. ‘He gradually sank to the floor, gurgling and clawing at his throat. A wonderfully spectacular way to end his life, and I had a grandstand view.'

Returning from that memorable vision, Mel's shining eyes fixed on Max once again. ‘Of course, I had no idea what had caused what I thought was some kind of epileptic fit and, when the pleasure of what I'd witnessed faded, I realized I'd been robbed of my need to avenge Fabio's murder.' She paused as if relishing the moment. ‘It was then I saw that I could still make an unmistakable statement with Keane's body.'

‘So you sought the aid of the man who might have become your brother-in-law,' said Max.

‘Poor besotted Gabbi! I knew he'd do what I wanted, but I had to wait until midnight and I was due to take part in the next joust within twenty minutes. I removed Keane's robe and hung it on the bathroom door. Then I collected his loose change, wallet, keys and mobile, backed my car up to the empty garage and thrust him into the boot until I needed him again.'

Tom then challenged her, his voice and manner betraying his anger at her callous description of a man's tragic death so immediately after fighting for his country.

‘You're admitting that you deliberately coerced Sergeant Gabriel Cruz into being an accessory to your failure to report a death, and to further mistreat the dead body of a fellow soldier?'

Mel's eyes flashed. ‘Keane had murdered Gabbi's
brother
, for God's sake.'

‘You keep using the word
murder
, Lieutenant Dunstan, but the facts are that the
SAS
team was wearing Arab dress and lack of intelligence that others were operating in the same area led to a case of
death by misadventure
. Keane was not to blame for what happened.'

Her face suffused with vivid colour. ‘
Not to blame
! He robbed a vital, clever and wonderful man of the rest of his life, and he robbed me of the possibility of ever being happy again. I wanted, I
needed
, to take his life so that I could at least find some kind of peace with Fabio's spirit. Watching Keane die that way wasn't enough.'

Max thought it time to bring the interview back on track. ‘So you simulated asphyxiation in the water tank with that synthetic creature Fabio's brother had made.'

Mel gave a malicious smile. ‘Have you managed to work out why?'

Max had discovered the answer to that last night. ‘Because that purple-hued jellyfish is commonly known as a Portuguese Man O' War.'

Tom was clearing outstanding paperwork before going off on leave when Max returned from his in-depth meeting with the Garrison Commander, Colonel Trelawney. He got to his feet and suggested coffee.

‘Later,' said Max. ‘I'm afraid it's much as we feared. Despite her admission of intent to kill, she was in no way responsible for Keane's death. There's no evidence for a theory that she forced him to swallow the beer in that can. All she can be charged with is failure to report a death, and for wasting police time by putting the body in the tank in an attitude that suggested murder. Her fingerprints prove she was on the platform.'

Tom was disgusted. ‘An entire SIB Section working flat out on the case! Pity you didn't discover that about the jellyfish at the start, as you were so sure it should be telling us something.'

Max met that with a faint smile. ‘It wouldn't have meant anything at that stage, Tom. The pity is that I didn't see that night patrol in Iraq as the key to the case earlier than I did. Without the info Jim Collingwood supplied we might never have discovered who had done what she did with the body.'

‘Meanwhile, we were chasing up clowns and knights, and searching for the enigmatic Brenda,' he said heavily. ‘So what's the verdict regarding Mel Dunstan?'

Max sat and leaned back in the swivel chair facing Tom. ‘The GC has ruled that she remain suspended from duty and confined to her quarters pending an appearance before a medical board to determine whether she has fully recovered from her mental breakdown. Whatever the outcome of that, her career is irrevocably damaged.'

‘She
hasn't
recovered,' declared Tom. ‘Her attitude and behaviour during the interview was almost creepy. She's away in fairyland. Finding peace with Fabio's spirit!' he quoted dismissively. ‘So her lover was killed in a warzone; so are hundreds of men. Their women have to cope with their loss. I've no time for beyond the grave stuff.'

Max regarded him with interest. ‘You don't believe in an afterlife?'

‘Sure I do. It's in the hearts and minds of all those who knew and remember you with affection. Any suggestion of getting through to the
other side
is dreamed up by manipulative charlatans.'

‘Thousands wouldn't agree with you.'

‘That's their choice but, in my opinion, they're very unhappy people. Like Mel Dunstan.' He changed direction. ‘What's the decision on Gabriel Cruz?'

‘He can be charged with wasting police time during an investigation into the death of a soldier on this base. Failure to report it is questionable in his case, because the body was placed prominently in that tank; no question of trying to hide it. In view of the fact that he was infatuated with the Dunstan woman, Trelawney thinks Cruz should just be disciplined and posted to another RE Section. It could be argued by a sharp defence that he had simply obeyed an order from an officer, and there's no argument against that.'

Tom sighed. ‘So the case that began as a huge bubble has burst to leave no more than a somewhat slimy residue.'

‘Cheer up. It taxed our ingenuity and kept us on our toes.'

‘Yeah,' he replied sourly, ‘and we learned a lot about the danger of bees in beer cans.'

‘Keane's parents will find that easier to accept than his murder by a colleague. To me, the saddest aspect of the case is that two children were orphaned by a garden insect and an impulsive experiment with drugs.'

‘Speaking of that,' said Tom, ‘I'm just concluding my report on the findings of our pals in the Met. After consulting Customs and Excise, they ruled out the trafficking of drugs by the Walpole brothers during their regular cross-channel road journeys.'

‘So we were wrong on that?'

Tom smiled. ‘Oh, no. That pair of bully boys sent the stuff to Starr by post. Who would be suspicious of beauty preparations mailed to a sister unable to obtain them out here? They'll go down for a long time.'

Max wagged his head. ‘Another nail in Gloria's coffin for any hope of adopting her grandchildren. You know, Tom, it's the loose ends left by cases we deal with that often bother me. That woman has lost her daughter, her daughter's children and both her sons in the space of two weeks.'

‘Even her husband walked out on her.'

‘Now there's a woman who would be justified in having a breakdown, but Gloria Walpole will soldier on because she's made of sterner stuff than Mel Dunstan.' Max paused thoughtfully. ‘Do you appreciate how fortunate you are? Understanding wife and three loving daughters. Oh, and I gather there's soon to be another member of the family.'

Tom stared in disbelief. Nora would never have given him that news. How could he possibly know? There was only one other person, but surely she would not have been so unprofessional as to betray a patient's confidential details . . . unless it was pillow talk!

Max quizzed him on his reaction. ‘Not a secret, is it? I saw the tiny mutt when I spoke to Corporal Timmins at the kennels just now. Taking little bitch. He said she's been given the name
Strudel
.'

Tom laughed at his own misunderstanding. ‘You should get one. A companion for long, lonely evenings.' After a pause, he asked, ‘Is the break with Captain Cordwell final?'

‘Yes.' It was brief and invited no further discussion on the subject. ‘As it happens, I've decided to get a companion far noisier but more exciting than a puppy. As you know, my favourite film in my collection of war stories is
The Great Escape
, with Steve McQueen's fabulous motorcycle chase. I'm going to get one and go cross-country scrambling. By the time you return from leave, I'll be up and running.'

‘Sounds great. Let's drink to that.' Tom stood and headed for the kettle and coffee jar, telling himself Max would never find a new woman that way.

Max noticed there had been further improvements to the flats when he arrived around mid-morning. The landlord was continuing his efforts to smarten his property, after which he would doubtless increase the rents. Faint sounds of a baby crying told Max his call was not in vain. Sudden silence heralded a response to his knock. Brenda opened the door with Micky Keane held against her shoulder.

‘Oh,' she said, clearly taken by surprise. ‘I didn't expect it to be you.'

‘If it's inconvenient I can come back later,' he offered, realizing how little he knew about babies' routines. ‘I should have telephoned.'

‘No. Come in. It's just that I didn't think there'd be any further contact with you.' She walked to the room where Philip Keane's desert picture hung on the wall, leaving Max to close the door and follow.

‘I hope I'm not interrupting something vital with the baby.'

‘No. I've just fed him and induced a hearty burp. He should settle for sleep now.' She lowered the contented infant into the old-fashioned rocking cradle and, watching her, Max found it impossible to superimpose the image of Livya. Why had he ever imagined she was this type of woman?

‘Oh, please sit down,' said Brenda, straightening and turning to face him.

‘This is just a brief visit to tell you something that I hope might make things a little easier for you to accept.'

‘But you've time for a cup of coffee? I'm ready for one, and it would be nice to have company while drinking it.'

‘Thank you. Coffee would be welcome.'

‘How d'you like it?' she asked, walking through to her kitchen.

‘Black, no sugar.' He crossed to the cradle where Micky was faintly whimpering, and began to rock it, feeling a shaft of sadness for the man who would never see his child grow.

‘Are you a father?'

He turned in surprise at her re-entry. ‘No, I'm a widower.'

‘So we have something in common.' She put the tray on the table, then joined him beside the cradle where he told her about the true cause of her lover's death. When he had finished, she gazed thoughtfully at her son for a while before looking at Max with misty eyes.

‘I've always believed our lives are mapped out for us at birth. When Flip wrote to tell me he had married Starr I should have accepted that our futures weren't meant to run alongside each other. I lied to you, Captain Rydal. I didn't accidentally discover the
RCR
were stationed nearby. I came here with the express purpose of stealing him from his wife. Fate, in the guise of a bee, made it certain we wouldn't have a life together.'

Max found her reasoning applicable to his own hopes of marriage with Livya. He had stubbornly refused to recognize the truth.

‘You'll have a future with Micky,' he pointed out. Then, before he knew it he added, ‘When my wife was killed in a road accident she was pregnant with our son.'

Her hand rested on his arm in sympathy. ‘A double blow!'

It was more than half an hour later that Max took his leave of this single mother who was a nurse, and had been a military medic. Brenda walked with him to the door.

‘Thank you for coming in person to give me the comforting fact that poor Flip wasn't murdered. I appreciate the gesture, Max.'

He could not help asking, ‘What will you do now?'

‘I'll stay until my contract runs out. I've made friends here and it's better for Micky to have stability for the first year or so of his life.'

Max nodded and offered his hand. ‘Well, goodbye, and good luck with your plans for the future.'

As he walked away she called softly, ‘Micky and I enjoy having visitors, so any time you're passing . . .'

Max waved a hand in acknowledgement and began to descend the steps. The motorcycle he was now on his way to collect was principally for the thrills and spills of cross-country scrambling, but there was no reason why it should not take him along this road now and then.

BOOK: Indian Summer
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