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45
45
"What do you propose to do now," Sandra asked when Helena Locke had left.
"I just need to sit and think for a few minutes,"
"Do you need me?" Sandra asked.
"Not at the moment," I answered. "You can stay if you wish, but if you have alternative plans?"
"I need to get back to the police station," she replied.
"Well, I may slip over to the Three Horseshoes and play a few frames of billiards. I'm sure Graham and Ian will be there, tonight."
"Enjoy yourself, win or lose."
I found my mates in the pub, and we played for several hours. After twelve midnight, when I got back, I found Sandra convening on a heap of pillows in the middle of the room.
I said hello, and she became aware of me for the first time. "I'm sorry. I didn't even realise you were there. I've been deep in thought, positioned here with my eyes closed."
"Have you come to any decisions?" I asked.
"No," she said, "have you?"
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IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 46
"How much did you tell the Commissioner of Police?" I asked. "Janet Mason is in a very delicate position," Sandra said, "so I am cautious." "I realised as much," I said, "and that's why I asked." "I reminded her of the times she and her cohorts at Scotland Yard had messed things up and wanted me to save their skins. Not all the time, mind you, we only had the whole twenty-four hours. And I couldn't use the whole time chatting. In fact, I used up most of the time listening to her. Janet is not as happy at work as she once was, and not as indispensable, either. Once upon a time, the fact that she had no job title and no job description worked in her favour and she could make herself helpful in lots of ways, and in places, and there was no political restriction against any of them. She knew everybody and everything, and everyone came to him when they needed a bit of extra thinking done. Now, all her original team are gone, everything is compartmentalised, and sh
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 47
"It is, of course, possible," I said, "that I have something wrong, or several things wrong. But I think the chain is strong enough to survive a test." "How can you test it?" Sandra asked. "Hopefully, but it'll have to wait until the Commissioner of Police visits next Tuesday." "How did you know she'll be visiting?" Sandra asked. "Pretty obvious really," I said, "you were literally beside yourself when you came back, and I suspect she will be bringing somebody with her." "If he can be convinced that it is in his interest to come." "I thought as much," I said, "Let's hope he does, eh?" "How do you know that our guest will be a man?" "Because it can only be one person, and that person is a man." "Right then," Sandra said brightly, "what do we do now?" "Well, I've got another blood test for my anaemia first thing in the morning, so why don't we see if we can get into see a show up the West End?" Her
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 48
48 How long I hung there before Sandra screamed God only knows. But it had the right effect, as I held on with desperation, the performance immediately stopped, the lights went on, and the audience looked away from the stage and up towards me. My assailant had gone, but that didn't make the situation any easier. I hung on for dear life as theatre staff members came to my assistance, two male programme sellers pulling me to safety. I didn't stop to thank them, but I did ask them which way the assailant went. I gave chase, heading for the exit, taking the curving downward staircase to the door that led to the street. Out into the night, the crowds made finding my attacker almost impossible, but when I saw in the distance a man running in the direction of Charing Cross, I gave chase. He was twenty yards ahead of me, but I kept running, getting closer with every stride. Despite my age, I was reasonably fit, and I kept going. He dis
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 49
49 I ran. I was racing a train, trying to catch up with it. Hearing the slow-motion noise, grinding mechanical feedback underpinned by the terror growing within. One dirty red carriage after another rolls in, doors all set to open and inhale platform. Life is anything but stationary once the underground is entered. The crowded platform was a microcosm of every waiting room in the world, taking away the walls, the track, the metal benches, and it could be any waiting room for anything anywhere, anyplace. Passengers on the train looked at me as I weaved through the packed platform. Trying to reach the same carriage, my target was waiting to board. The train stopped. Give me a chance. The doors opened. The target waited by the doors of the first carriage. I ran down the platform, my feet hitting the concrete hard, sending shockwaves right up to my brain. My lungs heaved like the air was acidic, and every part of me felt like it would break if I didn't st
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 50
50 After tidying up, I went methodically around the flat, drawing curtains, checking windows, and locking and bolting all the doors. I even managed to fix the front door. "What are you doing?" Sandra asked, looking tired in the kitchen. "Pulling up the drawbridge." "Oh." Despite the hassle of tidying up the horrific mess, she seemed a great deal more focused and in command of herself, and when I had finished securing the entire flat, she said, "The police will want a list of what's gone. I will help you make it." "Thanks." We started on the dining room add made reasonable progress, with me putting the empty drawers back in the sideboard while trying to remember what each had once contained and Sandra writing down my dictation. I had been given a significant amount of cutlery and china over the years. A warmth for anything that belonged to my parents. My pleasure in owning it seemed to have vanished with the goods. Instead of be
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 51
51 After DI Brooks left, I closed all the drapery, turned on the lights, and sat in a comfy chair to read. "Aren't we going to alter the venue for this evening's events?" Sandra asked. "This is now a crime scene." "If we change it, our suspect will get suspicious." "Very well," Sandra shrugged, and this was followed by a rigorous knocking on the door. "That will be Hector and his mate," I said, standing up to respond to the thumping. But when I opened it, I discovered I was looking at a worn-down old lady. "Good afternoon," she said, in a rumbling and oddly recognisable voice. "Come on in, Stewart. Meet Quintus Noone and DI Burton." We observed an old man waddle into the flat, lugging an overnight case over which he was bowed in understandable distress. The old lady shut the door and removed her coat and then her wig, disclosing the recognisable face of Hector Nelson. "Hello, DCI Burton," he said. "It's a joy to see you
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 52
52 When we had all finished eating, Sandra brought a tray of coffee. I invited the two policemen to relax on the settee, and we all paid the detective chief inspector kindly accolades as she cleared the table. "I almost forgot to tell you, Mr. Noone," Nelson said, "and it may not even matter. But a couple of interesting details came to my attention, and I would be remiss if I failed to share them." “Please do.” "We have continuously supposed that there are two unexplained couples involved in this case," said Nelson, "but that might not be true, sir." "Why’s that?" "One couple," Nelson said, "the so-called Mediterranean couple, were purportedly buzzed into Tina's residence by a neighbour, apparently after asserting to have a key to Tina’s flat. Detectives are clearly fascinated by the Mediterranean couple, and police artists have even created e-fits of them. The other couple met Tina Davis several times at the
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD 53
"Very well," said the Home Secretary. I sat in an armchair and scrutinised intently at our visitor opposite. "I can begin with the particulars of the tableau. Even though no exact reason of death has been proven, our study has left no misgiving in my mind that Tina Davis was assassinated." "Really!" exclaimed the Home Secretary. "Oh, no! She was the victim of a very strange kinky sex game gone wrong, wasn't she?" "That is not true. The state of the flat and that of her corpse propose an alternative justification completely." "I did not know," said the Home Secretary. "No, I you didn't. There is a great deal of misperception about what happened." "A resentful paramour?" the Home Secretary suggested. "No, definitely not. Offences of lust are generally chaotic; the wrongdoer gets flustered and consigns a profusion of proof. In this case, the lack of scientific verification, among other things, advocates planning." "Fuck me
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