To which Pal had replied, So let me know how it works out, then we can discuss a possible price cut.
It had worked out well and the knife box now adorned the Pascoe dining room. But though her friendship with Cressida burgeoned, the brother never became anything more than an antiques dealer with whom she was on first-name terms. As for the rest of the family, Ellie had picked up that there was a younger sister, and also that theyd lost their parents some time in childhood, but shed made no attempt to pry into the exact nature of the evident tensions and problems Cresss upbringing had left her with. This didnt mean she wasnt curious-hell, they were friends, werent they? And knowing your friends was even more important than knowing your enemies-but in Ellies book though mere curiosity might get you nebbing into the life of a stranger, it was never enough to justify sticking your nose into the affairs of a friend.
But if the confidences came unasked, she was not about to discourage them, particularly in a situation where they also served the useful function of postponing the threatened pounce.
Youre not worried? she said.
No. Hes probably still at work, giving discount.
Sorry?
Cressida grinned.
Well-heeled ladies love their objets dart but love their money even more. Pal says Id be amazed how many of them after a bout of haggling will say, Do you give a discount for cash, Mr Maciver? Or something?
I presume you didnt say this to your sister-in-law?
Thought about it, but in the end I just said if she was really worried she should ring the police and the hospitals.
Decided to go for reassurance then.
You neednt concern yourself about Sue-Lynn. Self-centred cow. Any worries shes got will be about herself, not Pal.
But his squash partner is worried too Jase, you said?
Jason Dunn. My brother-in-law, said Cressida, sounding rather surprised, as if shed just worked out the relationship.
So, married to your sister?
Yeah, Helen the child bride.
Lot younger than you then? said Ellie.
Shes younger than everyone, said Cress dismissively. Like Snow White. Doesnt get any older no matter how often you see the picture. Only this one still adores the wicked stepmother.
Stepmother? This was completely new. I didnt know you had a stepmother.
Not something I boast about. You dont want to hear all this crap. Havent you got that bottle open yet?
Sorry. Its this broken cork. This stepmother, is she really wicked?
Goes with the job, doesnt it? Shes a pain in the arse anyway. Youve probably seen her name in the papers. You wouldnt forget it. Kay Kafka, would you believe? Why do Yanks always have these crazy fucking names? Here, let me try.
She grabbed the bottle from Ellie and began poking at the broken cork.
Ellie, feeling that a gibe about names didnt come well from someone called Cressida who had a brother called Palinurus, was by now sufficiently interested in the family background to have pursued it even without its pounce-postponing potential.
So you dont care for your stepmother? And Pal?
Hates her guts.
But Helen took to her?
She was only a kid when Dad remarried. It was easy for Kay to sink her talons in. Me and Pal were older, our shells had toughened up.
And when your father died when was that?
Ten years ago. Pal was of age so out of it. I was seventeen so officially still in need of a responsible adult to care over me. I was determined it wasnt going to be Kay even if it meant signing up with dotty old Vinnie till I made eighteen.
Vinnie?
My aunt Lavinia. Dads only sister. Mad as a hatter; you need feathers and a beak before shell even speak to you. But being a blood relative did the trick and I was able to give Kay the finger.
But Helen thought different?
Dont think thought entered into it. She was only nine. Pal and I tried to get her out of the clutches, but she went all hysterical at the idea of being separated from Kay. Poor little cow. Not much upstairs, and Im sure Kay preferred it that way. Shes a real control freak. Probably hand-picked Helens husband with that in mind too.
Sorry?
Jason. Hes a PE teacher at Weavers, so not what youd call an intellectual giant. But a real hunk. And hung. Known as a bit of a stud before Helen hooked him. They say he fucks like a Rossini overture.
This was an interesting concept but not one that Ellie, in her present antaphrodisiac mode, felt it wise to pursue.
So Helens stayed close to her stepmother? Which means you and Pal arent all that close to Helen?
Cressida shrugged.
She made her choice.
But Pal plays squash with Jason?
Yes, he does, said Cressida. Cant think why, especially as Im sure Jase must whup the shit out of him and Pals not a good loser. Still theres nowt so queer as folks, is there? And most of us are even queerer than we think.
She gave Ellie what could only be described as a suggestive leer, then said, Fuck this, and drove the broken segment of cork down into the bottle, squirting wine over her hand and forearm.
She raised her fingers to her mouth and licked the red drops off, her eyes fixed on Ellie and a tiny smile twitching her lips.
More ways of popping a reluctant cork than one, eh? she said. Pass your glass.
6
Moscow House was full of light, which the shuttered and curtained windows kept penned within. Only through the open front door did any escape to offer a weak challenge to the besieging fog.
Finding the electricity switched on had been a big bonus, particularly for Jennison, but he still stuck close to his partner as they went methodically through the downstairs rooms, then headed upstairs.
Hello hello hello, said Maycock as he pushed open a bedroom door to reveal a double bed, neatly made up, though not with fresh linen. This looks like its still in use.
Yeah. Hey, do you think some of the girls might have been using this place to bring their punters?
Could be. Maycock sniffed the air. Smell a bit sexy to you?
Jennison sniffed.
Nah, he said. Think its thy haddock.
There was only one door they couldnt open.
Some of Jennisons uneasiness returned. In haunted houses there was always one door that was locked, and when you opened it
Maycock was kneeling down.
Keys in the lock on the inside, he said.
Jennison said hopefully, Maybe one of the girls heard us come in and shes locked herself in here.
Could be.
Maycock banged his fist against the solid oak panel and called, Its the police. If theres anyone in there, come on out.
Jennison stepped back in alarm, recalling tales of vampires and such creatures who could only join humankind if invited.
Nothing happened.
Maycock stooped to the keyhole again. Once more he sniffed.
More sex? said Jennison.
Bit of a burnt smell.
You think theres a fire in there?
No. Not strong enough. Listen.
He pressed his ear to the door.
Can you hear something?
What?
Sort of whirring, scratching noise.
Scratching? said Jennison unhappily, his imagination reviewing a range of possibilities, none of them comforting.
Yeah. Here, give it a try with your shoulder.
Obediently, Jennison leaned against the door and heaved.
Jesus, you couldnt open a paper bag like that.
You try then. Didnt I hear you once had a trial for Bradford? Or were that a trial at Bradford for masquerading as a rugby player?
Provoked, Maycock hit the door with all his strength and bounced back nursing his shoulder.
No go, he said. Bolted as well as locked, Id say.
Better call this in, said Jennison.
He spoke into his personal radio, gave details of the situation, was told to wait.
Yeah. Here, give it a try with your shoulder.
Obediently, Jennison leaned against the door and heaved.
Jesus, you couldnt open a paper bag like that.
You try then. Didnt I hear you once had a trial for Bradford? Or were that a trial at Bradford for masquerading as a rugby player?
Provoked, Maycock hit the door with all his strength and bounced back nursing his shoulder.
No go, he said. Bolted as well as locked, Id say.
Better call this in, said Jennison.
He spoke into his personal radio, gave details of the situation, was told to wait.
They went to the head of the stairs and sat down.
Not one of my best ideas, this, admitted Maycock. Wed have been better off eating our nosh outside the chippie, and bugger Bonkers.
Jennison surreptitiously crossed himself and wished he had some garlic. He knew that at times of psychic stress it was a dangerous thing to name evil spirits as that could easily summon them up. So it came as a shock but no surprise when out of the air came a familiar voice, saying, So there you are, making yourselves comfortable. OK, whats going off here? And why does your car smell like a chip-shop?
They peered into the hallway and found themselves gazing down at the slim athletic figure of Sergeant Bonnick whod just come through the open door.
They scrambled to their feet but were saved from having to answer by the radio.
Keyholder to Moscow House is a Mr Maciver, first name Palinurus. Just say if you need that spelt, Joker. Weve rung the number given and got hold of Mrs Maciver. She got a bit agitated when we told her we wanted to talk to her husband about Moscow House. She says she doesnt know where he is, in fact nobody seems to know where he is, and hes missed some kind of appointment this evening. Ive passed this on to Mr Ireland. Hold on. Hes here.
Ireland was the duty inspector.
Alan, youre sure theres a key on the inside of that locked door?
Certain, sir.
Then I think from the sound of it you ought to take a look inside. You need assistance to break in?
Bonnick spoke into his radio.
Sergeant Bonnick here, sir. No need. Ive got a ram in my boot. Ill get back to you soon as were in.
He tossed his keys to Jennison, who set off down the stairs.
Be prepared, eh, Sarge? said Maycock. Good idea carrying everything you might need around with you.
Not always, else youd be towing a mobile chippie, said Bonnick. Show me this locked room.
He examined the door carefully and stooped to check through the keyhole.
Keys still there, he said.
Well, it would be, said Maycock. Seeing as I just saw it.
Not necessarily. Not if theres someone in there to take it out, said Bonnick.
We did shout.
Oh well then, they were bound to answer, said the sergeant. God, when did you last take some serious exercise?