Damned by Logic (12 page)

B
elinda walked into the CID general room, spoke to DC Pascall who was writing up some reports on his computer. ‘D'you know if the guv'nor's in?'

‘Do I not!'

‘Is he beginning to ignite?'

‘In flames. It took me longer to do some work than he reckoned it should and he all but consigned me to the beat.'

‘What's cropped up?'

‘The PM on Mrs Ansell can't be carried out yet and we can't get hold of the husband.'

‘Then I suppose I'd better don asbestos before reporting.'

‘Everything else is delayed, so wait until he's cooled.'

‘And give him the chance to fire up again?'

She went along to the DI's room. The door was ajar so she walked in. ‘Just back, guv.'

‘About time.'

‘It's been a bit of a job getting Barbara Morley to talk in-between drinks.'

‘Well?'

‘Mr Ansell has been on a cruise.'

‘So?'

‘Aboard the
Helios
.'

Glover showed no surprise. Was she supposed to think that he already knew that? She continued, ‘On-board, he met a woman whom Barbara reckons kept him from being lonely at night.'

Glover fidgeted with a pencil. ‘If Melanie Caine was in the diamond racket and Ansell was the man aboard who looked at her as if he'd just discovered sex ... Phone the hotel and find out if Ansell has turned up yet.'

‘They promised to get in touch with us the moment he did.'

‘Would it disturb you to do as I ask right now?'

Belinda took her cue and left his office. Ten minutes later, she gained slight satisfaction in reporting that Ansell had not returned to the hotel and the staff would have been in touch with her, as requested, had he done so.

As DC Trent had learned, life often kicked one in the nuts. Because he was on night duty, Alan – until now a so-called friend – had seized the chance to ask Christine out for a meal. What on earth had induced her to accept an invitation from a man who preferred cider to real ale, enjoyed poetry, visited art galleries and wasn't afraid to admit he liked studying birds? He'd asked Christine how could any man waste time watching birds. ‘Isn't that your favourite occupation?' she'd replied tartly.

Trent's bleak thoughts were interrupted by the phone.

‘Park Hotel. You've twice asked us to inform you when Mr Ansell returned. He has just done so.'

Trent rang Glover's home.

His wife answered.'Yes?'

‘Constable Trent, Mrs Glover.'

‘What d'you want?'

Like the wives of officers of senior rank in the armed forces, she assumed their curt authority. ‘May I speak to the inspector, please?'

‘Is that necessary?'

Of course, he was only ringing for the fun of it. ‘I'm afraid so.'

‘He is very tired, so be as brief as possible.'

He hoped Christine would demand to be driven home straight after the meal and not accept a suggestion that they drove down to the coast and watched the lights of passing ships as Alan demonstrated superior intellect by babbling about rusty British coasters with salty funnels.

‘Yes?' Glover said as a challenge, not a greeting.

‘I've been phoned by Park Hotel, sir. Mr Ansell has just returned there.'

‘Anything else to report?'

‘No, guv.'

‘Keep it that way.'

PC Brownley walked up to the reception desk at Park Hotel, explained he wanted to give Mr Ansell a message to prevent the clerk's imagination moving into overdrive. ‘Wanted to give' was the ultimate hypocrisy, he thought bitterly.

Moments later, Ansell walked out of the lift, crossed to the reception desk, was directed to where Brownley was waiting. He came to a stop. ‘You want a word? What about?'

‘Perhaps we might go up to your room, sir, and I'll explain.'

‘Why can't you tell me now?'

‘I would prefer to speak to you when we were on our own, sir.'

Ansell's mind ranged over the possibilities which could cause a PC to come to the hotel, failed to approach the truth. ‘Very well.'

The lift took them up to the fourth floor, an electronic card gave access to the room.

‘What's the problem?' Ansell asked sharply.

Brownley spoke nervously, certain that the memory of Ansell's shock and grief would haunt him for days, cause him to look at his wife and perversely visualize the pain of learning she was dead. ‘I am sorry, Mr Ansell, I have to give you some tragic news.'

‘Yes, I know. What's happened to her?' he asked harshly, concerned because of Melanie's telephone call, the frantic demand he return Georgie immediately, the horror in her voice when he had said the monkey was burned, and then the way in which the call had been abruptly terminated. He had recently been living with the certainty that she had been in grave danger.

‘What's happened to her?' he asked harshly, convinced of the identity of whom they were speaking.

‘I am very much afraid your wife has died, sir.'

‘My wife?' Ansell repeated, his confusion obvious.

‘You do understand what I have just said, Mr Ansell?' PC Brownley, his own confusion considerable, felt he needed to reiterate the gravity of the situation.

‘Yes.'

‘You will understand you should return home as soon as possible.'

Ansell again said nothing.

Brownley's confusion became suspicion.

The pathologist finished dictating into a recorder, asked the SOCOs if there were any further examinations they required; there was none. He turned away from the table on which Eileen Ansell's body lay, indicated to the mortuary assistant to reconstruct it so it could be viewed by the husband or relative to confirm identity.

He spoke to Glover. ‘Can't offer you much, Jim.' The use of Christian names between pathologist and senior detective had become quite common. ‘There are no signs of trauma, asphyxiation, or indication of disease. With regard to the marks on the neck which were noted, these have become virtually imperceptible. The tissues below provided inconclusive evidence. In my opinion, fingers may have been applied to the neck, but only briefly and without much force.'

‘She wasn't throttled?'

‘No.'

‘Then what did she die from?'

‘The negatives offer the possibility of overwhelming fear that she was about to be throttled and she suffered from vagal inhibition. A victim in fear of personal injury may suddenly die; there are several reports of a prostitute gripped by the neck, going out in a flash.'

‘Can you say that that's what was the cause of death?'

‘No.'

‘Then your report is going to state what?'

‘That because of the facts, I can only surmise, not give a firm conclusion.' The pathologist shrugged his shoulders as he gave what he knew was an unwelcome decision for Glover – indeed for any investigating officer of an unexplained death.

Glover hurried from his car, into divisional HQ, and up to his office. Through no fault of his, he was late. Strict time-keeping by all was one of his demands. As he sat at his desk, Frick entered.

‘Morning, sir. PC Brownley has been trying to ring you from Oxford.'

‘Trying to ring you' made it obvious his delay had been noted. Frick had a solid nature, accepting criticism without notable resentment or praise with clear pride, yet occasionally he slyly made his thoughts evident.

‘I suggested you phoned him back, sir, so that he made his report directly to you. The number is on your desk.'

‘You did not find out if his report was going to be of any use?'

‘He seemed to think it was rather important, but did sound slightly confused.'

‘And you're leaving me to sort out his confusion. Have you drawn up today's calendar?'

‘On the desk.'

‘Any movement in naming who's been flashing around the green in Esley Common?'

‘Not so far. It's like my first inspector used to say, one can't make bricks without clay.'

‘The Romans made concrete from volcanic ash.'

‘Very ingenious people.'

As Frick left, Glover picked up the receiver of the outside phone, dialled the number he had been given. He asked to speak to Constable Brownley.

‘Inspector Arnold here, inspector. Brownley is off duty, but has left me with his report. If you'll give me your number, I'll fax it to you.'

He thanked the other, replaced the phone, studied the list of current and pending cases and the officers expected to be called to court. More men away from direct duty.

He was brought the fax. He read it once, then again. He stared through the window. Brownley had been surprised by Ansell's manner. He had not been nearly as shocked as was to be expected. No tears, no mind-shattered cry to be told it wasn't true. ‘Yes, I know'. Had he steeled his emotions because a friend had already informed him his wife had died? Yet how could such a friend have had the opportunity to do so before Ansell left the hotel in the morning and from which he had been absent until now? Brownley named him bewildered, but not showing the signs of bitter grief which one would expect. It was hardly surprising Brownley had seemed confused. He lacked the knowledge of the background to the case and could only judge by experience.

Glover let his imagination roam. The phone rang. Glover ignored it as he recalled Barbara Morley's muddled phone conversation from which Belinda had gained reason to believe Ansell had enjoyed an affair on the
Helios
. Hellan, the bar steward, had mentioned a man who, when drinking at the bar with Melanie, was mentally rogering her. Asked to describe the man, Hellan had failed to do so to any effect. But if her partner had been Ansell, he might have assumed Brownley's warning of tragic news could briefly have made him think the subject was Melanie ...

The phone rang. He once again ignored it.

Ansell's home in Bracken Lane had been secured since the finding of his wife's body. It would be unusual if there were not a photograph of him somewhere about the house. That photograph could easily be transmitted to the
Helios
...

The phone rang. He swore as he lifted the receiver.

‘So a cat may speak to a king!' Anne said. ‘It's taken me half a dozen attempts to get through to you.'

‘Two.'

‘You sound sharp so I'll be brief. Will you promise to go out to dinner on Saturday, whatever happens?'

‘No.'

‘There are times when I wonder why I married you.'

‘You know fixing a definite time can get blown to hell. Who's been unwise enough to try to make me name one?'

‘The Wilkins. And since in your present mood you'll tell me you don't know who they are, Eric's parents.'

‘Why do they want to dine and wine us?'

‘Because they haven't met you more than a couple of times. Is work being extra stressful?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then come back at a reasonable time, I'll cook you a good meal, you'll provide a nice wine, and you'll relax.'

‘Forget it.'

‘Duck paté, roast beef, Yorkshire puds, chocolate almond pudding.'

‘I only want cheese and salad.'

‘Lighten up, darling.'

‘How many times have I said ...'

‘I've never been able to count that high. We want to be on good terms with the Wilkins and if you make it seem as if you're reluctant to meet them, it could make all sorts of problems for Shirley and Eric. Incidentally, they're trying to fix a wedding day.'

‘When she's only eighteen ...'

‘Stop being possessive.'

‘How's he going to keep her?'

‘By working.'

‘In his job, as yet he can't be paid much.'

‘She'll keep working.'

‘Until she's pregnant.'

‘You're becoming quite impossible. Don't forget, if money becomes very tight for them, they can start fiddling social security ... Do I need to explain that's meant to be funny? When you're more approachable than a grizzly bear with toothache, we can discuss things.' She rang off.

If she had to deal with as many cases as the CID concerning the bitter, often violent rows between couples who had married too young for their characters and lack of maturity ... He called himself several choice names for allowing the black side of his job to threaten the white side of his life. After all, Eric seemed to be relatively intelligent and was surprisingly respectful for the present generation ...

Belinda entered. ‘You want something, sir?'

He picked up a photograph which had been in number thirty-four. ‘Show this to Fred Hellan on the
Helios
. Find out if he can identify this man as the one he knew as Taffy, who drank with Melanie Caine and looked at her as if ... Never mind what. As quick as you like.'

She picked up the photograph. ‘I'll fax or email this later ...'

‘You fail to understand my order?'

‘Which is difficult, though not impossible.'

‘What the devil does that mean?'

‘A day or two back, I got in touch with the Rex Cruising Company to find out how long the
Helios
would be in harbour. I thought we needed to know, should we wish to get in touch with anyone aboard.'

‘Good thinking.'

His praise was appreciated.

‘What did you learn?'

‘It sailed a couple of days ago on another Mediterranean cruise.'

‘Then follow your suggestion. Send the request to the captain in official terms and in the name of the detective chief superintendent to add weight since the captain may be over-conscious of his rank.'

‘A common failing.'

‘Do you have Australian blood in you?'

‘Why d'you ask?'

‘You have a habit of denigrating authority.'

She smiled, left.

T
he email from MV
Helios
was received just after ten on a morning of grey cloud, intermittent drizzle, and a shifting wind; a day on which not to imagine those on the
Helios
enjoying cloudless skies.