Fine Lines - SA (19 page)

In desperation, I went to the piece I had spent so much time over on my previous visit: the lovers and their hidden observer. The chair was stil lying where Zeppo had knocked it over.

Righting it, I sat down and stared at the trio, searching for my earlier absorption. Al I found was an irritating awareness that the girl's feet were too smal for her body, and that the artist was weak when it came to depicting hands.

Final y, I gave up. I set the chair back in the centre, turned out the lights and closed the door. The room no longer held any pleasure for me. Anna had spoiled my palate.

The telephone rang as I was going downstairs. I almost fel in my hurry to answer it, and picked it up, breathlessly.

"Hel o?"

"Hel o, Donald. It's Anna. I thought I'd better apologise for what happened earlier." My restlessness dropped away. "There's no need for that. You're not responsible for the man's manners. He has gone now, I take it?"

"Yes. He didn't stay long."

"Did he improve after we'd left?"

"Not so much that you'd notice." She sounded very low.

"Did he give you a rough time?"

"A little. But he'd just had a long journey. He was probably tired as wel as worried."

"That's no excuse. Was he very unpleasant?"

"Wel , he let me see what he thinks of me. Which isn't very much."

I felt a flare of anger. "Then he's a fool as wel as a boot. What did he say?"

"More or less what you heard. That it was time something was done, and he could do more here than in America. He made it clear that he begrudged having to come, but he obviously thinks that no one'5 trying to find Marty. And I don't think he trusts me stal ."

"That's ridiculous!"

"I know, but ..." I heard her sigh. "Wel , that's the impression I got, anyway. He asked to look through Marty's things, and when I stayed in the bedroom with him, he seemed to actual y resent me being there. As if I was trespassing on his son's property, or something. I don't know, perhaps I'm being too touchy."

"Having met the man, I doubt it."

"I just can't understand what I've done. I know he's bound to be worried and upset, but so am I. I can't see why he's got to be so nasty. We should be helping each other, not arguing.

He treats me as if I'm some sort of.. . of gold-digger, or something, who's led his son astray. I'm starting to think I must have done something wrong. I just don't know what."

"That's sil y, Anna. This isn't your fault, and you know it."

"I don't know. I just ... He makes me feel so guiltyV

"And I daresay that's exactly what he wants. You said yourself that Marty didn't get on with him. He's probably jealous of you, and so he's trying to make you suffer for it. Don't let him."

"But he's so sure of himself! I real y tried to be friendly, to make him less hostile, but he didn't want to know."

"Anna, the man's clearly nothing but a bitter-minded, petty little tyrant. He's not worth upsetting yourself over." There was a pause, and then she gave a low laugh. "You don't like him, do you, Donald?" I smiled, realising how worked up I had become, but glad I had given Anna at least some light relief. "Not the slightest bit."

"Thank God for that. I was worried it was just me."

"No, I think it's a perfectly reasonable opinion." She laughed again. It sounded wonderful. "Wel , hopeful y he'l be able to do some good now he's here. He's asked me to go to the embassy with him on Monday morning. He even managed to make that sound as if he was doing me a favour. I said I would, because I didn't want to give him a chance to say I'm not trying, but I stil want to clear it with you. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. I only hope they'l listen to him."

"So do I. I would think they'l have to, now. He's his father, and he's come al the way from America. Surely they'l have to do something, won't they?"

"I'm sure they wil ." I wondered what. "Are you seeing him again before Monday?"

"No. I asked him if he wanted to come here for something to eat tonight, but he said no. He wasn't exactly gracious about it, but I can't pretend I'm disappointed."

"I can't say I blame you." On impulse, I asked. "What are you doing tonight? Not staying in by yourself, are you?"

"No, I'm seeing some friends at Debbie's. And in case you're interested, she doesn't like Marty's father, either."

"So I gathered." I felt a stab of jealousy. Anna must have spoken to the girl before she telephoned me. "Wel , I'm glad you're going out.

It'l do you good."

"That's what Debbie said. I don't real y feel like it, to be honest, though."

"Nonsense. You deserve it after putting up with that awful man al afternoon." I hesitated. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Not so far. Why?" I felt ridiculously nervous. "If you're not, I wondered if you might like to go out somewhere?"

"It's nice of you to offer, Donald, but I better not. I'm not sure what Marty's father's doing. He might want to meet me again, or something."

"Of course. I only wondered. Wel , you know where I am if you want to get in touch." I was glad she could not see me. My face was burning like a schoolboy's. After I had put the telephone down I told myself that I was over-reacting, that she had not thought anything of either my offer or her refusal. But that did little to ease my embarrassment.

To take my mind off it, I thought about Marty's father, indulging in self-righteous anger against him. His entire attitude, particularly his treatment of Anna, was deplorable. There was simply

no cal for it. I spent a while contemplating scenarios in which I told Westerman exactly what I thought of him, while Anna stood by as a grateful witness. After half an hour of such juvenile fantasies, I felt much better. Until I remembered the reason he was here in the first place.

I wondered what, if any, effect he would have on the investigation into Marty's disappearance. Hopeful y none, but it was a situation I would rather have avoided. Then I wondered how Zeppo would react to the news.

I decided not to tel him.

Monday lunchtime came and went without sign of Anna. I found it difficult to concentrate on the everyday chores of the gal ery. Even when a garish and enthusiastic American came in and bought one of my more expensive pieces for cash, I found myself resenting the intrusion.

I had not spoken to Anna again. On Sunday, despite her refusal of my offer to go out, I had cal ed around to see her. But she was not in.

The doorbel rang hol owly, and there was that indefinable quietness about the flat that said it was empty. I left feeling the same way.

It was after two o'clock before she arrived at the gal ery, and my relief at seeing her was instantly tempered with anxiety for what might have occurred.

"Sorry I'm late. It took longer than I expected."

"That's al right. Did you have any luck with the embassy?" She took her coat off and hung it up. Her motions were slow and deliberate, as though she were very tired. When she turned to face me again, I noticed she had faint black smudges under her eyes. I wondered how long they had been there. "Sort of," she said. "Wel , not even sort of. Yes, we did." She gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'm not quite with it today."

"What happened?" She took a deep breath and sat down. "The embassy have final y agreed to get involved. Marty's father did al of the talking. I just sat there like a jel yfish. He told them that he'd spent time and money to come over here, so the least they could do was take it as seriously as he did. He went on about how it was completely out of character for Marty to do something like this, and said he

could supply written references from the university and half a dozen other sources to back him up, if need be. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they final y agreed to give us their backing when we went to the police, if we needed it. So that was where we went next. Marty's father demanded to see the detective inspector instead of the sergeant I'd spoken to last time, and got al high and mighty with them. It was a bit embarrassing, real y. But it worked, I suppose, so that's the main thing. Marty's now been moved on to a "high priority" category.

That means that instead of just having him on file, now the police wil actively start looking for him."

"How wil they do that?" I hoped my tension did not show.

"Circulate his description to other divisions, try to trace his movements. General y make more of an effort, I suppose. I don't know how much good it'l do, but at least they're trying."

She kneaded her eyes with one hand. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I should be relieved that they're actual y doing something at last, but I'm not. I know I'm being stupid, but now the police are taking it seriously, it seems to make it more real. As though something must have happened to him." I found it easy to reassure her. From what she had said, the police could search from now to judgement day without finding anything. "I think that's probably just reaction," I said. "The fact that the police have started to look for him isn't going to alter where he is, or why he went, is it? Al it means is that you have a better chance of finding him sooner."

"Oh, I know that, real y. It's just …" She shrugged. "Wel , like you say, it's probably reaction. And Marty's father doesn't help."

"I take it he's no pleas anter

"You could say that. And I'm in his bad books more than ever now. I stayed at Debbie's on Saturday night, and didn't get back to the flat until Sunday afternoon. He phoned about ten minutes after I'd got back in, and said that he'd been trying to get hold of me since the night before. It wasn't anything important, but he made it clear he disapproved of me being out. He didn't actual y accuse me of being unfaithful, but he might as wel have." She shook her head, exasperated. "I wouldn't mind so much, except it's the first time I've been out since Marty went missing. And I probably wouldn't have gone at al if he hadn't upset me so much."

I was outraged that he could even think such a thing. "He's a despicable little man. Don't let him bother you."

She hesitated. "Actual y, he might have done something to upset you as wel ."

"Me?" Anna nodded, grimacing. "After we'd been to the police station, he insisted on going to see the detective. I thought he just wanted to talk to him himself, to find out how far he'd got. Anyway, Mr. Simpson hadn't found out anything else since the last time we spoke to him, and seemed pleased when I said that the police were final y getting involved. Then, out of the blue, Marty's father suddenly said that now they were, we wouldn't be needing him any more. I didn't know what to say. I was just so surprised. And it was the way he said it. Not "I'm sorry", or "thank you", or anything like that. He just blurted it out! I didn't want to argue in the detective's office, so I waited until we were outside before I asked him what he thought he was doing. He said that Simpson was obviously inept, and that now the police were taking over there was no point risking amateurs clouding the water and ant agonising them. So I told him he stil shouldn't have done something like that without discussing it first with me. And you, because you're paying, after al . But he said there was more at stake than personal pride, and he wasn't going to waste time on etiquette. After that, I couldn't bear it any longer. I said I'd phone, and left him there. If I'd been with him another minute, I think I'd have strangled him."

She looked at me, contritely. "I'm sorry about the detective, Donald.

He had no right to do that." I agreed, but was relieved he had. It was one less factor to worry about. And a considerable expense saved. "Wel , I suppose he is Marty's father," I said.

"And the police have far more resources than a private detective anyway."

"I suppose so. It's just his attitude. I was going to be his daughter-in-law eventual y, so you think he'd at least make an effort to break the ice." She stopped. "I said "was". Not "am"."

"It was only a slip of the tongue."

"It's the first time I've done it, though." She looked on the verge of tears.

"You've had a trying day. What with the police, and the embassy, and the detective. It doesn't mean anything."

"No." She shook it off and smiled. "Anyway, talking of Marty's father, I've got a favour to ask."

"Yes?"

"I was stupid enough to ask him over for a meal again. This was before we went to the detective's, I might add. It doesn't promise to be a very joyous occasion, but I wondered if you'd mind coming as wel ? I know it's asking a lot, so if you'd rather not it doesn't matter."

"Of course I wil . I'd love to." Westerman or no Westerman, I was pleased that she had asked.

"Oh, thanks. I was hoping you would. It would have been pretty grim with just the two of us."

"Aren't you inviting anyone else?"

"No, I don't think so. The fewer people I inflict him on the better.

Not that I want to inflict him on you," she said, quickly. "But I thought I might not seem so bad if he sees I mix with respectable pil ars of society like you. And he might mel ow a bit with someone his own age." The last comment was unfortunate, but I refused to let it bother me.

Anna had stil invited me rather than anyone else, age notwithstanding.

Flattered, I remembered my protective fantasies of the weekend.

I dared Westerman to bul y her while I was there.

I had already reached the conclusion that Westerman was congenital y

obnoxious, and his behaviour during the meal at Anna's did nothing to change my mind. I would have expected at least a softening, if not an actual cessation, of his hostility for that night at least. But from the moment he arrived it was clear that there would be no such thing.

"You met Donald briefly on Saturday," Anna said, taking his coat. "He owns the gal ery I work at." Once again he shook my hand without enthusiasm, responding to my greeting with a short nod. Anna's smile was already beginning to look like hard work.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked him.

"No, thank you."

"There's mineral water or fruit juice, if you want something non-alcoholic. Or I can make you a cup of tea or coffee?"