Paint. The art of scam. (18 page)

Polly nodded.

‘Good,’ said
Shoal, ‘You are quite a woman Polly, not many people, let alone a woman, would
have shown the courage you have.’ Shoal smiled a smile that bothered her.

‘Oh, sorry, just
one more thing Polly. Mrs. Pascali, the tea lady, you were quite friendly with
her.’

‘No. Not
particularly.’

‘Oh? I've been
given the impression you were.’

‘I spoke to her
once or twice that's all, which I suppose is more than the rest of the office
did.’

‘Do you know
where she is?’

‘No. Why would I?’

‘Don't know
Polly, just thought I'd ask. We're having trouble locating her.’

Polly looked as
puzzled as she was. Shoal watched her every expression as he closed his notepad,
put his pen back in his top pocket and stood up.

‘Well you can go
now Polly, I'll see you tomorrow.’ said Shoal as left the room.

Seymour helped
Polly up the stairs to their apartment. Not a word had passed between them
since they'd left the Police station. Seymour led Polly around the remnants of
shattered glass in the doorway.

‘Shit, must clean
up this glass, locked myself out again today, huh, bloody post. I went down to
get the mail see and the bloody door slammed behind me.’

Polly nodded. ‘I
see.’

‘I suppose I
should have done like you said and got a spare key, put it in the cupboard
under the stairs. I've done it now though, went out to DIYland, fantastic
place. I'll take you out there one day. When you are better of course.’

Seymour took her
by the arm, led her to the table and pulled out a chair for her.

‘Right. How about
a nice cuppa then?’

Polly pulled away
and sat on the edge of the bed.

‘ Seymour leave
me alone. Please.’

‘Right. OK. Well,
if you need anything. You know, like anything. Well just ask. Are you hungry?’

‘Seymour!’
screamed Polly, ‘Shut up! Please!’

Seymour looked
down at Polly. Her eyes were firing at him, her teeth bared ready to strike,
great puffs of sodden swollen bags hung below her eyes.

Seymour turned
away and put his hands in his pockets.

‘Ok. Sorry. But
if you want to talk about....’

‘Seymour!’

That night the
silence in the apartment was unbearably thick. Polly had climbed into bed,
fully clothed, early and hadn't moved from the foetal position since. Seymour
paced, sat, paced some more, went to the loo sixteen times, stood at his easel
until 'I never plan the outcome 'cause I never see it through' spooked him and
generally attempted to occupy himself fruitlessly, apart from propagating his
spiral of doom that Polly's rejection of him had instigated.

The next morning,
at dead on ten, Ricketts arrived and knocked on the door. Seymour answered it.

‘Ah good morning
Sergeant, Polly won’t be a minute.’

‘Thank you for
the promotion sir, it’s Constable actually.’

‘Oh, whatever.
Um. Just a quick word.’

‘Yes sir?’

‘About that uh.
You know, that lump of, you know, that you took yesterday.”

‘Hashish sir?’

‘Yes...is
anything, you know, going to happen?’

‘Not sure sir.
Out of my hands now. We’ll have to wait and see. It’s up to Sergeant Shoal.’

‘Ah good, just
wondered, that’s all. So I can’t, you know, have it back then.’

Ricketts shook
his head.

‘No no, of course
not. Right, just thought I’d ask. I’ll just get my coat and find Polly.’

‘Oh no need for
you to come sir. We only need to see Polly.

Polly appeared
freshly showered and looking smart.

‘Oh, OK. Fine.’ said
Seymour, mildly disappointed.

Polly sat pinned
to an uncomfortable chair in a plain stark room. Shoal wandered slowly around
her, his hands behind his back, Ricketts sat near the door. She'd been there
for over an hour and had, yet again, retraced her steps from meeting Mr. Arnold
at the gates, following him inside and attempting to help him. The questions
Shoal had asked the day before had been asked again and the replies she had
given were the same, although she had now elaborated on them slightly.

‘We've had a look
at the car you escaped in Polly, there was a badly damaged tyre in the boot.’

Polly froze and
looked down at the floor for a moment, then back to Shoal. She hesitated a
moment and bit her lip; hoping it would compliment her hopefully convincing
expression of someone who was about to have a revelation

‘Oh yes, of
course, I forgot, that's right, Yes I had a puncture.’

‘Oh? When was
that then?’

‘I'm not sure,
somewhere not long after I escaped.’

‘And you changed
the wheel yourself?’

‘No, no it was in
a lane somewhere, a man pulled up, he was lost, he changed the wheel, then
carried on, not long after that, the other car hit me.’

‘And you omitted
to tell me that before Polly? It's quite a major event, having a puncture.
Don’t you think?’

‘I'm sorry, but
it all happened so fast, the whole thing is just a big blur, I was in shock I
suppose.’

Shoal circled her
again then stopped in front of her.

‘And who was this
man Polly, describe him will you?’

Polly now hoped
she looked as if she were concentrating, digging deep into her memory. She
slowly nodded.

‘Yes, it's all
coming back now. He was very tall, gangly, sort of spindly, about forty I
think, he was a bit crazy looking, he scared me, but he was nice. He just set
to and changed the wheel for me and left. Oh and that's right he had tattoos.
On his arms and the back of his neck.’

‘Mmmm and what
sort of car did he have?’

‘It was a big old
thing, a Jaguar I think. I'm not sure.’

Shoal went across
to the desk, picked up a large envelope, pulled out a file and dropped it on
the desk in front of her. She looked at the mug shot clipped to several other
pieces of paper.

‘Is this the man
that changed your tyre Polly?’

‘Yes I think so.
It looks like him. How did you find him?’

‘Oh we have our
ways Polly, we have our ways. It was also his car that drove you off the road.’

‘Oh?’ said Polly,
genuinely surprised.

‘Yes Polly. Oh,
indeed.’ said Shoal as he went back to his chair and sat down, leant back and
looked up at the ceiling. ‘We stopped this man about five miles from where we
found you. He was speeding you see. His car had no tax disc, he was drunk and
tried to escape. We arrested him of course, then later we found scratches on
his car, a Jaguar like you say, and the paint in the scratches match the paint
on the stolen car you were driving.’

‘My God!’ said
Polly looking horrified.

‘And then we
found fingerprints on the stolen car you were driving that matched his. So.
Well we put two and two together and bingo! Funny thing is, until we pointed
this out to him, he didn't mention anything about changing your tyre either.
Funny that. Don't you think Polly? That you both forgot.’

Polly sat,
stunned. ‘I, I don't understand, what are you saying?’

‘Just the facts
Polly. I'm just telling you the facts. I'm sure you understand how it's all a
bit puzzling, surely.’

Polly
straightened herself up, her mind racing. ‘Look Mr. Shoal.’

‘Yes Polly.’

‘I have no idea
who this man is. I never set eyes on him before in my life. I am telling you
the truth of exactly what happened. Are you insinuating something?’

Shoal sighed and
stood up, resuming his slow stroll around Polly.

‘So if we took
you back to where you came off the road do you think you would be able to
retrace your path, maybe show us where you had the puncture?’

‘Yes, I think so,
yes, OK. If it helps.’

‘Anything will
help Polly. I'm just covering all possibilities.’

‘What on earth do
you mean?’ snapped Polly.

Shoal raised his
eyebrows at her manner, then nodded his head as if he had concluded something.

‘This man Polly.
You say he was lost. Did he ask you for directions to somewhere?’

‘Yes. Some farm.
I can't remember the name.’

‘Willow farm?’

‘Yes that's it.
Willow farm. How did you know?’

‘That's where we
found the van Polly, that's where you must have escaped from.’

Shoal went over
to Ricketts and whispered something in his ear. Ricketts nodded and quickly
left the room.

‘Right,’ said
Shoal, ‘Now we seem to be getting somewhere at last. ‘Did you at any time see
the stolen money Polly?’

‘No.’ said Polly.

Shoal continued
wandering around the room, circling Polly several times. The silence was a
welcome relief, she was feeling strained by the vagueness she had to maintain.

‘And Mrs.
Pascalli, the tea lady. You know her well Polly?’

The question
shook her.

‘I told you
yesterday. No I don't.’

‘Not at all?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Mmm.’

Shoal's ‘Mmm’ irritated
Polly. Shoal had said ‘Mmm’ at least twenty times but this was an ‘Mmm’ that
stank of mistrust rather than curiosity.

‘You spoke to
Mrs. Pascalli several times?’

‘Yes, once or
twice maybe.’

‘And what did you
say Polly?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you?’

‘Yes, thank you.
For the tea. She's the tea lady. I thanked her, for the tea.’

‘Mmm..... As far
as we can gather, the staff were tranquillised by barbiturates, probably in the
tea and we are having trouble locating Mrs. Pascalli. So if you know anything
about her, it just may help us clear up this little mystery.’

As he was saying
it, Shoal's face closed in on her, stopping some twelve inches away. He smiled
and pulled back.

‘Mr. Shoal I
don't know anything about Mrs. Pascali, beyond the fact that she was the tea
lady.’

‘Mmm.’

Polly's eyes
stayed on his.

‘The rest of the
staff seem to think you were quite friendly with Mrs. Pascalli.’

‘Relatively
speaking, maybe I was.’

‘Relatively?’

‘Yes, nobody else
seemed to even have the courtesy to thank her for the tea.’

‘And you did?’

‘Yes.’

‘You like Mrs.
Pascali, Polly?’

‘I had no reason
to dislike her.’

‘Nobody else in
the office seemed to be particularly fond of her.’

‘Maybe they aren't
particularly fond of anybody.’

‘Ah ha! A bit of
animosity in the air, hey Polly?’

Polly drew a deep
breath through her nose and shook her head slightly.

‘Mr. Shoal I
really don't know what your driving at.’

‘I'm just trying
to get some sort of profile on things Polly, that’s all. You see this thing
seems to me have been a long, well organised plan and to get to the bottom of
it I have to fully understand the politics of it all. These people are pro's
Polly and....’

‘But what on
earth has whether I liked Mrs. Pascali or not got to do with it. Are you
insinuating that I was involved or something?’

Polly stood up
and eyeballed Shoal.

‘Well were you?’
asked Shoal calmly.

‘Jesus Christ Mr.
Shoal! I don't believe it! How on earth.....’

‘Calm down Polly,
calm down.’ said Shoal interrupting assertively.

‘Calm down? How
dare you!’

Polly's body was
shaking with a confusing mixture of fear and anger, her eyes burning into his.
Shoal broke the stare, took a few slow contemplative steps back to his desk and
sat down.

‘Please sit down
Polly.’

Polly's eyes were
still locked on Shoal's. She felt sick; her hands were trembling. Slowly she
lowered herself back onto the chair and attempted to compose herself.

‘The driver of
the van Polly. Parks. John Parks. Do you know him?’

‘No, I told you I
didn't see the driver.’ said Polly.

‘I know, you told
me you didn't see him. I asked if you know him?’

‘No. No I don't.’

‘Ever heard of
him?’

‘No.’

‘You overlooked
him clocking on late on his time sheet.’ said Shoal glancing down at a note. ‘Twice.’

‘Did I?’