Paint. The art of scam. (19 page)

‘Yes’

‘So what? I make
mistakes sometimes. Don't you?’

‘Rarely. But you
must remember the name Polly.’

‘No Mr. Shoal, I
don't. There are seven hundred and fifty employees at Hogarth's. Their names
mean nothing to me.’

‘You like working
at Hogarth's Polly?’

‘It's OK.’

‘Your husband
told my colleague you hate it.’

‘He did? When?’

‘On the way to
the hospital.’

‘Oh really?’
Polly momentarily cursed Seymour, hoping it didn’t show.

‘Why do you work
at Hogarth's Polly?’

‘For money, why
else?’

‘You have money
problems Polly?’

‘No more than
anybody else.’

‘I see. Now. Um.
You like perfume Polly?’

‘Yes.’

‘Expensive
perfume?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thought so. I
found some perfume on the floor near the entrance of the offices. Smelt the
same as the one you were wearing yesterday.’

‘That's right. I
dropped it.’

‘You dropped it.
How?’

‘My bag caught on
the door. Ripped the strap off.’

‘You haven't
mentioned it before.’ said Shoal sliding out a draw in the desk and retrieving
a large, clear plastic bag containing her bag. ‘Is this your bag?’

‘Yes, I didn't
remember. It wasn't that important in the big scheme of things.’

‘Oh I see. Mr.
Arnold had a smell of the same perfume on him.’

‘He did?’

‘Yes on his shoes
mostly. Forensics will confirm it in time. You get on with Mr. Arnold Polly?’

‘OK, I suppose.’

‘Did you know
that Mr. Arnold had a doctors appointment yesterday morning Polly?’

‘No. Not until he
told me’

‘Why were you
late for work Polly?’

‘I slept in.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see. When you
saw Mr. Arnold was ill, in the corridor, did you try to stop him from going to
the pay office.’

‘No.’

‘Why not? Why
didn't you try to get help?’

‘He wouldn't
stop. He's a very stubborn man. He kept on walking.’

‘So you did try
to stop him.’

‘No, not really.
I couldn't.’

‘Did you struggle
with him?’

‘No!’

‘So how did he
get perfume on him?

‘He helped me
pick up the stuff that had fallen out of my bag, he must have got some on him
then I suppose. What exactly are you saying Mr. Shoal?’

‘Oh. Nothing. It
just seems a bit strange to me. That's all.’

‘What does?’

Shoal smiled as
he wondered over to the door.

‘Won't be a
moment, Polly.’

Shoal slipped
out. Polly behaved as if she were being observed, which was likely judging by
the mirror embedded in the wall opposite her. She crossed her legs, leant back
and stretched her arms. It was an appropriate posture, she imagined, for an
innocent victim of a well-orchestrated crime. She hoped her fury with Seymour
and her sudden intimidation by Shoal's questioning didn't show as much as it
felt.

Shoal came back
into the room after a few minutes and again started wandering around the room
thoughtfully tugging at his goatee.

‘How would you
feel like going for a drive, just to look around. Something might jog your
memory?’

‘Yes. Ok. If you
think it will help.’

Shoal stood at
the open door and politely gestured Polly through.

His eyes stayed
on her as she got up and went out through the door where there was a uniformed
officer waiting. Shoal ushered her along the long corridor; mutterings and
footsteps echoed around making their source indefinable. The uniformed officer
walked ahead of her and Shoal behind.

‘Nigel?’ said
Shoal.

The uniformed
officer suddenly stopped and looked back Shoal.

‘Yes sir?’

‘That forensic
sample, you know the dirt on the wheel. Is it back yet?’

‘Don't think so
sir.’

Polly, sandwiched
between the two of them, was forced to stop and wait as the contrived sounding
exchange between them continued.

‘Well maybe give
them a call, see if you can hurry them up will you?’

Polly looked into
an open door next to her. There he was, Spider, sat in a chair, his
extraordinarily long legs, awkwardly twitching and swaying, his massive hands
rubbing and scratching at his face. He looked up at Polly. His face, clearly
distressed, changed into three or four indeterminable expressions in quick
succession. He stood up and headed toward her before two men appeared from
inside the room and grabbed him by the arms, forcing him back down.

‘Hey lady, it's
you innit. Tell 'em will ya. I don't know nuffin about all this shit. Tell 'em!’
screamed Spider.

Polly looked up
at Shoal who's eyes were already firmly fixed on hers. Shoal smiled and calmly
reached into the room, grabbed the door knob and gently closed the door.

‘Friend of yours
Polly?’ said Shoal

‘A friend!’ said
Polly angrily. ‘That's him. The man who changed the wheel for me.’

‘Yes, that's
right Polly, chivalry is not dead after all, come along Nigel lets get a move
on.’

They drove around
for over an hour in the unmarked police car. The pouring rain that had by then
turned the whole area into a quagmire: any hope of finding any track marks were
lost. Polly maintained her vagueness, but was able to re-enact her movements in
some detail from when she got out to the van to her driving away from the barn
in the car. Where she went after that, was a mystery. The area around Willow
farm was on The Barrington Estate, a labyrinth of well used forest tracks and
lanes and she genuinely could not remember anything.

‘We'll drop you
back home now Polly. I'll be in touch in the near future.’ said Shoal as they
drove back to town. He had made no secret of his irritation with Polly's
inability to show them her route after she escaped

‘Why?’ asked
Polly.

‘Oh, just a few
more questions that may need answering.’

They pulled up
outside Polly's place and Shoal reached across to open the car door.

‘Ok. Now you get
some rest Polly. We'll be in touch.’

‘Right, um. I am
safe, aren't I? said Polly. ‘You don't think they would try and get at me. You
know. Try and find me.’

‘Why would they,
Polly? You haven't got anything on them have you?’ said Shoal, exaggerating his
questioning tone.

‘Well. No.’ said
Polly avoiding eye contact with Shoal.

‘They've got what
they want. I mean, if you could identify them, well that would be different,
wouldn't it.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Don't worry.
I've got some people keeping an eye on you, just in case.’

‘Where?’ said
Polly looking at Shoal.

‘I'll see you
soon Polly. Get some rest.’

Polly slowly
climbed the stairs and let herself into the flat with the unlikely hope that
Seymour would be out.

Back to normal.

‘Well? How was
it?’ asked Seymour brightly, standing at his easel, the new canvas now daubed
with uneasy grey lines.

‘Oh, it was… I'll
tell you in a minute.’ mumbled Polly as she flopped down on the bed.

‘Oh, OK.’

Seymour was in
mourning. It was Saturday, his favourite day. A day when they would normally
lay in bed for hours, talking, giggling, drinking coffee, eating toast, making
love, smoking joints, reading the papers and generally forgetting all about the
numerous issues that plagued their life. He felt robbed as he watched Polly
over the top of the canvas, occasionally making suitable noises for an artist
absorbed in his work. She looked uneasy as she stared up at the ceiling, her
mouth gently chewing at troubling thoughts.

‘So. All sorted
then?’ asked Seymour having rehearsed several sentences and how to say them in
his head. That was all he could come up with.

Polly didn't
reply. She just lay there staring, barely blinking. Seymour began whistling an
unknown tune.

‘I heard about it
on the radio.’ said Seymour.

Polly sighed and
looked across at him.

‘Oh? What did
they say?’

‘Nothing much
really. Just about a robbery at Hogarth's. They didn't even mention you. They
said something about Arnold. That he had a heart attack. That was it really.’

‘Oh.’

‘Polly?’

‘Mmm?’

‘They didn't. I
mean. You know. Try anything on?’

Polly returned
her eyes to the ceiling.

‘No Seymour. No
they didn't.’

‘Oh. Good.’ said
Seymour adding white to the grey and standing back ‘So. How much did they get
then?’

‘I don't know.’

‘Must have been a
fair amount eh? Few grand at least.’

‘I suppose.’

‘You gotta hand
it to them, haven't you. Pretty clever stuff. I mean. The tea lady drugging
everyone! Fucking brilliant! You always said there was more to her than meets
the eye.’

Polly lifted her
head and looked across at him.

‘I don't believe
you Seymour. They could've killed me!’

‘Oh yeah I know.
But they didn't. Thank God. No, no I just meant...you know. I've been thinking.
It was well planned and by rights you should have been fast asleep with the
rest of them in the office. Then it would have gone more smoothly, anyway the
long and the short of it is that it's my fault. I made you late for work. So I
just want to say sorry. OK?

‘Oh shut up
Seymour. Please. I just want some peace for a few moments.’

Seymour started
to mix up some yellow paint he didn't need.

‘Want a cup of
tea?’

‘No thanks.’

‘You sure. I'm
having one.’

Polly turned her
head on the pillow and looked at him. He shuddered. He knew that look well.
Time to shut up, make himself a cup of tea and leave her alone.

Seymour was
relieved to have a task that he could perform and went over to the kitchen
area. The silence in the room caused by the tension Polly exuded made his
clumsiness more pronounced. The harder he tried to negotiate the operation
silently, the louder it became. Polly, irritated by the noise, eased herself
off the bed, stretched and shook her head as if to clear it.

‘How was your
morning then?’ she asked dutifully.

‘Oh fine.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, bit of this
and a bit of that.’

‘How were the
cartoons?’ asked Polly touching the TV as she passed it.

‘Oh. I only
watched a bit of it. You know how it is. The TV gives me inspiration sometimes.’

‘How sad,’ said
Polly, stopping to look at the canvas.

Seymour looked
over to her and smiled. Polly smiled back at him but looked away again. She
stood staring at the canvas for a few moments, her mind numb.

‘I've only just
started that one.’

‘Oh. Right. It's
good.’

She stood there
gazing at the meaningless image for a few more moments then disappeared into
the bathroom.

Bolting the door
behind her Polly leant on the basin with her arms and looked into the mirror,
staring deep into her eyes. Those eyes. There were hiding something, even from
her, again. Why did she do it? Why didn't she just slam that boot shut and head
for the nearest house and phone the police. Why? She stared at her reflection
and saw a grin appear from nowhere. The same mischievous grin that she had seen
before when she had got herself into trouble in the past.

‘You stupid
bitch.’ she slowly whispered to herself, forcing the grin away. ‘You stupid,
stupid bitch.’

Polly ran some
cold water, filled her cupped hands, doused her face and looked again at her
reflection. She stared a chastising stare. Then grinned again.

Suddenly she
involuntarily burst into tears, dropped the toilet seat down and sat down,
gasping for breath.

‘You OK Polly?’ came
Seymour's voice from outside the door.

Polly quickly
collected herself.

‘Yes, I'm fine
thanks. I'll be out in a minute.’

Ten minutes later
she emerged from the bathroom unaware of the distress emanating from her face.
She grabbed a chair to steady herself as she staggering across the room.
Seymour went to her and took her by the arm.