The House of Women (21 page)

8

McKenna felt unable to leave Llys Ifor without saying farewell to Gertrude. She was like the ghost at a banquet, an unresolved mystery who would remain a fixed point in the existence of all who knew her.

Gladys solved the dilemma for him.
‘Mr McKenna’s got to go now. He’s a long drive ahead of him.’ Her sister snuffled, head sunk in her chest. Then, holding out her hand, Gladys said: ‘It was kind of you to come, and I hope you’ll let George go soon. I know he wouldn’t hurt Ned.’ Her palms and fingers were calloused with toil, the skin on the back of her hands freckled with liver spots. ‘Will you give him my regards? Tell him to come and see us when he can.’

Annie took him back through the kitchen.
‘It’ll be dark soon,’ she commented, looking at the sky to the east, dusky with impending twilight. ‘If Mama’s still attached to the floor, I might stay here overnight.’

‘
We need to search your mother’s house for Ned’s missing things, but I’d be grateful if you don’t alert her yet.’

‘
Not tonight, surely?’

‘
Tomorrow.’

‘
That’s another day, and anything could happen. All your questions could be answered by a stroke of magic.’

‘
I doubt that.’

She fell silent, looking up at the sky, then at him.
‘Could you do me a favour? I’m not taking advantage of knowing you, but I’ve got a problem and it won’t go away. At the moment, it’s a little one, but I’m afraid it’s getting bigger.’

‘
I can’t promise, but I’ll try. What is it?’

‘
The car.’ She nodded towards the vehicle, gleaming beside the other dark beast of a machine. ‘I bought it last November, and in March, 1 received a fixed penalty notice about a parking offence in Shrewsbury. I haven’t been to Shrewsbury in years, so I filled in the form which came with the notice, and sent it back. Then another one came, about the same offence, so I added a letter, and last week, I had a final notice. I rang Shrewsbury police, but they say I’m the last registered owner, and therefore liable.’

‘
I’ll see what we can do.’

As he walked towards the car, Annie a few paces behind, Bethan came around the corner of the house, Meirion beside her, and began to run towards her mother, curls flopping. One of the dogs shot past his master in a flurry of black and white, and collided with the child, knocking her to the ground. She lay there, stunned, a little heap of flesh and bone in bright summer clothes, and McKenna ran towards her, gathering her in his arms. She sobbed briefly, rubbed her eyes with her fists, then smiled at him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. As he carried her to Annie, her hair like gossamer against his cheek, her sun-warmed flesh against his, he realized he had never before held a child, and felt such a pain pierce his heart he needed to cling to her, for the comfort she brought, as Phoebe clung to her fat tabby cat.

*

Hesperus, the evening star, hung between the mountains like a guiding light. Save for the odd farm vehicle, the road was almost deserted, and, where the old railway viaduct marched in silhouette over the horizon to one side, and the bulk of Arenig Fach cast a massive shadow to the left, McKenna glimpsed a tiny shape pacing ahead like a piece of landscape on the move. Drawing near, he saw the shape for an old man, clad in shirt and britches, tumbledown boots on his feet, his skin like tanned leather, an empty fertilizer
sack tied around his middle, and a knapsack bouncing between his shoulder blades. He stopped the car, dust and stones spinning from the rear wheels, and reversed. ‘Can I give you a lift? We’re a long way from civilization.’

The man halted his trudging, a little smile tweaking at lips bedded in stubble. He leaned on the car door, the smell of tobacco and sackcloth strong about him, and laughed at the transformation of McKenna
’s face as recognition came.

‘
Robin Ddu!’

‘
Not quite so black as last time we met,’ the old man said. ‘I get a good scrub now and then at the mansion farm near Bronaber. I’ve been working there the past few weeks.’

‘
Where have you been today?’ McKenna asked, pushing open the passenger door.

‘
The same place you just came from, most probably,’ Robin dropped heavily on the seat. ‘I stayed last night at Martha’s, then went on this morning to pay my respects to Ned’s folk.’ He eased off one of the boots, exposing a wash-worn sock. ‘You and your fancy car are welcome to me. I’ve got a blister on my heel from this terrible heat and my new socks.’

‘
And what have you been up to since I saw you last?’

‘
This and that. Here and there.’

‘
Where did you spend the winter?’

‘
The usual places.’

Resting almost on the horizon, the sun cast his face into sharp relief, reddening th
e weathered cheeks. He was a large man, bony and ill-proportioned, with rawboned hands strong enough to wring the life from a sickly lamb or a dog gone bad. His scalp was fluffy with wispy grey hair, his eyebrows bleached by the sun, and his eyes that clear, far-seeing blue, peculiar to the true Celt.

‘
Martha’s offered me a roof this year,’ he added. ‘If she’s not dead by then.’

‘
The one they call Martha’r Mynydd?’ McKenna asked.

‘
She’s the only Martha in these parts. D’you know her?’

‘
I’d never heard of her until today. Annie Harris told me about the Ingrams.’

‘
She’s a bonny young woman, isn’t she? And the little one’s as pretty as a picture.’ Robin smiled, exposing raw pink gums. ‘More than even God Himself could say for Martha. Poor soul! She’s been so sick they took her to the hospital in Bangor for a couple of nights.’

‘
What was wrong with her?’

Rummaging in the knapsack between his feet, Robin pulled out a dog-eared book and waved it under McKenna
’s nose. ‘Ned gave me this last time we met. It tells how the English found us in centuries past.’ He turned the pages slowly, one expression after another beguiling his face, and, his words in counterpoint to the whining slipstream, said: ‘They reckoned the country was the fag end of Creation, the animals were the rubbish from Noah’s Ark, and what passed for houses nothing more than nasty hovels dripping with damp, where the farmer, his family, his servants, and his animals all lived together, and they were all such brutes you couldn’t tell one from the other.’

‘
What’s that got to do with Martha?’

‘
She still lives like that, only it’s just her and the animals. She caught something off one of them, and it made a huge cyst on her neck, and when it burst, she said the room was almost flooded, then this huge tapeworm crawled out and slithered down her body and away through the bloody stuff from her neck.’

‘
For God’s sake!’ The car swerved, rocking wildly for a moment.

‘
It’s true,’ Robin insisted. ‘You ask the nurse who does for Gertrude Jones if you don’t believe me.’

McKenna thought of the ignorance on which Annie blamed Gertrude
’s tragedy, and, glancing at the man beside him, whose age he could not even remember, of others brutalized by that ignorance.

‘
Martha’s been very miserable since she came back from the hospital,’ Robin went on. ‘She had some turkeys in the barn, ready for Christmas, only a fox got in and killed all but three. Then the next night, there was a great wind, and the barn roof caved in and finished off the rest, like God smashing His fist on her. She wants me to go back before the weather turns to make the hole good.’

‘
Did she know Ned?’

‘
She knows the whole family, and she said the friend he brought back from college stuck out like a sore thumb.’

‘
That was over thirty years ago,’ McKenna said.

‘
So? He was a foreigner, so he stuck in the mind. Folk like to remember some things, as when Ned won at the Eisteddfod. They were all very proud.’ He smiled the toothless smile again. ‘Robbed you of your glory, didn’t he?’

‘
Is there anyone in Christendom who hasn’t heard that story?’

‘
Probably not. It’s a good story, and you’ll be remembered for it.’ He rubbed the blister on his heel. ‘So let’s hope it’s not spoilt by folk saying you didn’t have the brains to find out who killed him. Gladys tells me the young man you locked up isn’t the right one.’

‘
No, I don’t think he is, but we had no choice.’

‘
We’ve always got a choice.’

‘
You choose to live like this, do you? Never knowing where your next crust’s coming from, never knowing if you’ll have shelter of a night?’

‘
I had the choice to slave for another man’s profit, or be where I am, beholden to nobody.’ His right hand still holding the old book full of English spite, Robin waved his left airily about him. ‘Look around you, man! It’s a sight to break your heart! Is it any wonder I chose to walk the roads?’ He grinned, gums raw in the cavernous mouth. ‘I’d be a gyppo if I could afford the pony and caravan.’

‘
You’re nuts,’ McKenna said equably. ‘You always were. So’s Martha, by the sounds of it. You’ve probably been drinking water from Trawsfynydd Lake.’ Reaching the bottom of the pass, he slowed the car. ‘I’m going to Porthmadog. Where are you heading?’

‘
The farm at Bronaber.’

‘
I’ll drop you off, then. It’s not far.’

‘
No need. You’ve already saved me three hours or more.’ Leaning down, seat-belt cutting across his chest, he put the boot back on his blistered foot, and methodically tied the laces, breath wheezing. ‘Stop where the road forks, and we’ll part company for the time being.’ The boot laced, he sat up, and grinned again. ‘I dare say I’ll call on you one way or another when I’m next in Bangor.’

‘
We’ll always give you a bed, if you’re desperate. You don’t need to smash up the town to get inside the police station.’

‘
That was the last time I saw Ned, you know,’ Robin said. ‘When you locked me up for the night.’

‘
Did you ever write to him?’

‘
I’m not one for having my thoughts on paper for others to know about. Gladys kept me up to date.’

‘
How long have you known them?’

He shrugged.
‘Who keeps tally? I’ve helped out since their father passed on. I can strip a sheep of its fleece faster than anyone this side of the mountains.’

McKenna stopped the car, wheels cutting deep wounds in the grass verge. Reluctant to abandon his passenger, he asked:
‘Have you any cash to tide you over?’

Robin patted the pockets in his britches, and McKenna heard the jingle of coins.
‘I get a wage at the farm, and I’ve no outgoings like the rest of the world.’ He clambered out of the car, and reached in for his knapsack. ‘I’ll be fine. This is my land, isn’t it? I know it better than the backs of my hands.’ He shut the car door, hefted the knapsack on his back, then leaned over, gazing at McKenna. ‘Next time you see young Annie, tell her about the Ingrams, will you? I forgot earlier. We were too busy with Ned.’

‘
Tell her what?’

Robin looked towards the horizon, where the sea glimmered like molten metal between the fall of land.
‘I slept in Martha’s barn, under the stars I could see through the hole in the roof, because folk wouldn’t think it seemly for us to share the house, even at our age.’ He put up his hand, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. ‘And nobody knows where the tapeworm went, do they? Anyway, very late last night, I heard noises from the house, so I went to look. There were shapes flitting back and forth behind her curtains, and a man talking in a deep voice, and a girl laughing, and Martha joining in with the fun. So there you are. You never know, do you?’

9

Still dressed in the clothes he wore the night before, George was stretched out on his bunk, staring at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head. A book lay spine up in his lap, and an empty plastic mug had toppled over on the floor. When Dewi opened the cell door, he turned his head slowly. ‘As I’ll be here at least one more night, d’you think I could have a shower and change of gear?’

‘
The duty officer’s on his way.’ Dewi leaned against the wall, imagining the black man like a caged panther. ‘You should’ve been released. It’s as plain as a pikestaff somebody fitted you up.’

‘
Not according to the lady
bwana
. She’s explained how she worked out my elaborate plot to kill Ned by remote control, so I can steal his work.’

‘
She doesn’t really believe that, does she?’

George put the book on the floor, then sat up.
‘She’s managed to convince a magistrate.’

‘
But you were in London.’

‘
Who says? Me? My parents?’ He smiled bitterly. ‘Get real, Dewi! Nobody believes people like us, unless we’re confessing to crimes.’

‘
Other people would’ve seen you.’

‘
Yes, and if I could remember where I went and when, your mates in London would know who to ask, but I can’t.’

‘
Edith said you hadn’t been to the house for weeks.’

‘
She goes out, doesn’t she? She can’t know for sure.’

‘
Jesus! You sound like you don’t know yourself.’

‘
I’m telling you how others view it,’ George said, ‘so I don’t expect to see daylight again in the foreseeable future.’ He rose, his energies uncoiling like springs, and began to pad from one corner of the small cell to another, unshod feet almost silent. ‘Is my room secure? Has anyone been back?’

‘
Forensics went to check on a few things, and I called in to make sure the door’s been repaired and the lock fixed.’

George halted suddenly.
‘Why did forensics go back?’

‘
Mr McKenna sent them, in case the excitement of finding the bracelet made them a bit slipshod looking for other things.’

‘
Such as?’

‘
Signs that it was a genuine break-in, and that someone got in while you were away, though I don’t see how they could. No-one’s got a key for the mortice, have they?’

‘
Ned had one.’

‘
Why in God’s name didn’t you say so before?’

‘I
didn’t think last night because the door was kicked in, but I told whoever took my statement when I reported the suspected break-in. You can check.’

*

Rowlands sighed. ‘You’ve already had one bollocking for consorting with suspects. Give her half a chance, and Bradshaw’ll put you on a disciplinary charge, so it’s a waste of time even thinking she’ll listen to anything you’ve got to say about keys to George’s room, faked break-ins, and planted evidence. As far as she’s concerned, it’s all over bar the shouting, and as from tomorrow, we’re on other duties. She ripped up the search warrants on Edith’s house.’

‘
Mr McKenna won’t be told what to do,’ Dewi said. ‘Not when it’s against his better judgement.’

‘
He might have no choice.’ Looking at the younger man’s eyes, bright with anger, he added: ‘George saying he gave a key to Ned is the same as him saying he was in London last week. We can’t prove it, and we can’t disprove it, so we’re left with balancing the odds.’

Dewi fidgeted with a ballpen.
‘So why didn’t we find Ned’s letters and other stuff with the conveniently to hand bracelet?’

‘
Because he got rid of them. The bracelet’s small enough to overlook.’

‘
We’ll regret this.’ Dewi’s voice was ominous.

‘
Maybe, and maybe not, and quite frankly, I’m fast losing interest. We’ve got cars to worry about, including hers, which is still somewhere in the wide blue yonder.’ Rowlands smiled coldly. ‘She’s gone home in a little Fiesta. It was all she could get her hands on at short notice.’

‘
You want to be careful she doesn’t pull her knife out of my back and stick it in yours, sir.’

‘
Haven’t you figured out yet she’ll have more than one knife? God! You haven’t a clue how life works, have you? You’ve been part of McKenna’s cosy little clique too long, and so has Janet.’

‘
You sound as if you resent the way we get on together, sir,’ Dewi commented.

‘
I’m telling you how the situation looks to an outsider. It’s no skin off my nose, because I’m just passing through, but you’re stuck with Bradshaw.’

‘
I expect she’ll learn to fit in, if she’s staying.’

‘
First Phoebe Harris, then the unwholesome Iolo, now you!’ Rowlands was exasperated. ‘Is there something in the local water that goes to your head? You seem to think you can turn the world any way you want it.’

‘
That’s the difference between the leaders and the followers,’ Dewi said mildly. ‘Not that I’d call the professor a leader. Would you?’

‘
And how d’you rate Bradshaw?’

‘
We’ll see, won’t we? When push comes to shove.’

‘
OK then.’ Rowlands grinned suddenly. ‘Let’s give her a shove in the right direction. She flatly refused to let me interview Iolo about Ned’s papers because she’s besotted with the image he and the sulky Solange put over, whereas I think it’s a long way from the reality.’ He reached for his cigarettes. ‘For instance, his income won’t support mortgage, car finance, general living expenses, as well as her clothes and jewellery. His book sales are nothing to write home about, and his lecturing pulled in less than £500 last year.’ He lit the cigarette, his smile lingering. ‘I’ve been busy on the computer.’

‘
Solange probably gets her clothes cheap. She used to be a model.’

‘
She did indeed, but there are models and models. I’m not saying she advertised for punters in a Parisian telephone kiosk, although that could be how she met Iolo, because I imagine he’s got a liking for the gutter. The French call it
nostalgie
de
la
boue
.’ He grinned again. ‘I checked with immigration. She was a house model for a ready-to-wear clothing outfit in Paris, which is as unglamorous as it gets.’

‘
Her family could be well-off.’

‘
Her father managed a small ironmongery before he retired, her mother worked part-time in a wallpaper factory, they’ve got three other children, and live in one of Paris’s poorer quarters. Solange just trolled around various shops and offices before she struck lucky at the clothing factory.’

‘
So what’s that got to do with Ned?’

‘
I don’t know, but there’s some connection. Why else would Ned keep all those cuttings and whatnot?’ Inhaling a lungful of smoke, Rowlands went on: ‘Janet said he might’ve hero-worshipped Iolo, but I can’t see it, somehow.’

‘
We’ve got a potential source of information captive in the cells,’ Dewi pointed out.

‘
Bradshaw would love that, wouldn’t she? Anyway, George can’t say which of the boxes is the Box of Lies.’

‘
Phoebe says
all
the boxes must be full of lies.’

‘
She doesn’t know any more than George. She’s making an assumption, and assumptions are dangerous,’ Rowlands commented. ‘None the less, Iolo was at Edith’s on Wednesday, so he could have spiked the food.’ He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder. ‘Our problem would be proving he got his hands on some tetracycline. The pathologist checked on everyone with access to the house, and the Williamses have only had penicillin derivatives, although he gets a lot of sleeping pills. Mind you, I’d need sleeping pills if I had to lie next to her every night.’ He handed over the paper, pointing out regular prescriptions for hypnotics in the name of E Iorwerth Williams. Nothing was listed for Jason Lloyd, nor for George Polgreen. ‘I checked up on them,’ he added. ‘Apparently, they’re both disgustingly healthy.’

‘
So?’ Dewi stretched and yawned. ‘They’ve both got family. What about them?’