Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [100]
She took what seemed an age to open the door, and when he saw her he wondered whether she’d paused to apply make-up or if she slept with it on every night. Her housecoat looked newly ironed, too, and he felt more dog-eared than ever.
He frowned and she didn’t look too happy either. ‘You look like shit,’ she said.
‘You swore.’
She held open the door for him to step inside. ‘It’s called communicating with the younger generation,’ she said drily. ‘I was making a valid point.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Besides, at 4.30 a.m. I’m entitled to swear.’ But she didn’t sound at all tired, was clearly more awake than he was. ‘What’s up? And why didn’t you use your own key?’
‘Sorry, I left it at home. Look, I can’t sleep, I need to talk.’
He slumped into his favourite chair, and she perched on the edge of the chair facing his.
‘Well, well, I never thought I’d hear that coming from you, Gary. Not that I’m surprised, since you’ve pushed yourself to the limits to make detective in record time and now, correct me if I’m wrong, you seem to pressure yourself with far too much responsibility for every serious crime you touch.’ She paused. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘No? Look, you have yet to master the art of leaving work at work – it seems to follow you round all the time as if it’s hiding in your back pocket.’
Goodhew shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, actually it’s the murder I want to talk about,’ he said.
‘Explain it to me.’
‘The case? Sure.’ He settled back in the chair, and she did the same.
She listened without interruption.
‘I feel,’ he said finally, ‘as if we just don’t know anything. It’s too random, just a fog of possibilities and no clear direction through it.’
‘Of course there will be.’
‘Go on then, infect me with optimism.’
‘Of course, you know crucial pointers already, the problem is you have hoarded too many little gems of information and you can’t distinguish the ones that matter.’ She beamed at him.
‘Case closed then,’ he muttered.
‘Gary. Just pull in the slack.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘All these little gems – perhaps they’re all actually threaded on to the same bracelet. Pull in the slack and you’ll see how they all sit together.’
‘Oh God, optimism and analogy combined. Sorry, but I really am too tired for that.’
But she was on a roll. ‘What do your instincts tell you?’
‘Nothing. That’s why I came to see you. I haven’t got a clue any more.’
She gave the chair’s armrest a decisive thump. ‘I’m putting the kettle on. If you were ten years younger, I’d say you were over-tired and send you to bed.’ His grandmother retreated and Goodhew closed his eyes until he heard the kettle start to boil, then followed her into the kitchen.
‘I thought getting it off my chest might help.’
His grandmother raised an eyebrow. ‘Does that mean you’re turning over a new leaf?’
Goodhew laughed, but without humour. ‘No, just a one-off.’
‘You know the bracelet analogy? Maybe the gems are just in the wrong order.’
‘And I suppose you already worked out what the right order is?’ He took three tea bags from the canister and dropped them into the pot.
‘No, I haven’t the foggiest.’ She pulled out a tray and he loaded it with the milk, sugar and two mugs. But she wasn’t about to drop the matter either. ‘If Lorna’s death was planned, why do it in such an open place? Even at 1 a.m., there must’ve been a good chance of someone seeing them.’
‘Someone put the GHB in Lorna’s coffee, but how quickly it took effect wasn’t entirely in the killer’s hands. Perhaps the original plan was to kill her down one of the footpaths.’
He paused, aware that his grandmother’s train of thought had started to wander down an obscure footpath of its own.
‘Was she notably promiscuous?’
‘Possibly no more so than many single people. But what I am discovering is that she was a manipulator. She pulled strings in several people’s lives, then was there to pick up the pieces.