Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [113]
FORTY-FOUR
Kincaide had already spent the best part of the day working through Jackie Moran’s statement with her. She’d made it transparently clear that she didn’t like him much, or at all in fact, and he reckoned this was probably because he wasn’t letting her prattle on about her flock of animals. She showed more concern for them than any of the people she mentioned, particularly the one she’d strangled. At this rate, he’d be stuck with her for a few more hours yet.
He glanced at his watch and wondered whether he could engineer enough of a break to sort out the Mel situation. He didn’t like the way she’d cooled off, and had no idea what had caused it, but neither did he think that she’d need much coaxing. With her type, a little attention went a long way.
He suddenly realized Jackie Moran was staring at him.
‘You didn’t write anything down,’ she said. ‘If you’ve finished, I’d like to go, because I need to see to the horses.’
‘Sorry.’ He smiled as he said it, and decided in that moment that he’d definitely take a break, even if it achieved nothing more than delay her departure.
But, before he could say anything, the door opened, Marks appeared and beckoned him into the corridor.
‘How’s it going?
Kincaide shrugged. ‘I don’t buy that self-defence argument of hers.’
‘But she’s sticking to it?’
‘Not budging.’
‘Might be worth picking it up again in the morning. Arrange for her to come back here first thing.’
Kincaide wasn’t about to argue, and made a swift exit. As he walked towards the stairs, he thought of Mel again and grinned. Now there’d be plenty of time to get her back on track. With any luck, he’d still be home in time to remind Jan that their own weekly routine had slipped by a few days. Perfunctory it might be, but it was still worth doing.
FORTY-FIVE
It was almost 9 p.m. before Goodhew met up with his grandmother.
‘So is that a suspension or not?’ she asked.
‘One step short. I don’t think Marks would want to try to explain why he never took an official line on those anonymous notes, especially if he actually suspected they were an internal issue. He’s not happy though.’
Goodhew had finished explaining the current situation to his grandmother, and they were seated by the window in the Galleria, a small Italian restaurant by the river. Goodhew had chosen it himself, and it was no coincidence that it was within sight of the unlit Excelsior Clinic. The waiter returned to their table with the pepper mill and ground some on his bolognese. His grandmother had ordered salad and he had no doubt that her pale blouse would stay unblemished; his white shirt wouldn’t be so lucky.
He waited until they were alone again before he continued. ‘But to be honest, it’s not as bad as I thought.’
Her fork hesitated a couple of inches from her mouth, and then descended. ‘I thought you’d be devastated.’
‘Of course I’m upset, but on the other hand, what’s really changed? As long as I’m in the building, I’ll still have access to information on various cases, so I can still do things in my own time.’
‘Gary, that’s the part of your behaviour you’re suppose to curb. You’ve had a lucky escape, so imagine if you were caught.’
‘I’m learning, but I just need to be more careful, and I’m proud of the things I’ve achieved. The one misdemeanor that’s got me into more hot water with Marks than anything else is the one I didn’t do.’
‘I’m confused now. Which one didn’t you do?’
‘I never tipped off the local papers.’
‘You didn’t? I thought you were bluffing.’
‘If I’m such a useless liar, why can’t you work out when I’m telling the truth?’ Goodhew frowned and twirled some spaghetti on to his fork then said, ‘Marks assumed I’d done it. That’s why he never asked anyone to look into it. We need to know who really did tip off the papers and, more importantly, why.’
‘We? Does that mean you and me or you and your colleagues?’
‘Either – does it matter who comes up with the answer?’
‘With you it’s just one big rush for the truth, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter who gets there first, just as long as it gets uncovered.’
‘And what