Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [30]
20. Truth and Truth-Telling in Gayfield Square At Gayfield Square Police Station, Irene and Bertie were greeted by a policeman, who smiled warmly at Bertie. “Lost your bicycle, son?” the policeman asked. Bertie looked at the policeman blankly. “I don’t have a bicycle,” he said. “I wish I had a bicycle, but I don’t. Mummy won’t let me . . .”
“The officer is just being playful, Bertie,” Irene interrupted.
“It’s his idea of a joke, you see.”
The policeman looked at Irene sharply. “And what can we do for you, Madam?” he asked coldly.
“I’ve come to report the theft of a car,” said Irene.
“I see,” said the policeman. “And are we sure it’s been stolen?
It hasn’t been towed, has it?”
Irene gave a start. Towed? It had not occurred to her that the car might have been legitimately removed. What sort of line was there on the road at that point? Was it residents’ parking?
It was residents’ parking, surely . . .
“I don’t think it will have been towed,” she said. “It was parked in Scotland Street, where we always park it. Now it’s gone.”
The policeman nodded. “The most surprising cars get towed, you know. You’d be astonished at how many people come in 62
Truth and Truth-Telling in Gayfield Square here to report their car stolen and all the time it’s down at the vehicle pound.”
Irene gave the policeman the number of their car and he went away briefly to feed the details into a computer. While he was gone, Bertie looked around the room with interest. There were several notices pinned on a board and he sidled over to these and peered up at them. There was a notice about the depth of tread required on a car tyre and one about the closing of a road. And then there was a Wanted poster, complete with the photograph of the wanted person. Bertie peered at the photograph. It was very interesting. Surely not . . .
“Mummy,” he whispered. “Come over here and look at this. Look at this Wanted poster.”
“Not now, Bertie,” said Irene. “We must deal with our car first.”
“But I recognise the person in that photograph,” Bertie persisted. “Look, Mummy! Look at the person in the photograph.”
“Oh really, Bertie,” said Irene, the exasperation rising in her voice. “I don’t see what . . .” She stopped. Slowly she leant forward and studied the picture. “My goodness . . .” she began.
“You see,” said Bertie. “It is him, isn’t it?”
Irene stood up again and pulled Bertie away from the notice board. “Hush, Bertie,” she said. “We haven’t come here to look at Wanted posters. We’re here to find our poor car . . .”
“But,” said Bertie. “But the notice says that anybody who recognises . . .”
The policeman was now returning to the front desk.
“Your car has not been towed,” he said. “So if you’d like to tell me when you last saw it and where it was when you last saw it.”
“We’ve just see that pho . . .” Bertie began, but was interrupted by Irene.
“Now then,” she said loudly. “When did we last see the car, Bertie? Can you put on your little thinking cap? When did Mummy park the car up at the top of Scotland Street?”
Bertie scratched his head. “Last week, I think. Yes, Mummy, Truth and Truth-Telling in Gayfield Square 63
it was last week. Daddy was out drinking, remember, and you . . .”
“Last week,” interrupted Irene. “Yes, last week. And, Bertie, Daddy does not go out drinking, as you put it. Daddy had gone to meet somebody from the office and it just so happened it was in the Cumberland Bar. It was a working meeting.” She smiled at the policeman. “Honestly! Out of the mouths of babes . . .”
The policeman looked at Bertie and winked. “So it was last week some time?”
“Yes,” said Irene. “I think it was Tuesday. Yes, it was Tuesday.”
“So it was stolen some time after Tuesday but