Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [46]
There was to be no time for a shower.
“That’s the bell,” said Irene. “Would you answer it, Stuart?
You’re closest.”
Stuart went to the front door and opened it. Two burly policemen, radios pinned to their jackets and belts weighed down Schadenfreude
95
by truncheons, stood on the doorstep. Stuart looked at them in surprise. Had Bertie been up to some sort of mischief? Surely not. Irene . . . ? For a brief moment he felt fear brush its wings against him. Yesterday was the day that Irene had gone to report the theft of their car, and she had lied. She had lied to the police. A quinquennium within, just punishment? he thought: five years inside.
“Mr Pollock?”
He felt the relief flood within him. They did not want her; they wanted him, and he had never lied to the police. His voice sounded high-pitched when he answered. “Yes. That’s me.”
“Your car, sir,” said the policeman. “We’ve found it.”
Stuart smiled. “Really? That’s very good of you. Quick work.”
The policeman nodded. “Yes. We found it this morning, up in Oxgangs. It was parked by the side of a road. It would seem that whoever took it had abandoned it.”
“I’m surprised,” said Stuart. “It’s a nice car . . .”
“Old cars like that are often abandoned,” went on the policeman. “Not worth keeping.”
“I see.”
The senior policeman took out a notebook. “Perhaps you can explain, though, sir,” he said. “Perhaps you can explain why, when we searched this vehicle, we found a firearm hidden under the driver’s seat? Perhaps you have something to say about that?”
Stuart was vaguely conscious of the fact that Bertie had slipped into the corridor and was standing immediately behind him. Now Bertie stepped forward and tugged at his father’s sleeve.
“Tell him, Daddy,” said Bertie. “Tell him about how we got that car from Mr O’Connor. Tell him about how we can tell that it’s not really our car at all.”
“Not now, Bertie,” whispered Stuart. “Go and finish your scales.”
The policemen looked keenly at Bertie. “What’s that, son?”
one asked. “What do you mean when you say that it wasn’t your car?”
96
Bertie Makes His Statement
“It wasn’t,” said Bertie. “Our car had five gears. That one had four. It was a car which Mr O’Connor gave us.”
“Interesting,” said the senior policeman. “A Mr O’Connor gave you a car. Then a firearm is found in it which I imagine you’re going to say you know nothing about.”
“I don’t,” said Stuart. “I had no idea.”
“It must have belonged to this Mr O’Connor then?” asked the policeman.
“Yes,” said Bertie. “It must be his. Or his friend Gerry’s.”
The senior policeman smiled. “I think I’d like to ask a few questions,” he said, adding, and looking at Bertie as he spoke,
“from you first.”
31. Bertie Makes His Statement
“Now then, Bertie,” said the policeman, as he took his seat in the kitchen. “When we talk to youngsters we like to check up that they know the difference between the truth and . . .”
He was cut short by Irene. “Of course Bertie knows the difference,” she snapped. “He’s a very advanced . . .”
The policeman glowered at her. “Excuse me, Mrs Pollock,”
he said. “I’m talking to this young man, not to you.”
Irene opened her mouth to say something more, but was gestured to by Stuart, who raised a finger to his lips.
“Thank you,” said the policeman. “Now then, Bertie, do you know what I mean when I say that you must tell the truth?”
Bertie, perched on the edge of his chair, nodded gravely. “Yes,”
he said. “I know the difference. I know that you mustn’t tell fibs, although Mummy . . .” He was about to point out that Irene told a whole series of fibs at the police station, but decided that it would be impolitic, and he stopped himself.
“Well,” said the policeman. “Perhaps you’d care to tell us about your car. Is it your car, or is it somebody else’s?”
“Well, really . . .” snorted Irene, only to be silenced by a warning look from the policeman.
Bertie Makes His Statement
97