Gregory's Game (7 page)

Tess nodded again. ‘I see.'

She made sure she had the professor's home number and his work extension and then left.

‘What did you make of the younger one? Nathan?' Vinod asked as they got back into the car.

‘Why? Apart from the fact that he was very pretty.'

Vinod laughed. ‘More your area of expertise than mine,' he said. ‘I don't know, he seemed … odd.'

Tess shrugged. ‘I don't think they're going to be much help, anyway,' she said. ‘It might be worth talking to the wife; she's obviously the practical one.'

Vin nodded. ‘Is it worth getting our colleagues in Suffolk involved?'

‘I think it can wait until she gets back. Any news on next of kin yet?'

Vin shook his head. ‘The man we thought was a brother turned out to be an old work colleague who just happened to have the same surname. He reckoned Palmer may have had a half-sister, but can't tell us any more. We'll just have to hope someone comes forward now the name's been released.'

‘
Local sources report that the tenant of the house was a Mr Anthony Palmer
,' she quoted. ‘I'd like to wring
local sources
' neck, but you're right, we'll just have to see who comes looking.'

Ian Marsh slumped back into his chair and looked across at Nathan. ‘That was not fun.'

‘I think the police just have that effect on people,' he said. ‘You'd best phone Kat, better she hears about this from you as soon as possible.'

Ian heaved himself out of the chair. ‘You're right,' he said. ‘I'll do it now. Want to make some more tea?'

‘Will do.'

‘Oh and I picked up some post as I came in. I think there was one for you.'

‘Thanks,' Nathan said. He frowned thoughtfully as Ian went off to make his phone call. He'd not used Ian's address as a contact for a long time. When he'd still been travelling a lot, he'd often given his old friend's address as a place to send mail, knowing Kat and Ian would keep letters safe for him. Later, he'd kept the habit when he wanted somewhere neutral for his mail to go to, but not in the past year.

He wandered through to the hall to pick up the letters. Ian was chatting to Kat in his study and Nathan carried the letters through into the kitchen and filled the kettle again. He spread the letters on the table and fished out the one addressed to him.

Nathan Crow. c/o Professor Ian Marsh
.

It had, he realized, been forwarded from the house on Church Lane.

Gripped by a feeling of foreboding, Nathan opened the envelope. It contained just a single photograph, taken somewhere that was definitely not England, probably not even Europe. At first glance, he recognized only one person in the picture.

Slipping the photograph back into the envelope he studied the date and postmark. Marseille, just over a week ago …

Hearing Ian come out of the study he shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket and turned his attention to the kettle. ‘How about I take you to the local pub for dinner?' he suggested. ‘I'll bet you've got nothing in the house.'

‘Nothing I can be bothered to cook,' Ian agreed. ‘That sounds like a perfect idea.'

‘How did Kat take it?'

‘Upset, of course, and she's going on the Internet to try and find out more than I could tell her. I think she'll come back on Wednesday. I think the family bonding thing is becoming a bit too much of a good thing.'

Nathan smiled and nodded. In his pocket the envelope seemed to burn.

N
aomi volunteered twice weekly at the local advice centre. She'd been doing that since a couple of months after leaving hospital. Her knowledge of the law had made her useful and her willingness to train up on welfare benefits and unemployment legislation made her doubly so. She sometimes thought that, once people had got over the shock, the fact that she couldn't see them actually made it easier for some to talk.

She knew she was doing a good job; knew she was useful; knew she helped to solve a lot of problems for a lot of people – which made it even harder when she realized she could do nothing to help Alec.

Her usual taxi driver, George Mallard, noticed she was quiet as he drove her home from her Monday session.

‘How's that man of yours getting on now?' he asked.

George, Naomi thought, was unerring in his ability to pinpoint the very thing she didn't want to discuss.

‘He's fine,' she said. ‘Well, fine-ish. I think now he's feeling better he's at a bit of a loose end. He's talked about going back to university, or retraining for something.'

‘Well, he's a bright bloke,' George said. ‘I'm sure he could do anything he set his mind to.' He laughed. ‘Just as long as it's not taxi driving. That's my area of expertise.'

‘You know,' Naomi said, ‘I think that's about the only thing he's not considered.'

George pulled up and got out to help her as he always did, bending to pet Napoleon before checking she had all her bags and was all right going in on her own.

‘I'm fine, George. See you Thursday?'

‘Be me or the lad,' he said, referring to his son – still ‘the lad' despite being well into his thirties.

Naomi smiled, thanked him and allowed Napoleon to lead her up the steps and into the shared hall, then on up the stairs to their flat. She had the sense that Alec was absent even before they reached the door. Fumbling for her key, she let herself in and then called out. ‘Alec. We're home. You OK?'

Silence. Emptiness. ‘Okaay.'

She released Napoleon's harness, heard his feet on the wooden floor heading for the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of him slurping at his water bowl. So Alec was definitely not there then. Had he been, Napoleon would have gone to say hello before heading for the kitchen. She crossed to the little table by the bay window. Beside the phone, they kept a small, digital recorder. Alec had bought it for them to leave messages on should either of them ever have to go out unexpectedly. She pressed play. Alec's voice. ‘Hi, love. I won't be long, but I'm just going to have coffee with Tess.'

That was it. No sense of how long he'd be or when he had gone, only the unmistakable sense that he'd been happy, excited even. The depression that had dulled his voice these past weeks seemed to have lifted.

‘Fine,' Naomi said. Trying hard not to mind but minding terribly ‘If that's what he wants well two of us can play that game.'

She wondered if she could call her taxi back again. Would George Mallard already be on another call? She could go and see Harry … except he'd still be at work and Patrick would be off at uni. Her sister? No, she'd be out on the school run. Who else?

Naomi flopped down in the nearest chair knowing that really she wasn't in the mood to go and see anyone. It was just the suddenness of it. For weeks now, she'd barely left Alec's side and he'd not wanted to go anywhere. It had, she reflected guiltily, been a relief to get back to her twice-weekly volunteering. It had been a break from the intensity of Alec's depression; Alec's lack of motivation. And now, what really hurt was that someone else seemed to have motivated him instead of her. It just wasn't fair. Suddenly overwhelmed by it all, Naomi buried her face in her hands and cried.

I
t had been a while since Alec had seen DI Tess Fuller. She had, he felt, been surprised by his call, but had invited him to meet her at work, promising ten minutes for a coffee.

It felt strange, Alec thought, to be a stranger in a place where he'd once had status and authority. Not at this police HQ, but as part of the same system. He'd been allowed to go past the front desk and up the stairs to the second floor, then someone had met him and directed Alec to wait at the end of the corridor, where a makeshift seating area provided just a modicum of comfort. The offices were more or less open plan, Alec noted, with glass partitions on to the corridor to make the most of the natural light from the windows beyond. He could see Tess through the glass, on the other side of the office, talking to a man in uniform and a woman with a fat folder. She looked no different, Alec thought. Small and pixie like, in tailored black trousers and a light blue top. He knew she used her small size and slight figure to throw people off balance. They too often made the assumption of fragility when that was quite the opposite of the truth. Alec wondered what he was doing here. If he'd really wanted to catch up with his old friend there were many other opportunities he could have taken. And then there was the other why – why was he choosing to catch up with Tess, when there were other colleagues, people he really had been close to in his working life, that he'd all but shunned since leaving the force?

She's still as pretty, Alec thought. But so was Naomi. There had been a time when he and Tess … when there might have been … But that was long ago and in another place. He didn't really want to rekindle something that hadn't really even got past a kiss or two. Did he?

Alec sighed. The truth was, he thought, that it wasn't really Tess that had brought him here; it was a combination of Tess and the case she was working. It had woken him from the stupor in which he'd existed for the past weeks. It was the first thing that had actually broken through the fog. Sitting in the uncomfortable, low-backed chair at the end of the glass-lined corridor, Alec felt a sudden and acute pang of guilt for that fact. Nothing Naomi or their friends had done in the past couple of months had excited him, had motivated him, and now … Did it really take the fact of someone dying to elicit a response?

Just what had he come to?

Alec almost rose and left the building but Tess must have spotted him and he saw her weaving between the desks, heading in his direction. She was smiling.

Alec's heart skipped.

‘Alec. What a surprise to hear from you.' She gripped his hand briefly and then released it and glanced at her watch. ‘I'm sorry, I can spare you ten minutes, then I've got a briefing. What can I do for you?'

He shook his head, suddenly awkward. ‘Nothing, really. I just saw you on the television and I thought, it's been a long time. You know?'

She laughed. ‘Let's sit.' She indicated the uncomfortable seats at the end of the hall. ‘The coffee in the machine is probably better than the coffee in the office,' she said. ‘Can I get you …?'

‘No, no, I'm fine.' She was keeping him in the public area, Alec realized. He was suddenly and deeply hurt.

‘I heard you resigned. I never thought you'd be the one to go.'

‘It felt like time.'

‘And is it working out? What are you doing with yourself?'

‘Oh, you know. Naomi and I, we took some time out to travel a bit, catch up with old friends.' He laughed awkwardly. ‘It felt like I'd taken years of missed holidays all in one go.'

‘Oh, missed holidays,' Tess sympathized. ‘Days off in lieu that you never actually get. I've lost count of the unpaid hours this place has had. I heard you had an accident? Are you all right now?'

‘I'm doing OK. My arm took the devil's own time to heal, but I had the plaster off last week. I've just got to have regular physio for a while. It hurts like hell if I drive too far.'

She nodded. ‘Well that's good then.'

Tess of old would have demanded details, Alec thought. The Tess he had known would have made sure she knew all about it anyway, would probably have visited him in hospital, or at least sent a card or something.

But that was then, he thought, and now she was trying not to look at her watch, or back through the glass partitions to where she really wanted to be instead of out here talking to an erstwhile colleague now turned civilian.

‘Um, this new case? Sounds …'

‘Um, messy. But, you know, early days and all that. So how's Naomi?'

‘Oh, she's fine. We moved back into her old flat, just while we find something we actually want, long term. You'll have to—'

‘Yes, I will. Be good to have a proper catch up. I'll call you.' She was openly glancing at her watch, even though her ten-minute allocation was far from up. ‘Alec, I'm really sorry, but …'

‘No, it's fine,' he said and found that he was actually relieved. It had been a mistake to come. A bad mistake. He walked with her back to the glass door and then continued down the corridor. At the head of the stairs he glanced back, but Tess was already absorbed in conversation and Alec felt himself forgotten.

You really can't go back, he told himself as he made his way down the stairs and passed out through the front office. He was a stranger, not just to this place, which had never been his domain, but to the job, to former colleagues, to a life he had lived most of his adult life. Worse, he felt as though he was a stranger to himself.

The desk sergeant buzzed him through and nodded agreeably. Alec nodded back and stepped out into the busy street. For a brief moment, yesterday, he had felt the old Alec resurface. The old interests piqued and his brain begin to work again. Now he felt himself sink lower than ever.

Empty, numb, Alec got into his car and headed for home.

Patrick really tried to focus on the lecture, but he'd lost the thread some ten minutes in and was now thoroughly mystified. Why the hell had he chosen to do a module on modern architecture, anyway? They had been urged, at enrolment, to try to choose their optional modules from subjects that were unfamiliar, but Patrick had known from the first week that he'd made a mistake. It wasn't lack of interest; it was more that the majority of students on the module were strangers to him and not just in the sense that he didn't know them. Architecture students were not like art students, Patrick decided.

His mind kept drifting back to the weekend and his meeting with Gregory on the Friday afternoon. He had talked about it with Harry that weekend, wondering, like Harry, exactly what the visit meant. In the end, like his father, Patrick had decided that what would come would come and there was little sense in worrying about it and he had gone back to his painting. The odd thing was, Gregory continued to intrude. Without intending to, Patrick found that he had given Gregory's face to one of the figures in his townscape. The grotesques Patrick had sketched in the café peered down into the street and the man looked back. He was carrying Patrick's bag, just as he had on the Friday afternoon, but in Gregory's hands it looked even more crammed and full and awkward and Patrick realized suddenly that Harry must have noticed what he'd been doing these past weeks, carrying an increasing number of his possessions around with him in an effort to feel secure.