Spanish Inquisition (7 page)

He gave a sour smile. ‘At a time when innocent people should be in bed, an amazing number are out and about. The witness to this car-jacking himself admitted to taking a walk to calm himself down after watching the late night movie on Saturdays, so whoever took the car could have had God knows what under way. If, however, it was tied in with Norton that person is a strong suspect for the assault on her. If it was a further move to implicate Piercey we need to investigate in greater depth.

‘All in all, I think we can safely reckon this mystery man is living on the base, his ability to move around here in the early hours making that a safe assumption. His knowledge of the layout of an establishment the size of this one strengthens it. Unless he's also gone AWOL we need to get a definite ID on him.'

Heather had been sitting restlessly throughout this summary and now seized the opportunity to say what was on her mind. ‘Whatever the reason for taking the vehicle we can surely narrow the identity field somewhat. Chummy could also have witnessed Phil drive up and enter the Mess, in which case he's living in the same block as Jimmy James and would have a clear sight of the mess parking area from his window. Alternatively, he could have arrived there in his own car which he parked around the corner out of sight. If so, our pal from HQ would surely have noticed a vehicle parked in an unlikely place when he took his early morning walk. He needs to be questioned on that.'

Tom nodded. ‘And a few others, such as how come he saw the Audi being backed out and driven away, but not who was at the wheel? You can chase him up this afternoon.'

Turning to Connie, he said, ‘Give Norton's car a thorough search for anything that gives a clue to places she visits in town, phone numbers of people she regularly contacts, evidence of drugs, any clue to who Chummy might be. I'm going to tackle Bill Jensen. Get his version of what happened after the party on Saturday night, and the details of what else was taking place at the Centre when rehearsals for
Carmen
were under way.'

Several minutes later he was alone with Piercey. ‘I want you to set up the usual alerts for AWOL personnel. Norton cleverly transferred to a taxi outside the main gate so that her vehicle reg number couldn't be put on the system, but enter her description and warn all exit points to look out for her. Contact all local taxi firms. Find out where she was dropped off and if she was met by someone who was waiting for her. If there's a sighting of her let me know pronto.'

Taking up his car keys, Tom hesitated before saying, ‘Your present status quo is tricky, but I'll do what I can to make it as elastic as possible.'

Piercey nodded slowly. ‘Thanks, sir . . . and I apologize for what I said to you earlier.'

‘No need. There was an element of truth in it.'

Bill Jensen was not in his office just inside the main door of the large Recreation Centre, so Tom began a search of all the rooms. The first contained several rows of very pregnant women lying flat on rush mats while harp music soothed them. In the next were pre-school children wearing protective overalls splashed with as much paint as the sheets of paper in front of them.

Further along the corridor women dressed in coloured brassiere tops and gaudy skirts were being instructed in belly dancing. Tom shuddered at the sight of a couple of them whose belly could dance without any encouragement. As the Turkish music faded, he came upon a group of four earnest-looking women engrossed in a lecture which the blackboard proclaimed to be on the subject of creative writing.

Of course, daytime use of the Centre was mostly by women and children. Evening functions would be less gender-orientated. Tom smiled to himself at the thought of classes the men would be offered. Beer belly dancing? Creative sex? The correct way to eat Indian takeaways?

Having looked everywhere else in vain, Tom walked through to the theatre. He found his quarry backstage stowing stage costumes in large wicker hampers by little more than half light. Jensen caught sight of him and smiled.

‘Long time no see, Tom. Pity it has to be official, but I guessed you'd send someone along here before long.' Leaving his task, he approached waving his arm towards the exit. ‘Time for tea and biscuits, I reckon.'

‘In a minute, Bill. I want to get a clear assessment of this area. How many dressing rooms are there?'

The other man halted beside him and surveyed the narrow passage running behind the raised stage. ‘Six, all told. Four small ones and two a great deal larger for men and women in the chorus. The small ones are used according to what kind of show it is, and who's in it.' His frank brown gaze fastened on Tom. ‘Don Jose and Escamillo were content to share, but Carmen demanded her own space. Needed to be alone “to metamorphose into the role” before each performance.'

His tone betrayed his opinion of that affected concept. ‘Bit of a madam, was she?'

‘Tom, if your man hadn't lost his cool and belted her, there were a coupla others who would've.'

‘Anyone in particular?' he asked casually.

Jenson recognized what was happening and grew cautious. ‘Young Piercey went too far back here after the party. Entered her dressing room while she was changing and tried to pull her dress off. Ripped it. Fact, Tom.' He indicated the hampers. ‘It should be going back to the hire company with the rest, but you lot are keeping it for forensic examination. I'm not sure how to explain why I'm not returning it. These costumes cost a hell of a lot to hire. I guess I'll have to rob the kitty to pay for a replacement.'

‘Were you back here when it happened? You saw Piercey do it?'

Jensen's mouth pursed knowingly. ‘Closing ranks?'

‘How much of what went on after the party were you witness to?'

After short hesitation, Jensen said, ‘Let's have that cuppa in my office, Tom,' and headed determinedly in that direction, passing the Turkish dancing, the painting toddlers and expectant mothers before entering his own domain and filling an electric kettle.

Busy pouring milk into two large mugs, he asked over his shoulder, ‘You have evidence that puts him in the clear?'

‘We have evidence that much of what Norton says is untrue.' Tom had no intention of revealing the state of play in the case. ‘It throws doubt on her general veracity.'

Still with his back turned, Jensen came back with, ‘I personally wouldn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth. Lives in a fantasy world. One in which she's entitled to public worship.' He turned to hand over a mug of tea. ‘Mind you, she could sing as well as act. Had a voice to put a tingle up a man's spine.'

‘Yours, too?'

‘Hey, hey! My wife's a ballet teacher, and we're both considerably involved with the Arts,' he said robustly. ‘Don't group me with youngsters who're only considerably involved with
sex
. I gave that opinion as a member of the local municipal choir. I know a good mezzo when I hear one.'

Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘What is it with all these soldiers who're suddenly bursting into song?'

Jensen grinned at him over his mug. ‘Come on, Tom, troops have through the ages expressed their feelings with a lusty sing-song. Don't tell me you've never bellowed a vulgar chorus to Colonel Bogey.'

‘I sure as hell didn't send tingles up men's spines.' He sipped the scalding tea. ‘Tell me what happened prior to locking up on Saturday, Bill. What you
actually
saw and heard.'

Jensen sat on a scruffy swivel chair, putting his mug on the bench beside him. ‘I spent as much as fifteen minutes persuading loiterers to leave. The celebrations were well and truly over an hour after midnight, but a couple of lads with what looked like schoolgirls done up to seem ten years older were still hanging around by the front row. I told them twice to get going, but they just moved several rows back.'

‘Where was Carmen at this time?'

‘Still soaking up flattery and red wine up on the stage, with a trio of guys all of whom looked typical likely lads. Your man was hanging around in the wings, waiting for them to go. Both he and La Norton were still in their stage costumes, so I decided enough was enough and called out that I would be locking the place in fifteen minutes flat, so they'd better get changed pdq.'

‘Then what?'

‘Norton kissed each of her admirers and pushed them provocatively towards the steps leading down to the auditorium. She then left the stage by the rear steps to reach her dressing room. When I glanced in the wings Piercey was no longer there, so I assumed they were both obeying my instruction to get into their own clothes.'

‘But they didn't.'

‘No. Anyway, I again chivvied the guys with the schoolgirls. Their response was the typical “Yeah, yeah,” and I heard one of the girls suggest going to her place because her dad was away and her mum got lonely. It was at that point that I moved to the back of the auditorium intending to check that no one was using other areas for a bit of nookie. That's when I heard Norton shouting and screaming rape. She was clinging to one of the guys and creating merry hell.'

He sighed heavily. ‘Time I got down to where she was making the melodramatic most of the situation, the guys were arguing about giving Phil Piercey what for. I saw that her dress was torn, and she kept insisting that he tried to strip her. I headed for the dressing rooms, but there was no one there. I guessed he'd skipped out through the stage door, which only opens from inside. I was glad of that. Last thing I wanted was a heavy set-to. Men fighting over a woman. Fool's game, that.'

Tom nodded his agreement. He had seen it happen often enough to know it rarely solved anything, and often brought misery.

‘Well, when I arrived back out front Carmen was alone and looking perfectly composed. I heard the others out in the corridor, making for the exit, so I suggested she grabbed her things and got going too, telling her she should bring the torn costume back in the morning, because I intended to lock up right away. She went backstage saying she must just make a quick call before leaving.'

He shook his head in a bemused gesture. ‘A few minutes later I went round to the dressing rooms to hurry her up only to find she'd gone out the same way Piercey had. The stage door was open and swinging in the wind. I was bloody annoyed. No word of thanks or farewell.'

Tom could imagine the chagrin. ‘Were there any cars outside when you left?'

‘Just mine. She'd bloody gone with the wind, mate.'

‘Right.' He finished his tea in one gulp. ‘Thanks, Bill. We'll need a written statement from you later, so keep the facts clear in your memory.'

‘In case I'm lying?'

‘No. It's pretty damn obvious who's lying in this affair. I'll leave you to finish packing away the stage costumes, but I'd like a copy of the list of classes held in the Centre on the same night of the week that rehearsals for
Carmen
took place.'

Jensen looked askance at him. ‘I see why you want it, but I tell you now you're going up a creek without a paddle there. Your man Piercey was so enmeshed by that woman you'll never cut him free. It was him, Tom, take my word.'

M
ax arrived early at the inn in case Clare managed to get away before the time she had suggested, but he was still looking for her thirty minutes after her hoped-for ETA. Herr Blomfeld seemed more concerned by her tardiness, and Max began to be irritated by the man's fussing which drove him to seek the peace of the garden bordering the river.

A full moon silvered the smooth water gliding past the wooden tables and benches so well used on summer evenings by local diners, who feasted in true Germanic style with laughter and song. Right now, the silence was broken only by the occasional splash as river creatures went about their nocturnal business. It suited Max's mood.

He had not seen Clare for five weeks and cursed this delay to the meeting he felt would surely tell him where they were heading now he was fully restored to fitness. His heart sank when his mobile began to vibrate in his pocket and he saw the caller was she.

‘There's been a multi-vehicle pile-up involving a tanker. It's horrendous, Max. We're likely to be involved here until the early hours. Don't wait up.'

He closed the phone and returned it to his pocket, recalling the first time he had brought Clare here. Their meal had been interrupted when a few hyped-up students had jumped into the river, and during their larking one had almost drowned. Max had gone in to rescue her and Clare had resuscitated her while Blomfeld had called an ambulance. Clare had then spoken an undeniable truth. Doctors and policemen could never put aside what they were no matter where they might be.

Having stocked up with provisions after interviewing Piercey, Max decided that scrambled eggs at home would suffice. In his disappointment he drove away without informing Herr Blomfeld that he would not be using the reserved table.

The planned egg dish was swapped for a double-decker cheese, pickle and tomato sandwich accompanied by several whiskies. At midnight he got into bed. At twelve thirty he got out of it and peered from his window, knowing her car would not be there. He would have heard her drive up and slam the door.

He switched on the TV. A choice of some weird American horror film, or a programme featuring women with gigantic breasts and men with similarly outsized genitals who wanted surgery to make them manageable. Again, it was a US programme with dubbed German voices. Max switched the set off in frustration, feeling sorry for people on night shifts who had such a dire selection to help pass the time.

He went back to bed and was still awake at three o'clock when he heard Clare return. Unable to resist the impulse, he again peered from his window. Then he wished he had not. Climbing from the passenger seat was Major Duncan MacPherson, the Medical Officer of the Drumdorran Fusiliers whose left hand was heavily bandaged. It made sense that the two doctors would have attended the conference together, and the handsome Scot looked to have been hurt during the traffic accident. But not enough to have been hospitalized! Was it absolutely necessary for Clare to bring him to her flat for the night? All Max's earlier worries about MacPherson's interest in her returned to keep him awake until light began to filter through the curtains.