Why Aren't They Screaming? (19 page)

Loretta heaved open the door of the phone box and peered inside, wrinkling up her nose as the smell of stale urine assailed her. She was glad she hadn't come on this errand the night before; the kiosk was in a lonely spot on the main road past the air base. Propping open the door with one foot so she could breathe fresh air, she looked to see what coins she needed. The box was an old-fashioned one – although she had several twenty-pence pieces and one fifty in her purse, the only slot that hadn't been blocked up was for tens. Loretta had four of these, and hoped Bailey would be in his office. Or should she wait a little longer? She looked at her watch: nine fifteen. Surely he'd be there by now, she thought impatiently. He was in charge of a murder inquiry, after all. She decided to risk it.

‘Hello, can I speak to Chief Inspector Bailey?'

She waited a moment while the switchboard operator tried an extension. A man's voice answered.

‘Sergeant Gorringe.'

‘Is Chief Inspector Bailey there? It's about the murder. The Wolstonecroft murder,' she added, suddenly realizing Bailey might be dealing with more than one.

‘Mr Bailey's in London today, miss. Can I help you?'

‘Oh.' Loretta was crestfallen. During a restless night she had cheered herself up by imagining the expression on Bailey's face as he listened to the tape recording which was at present sitting safely in her shoulder-bag. Now she had been robbed – if only temporarily – of her triumph. She wondered whether to explain the whole business to the sergeant, and decided against it.

‘No. Can I leave a message? That Dr Lawson would like to speak to him.'

‘OK, miss. Does he know where to contact him?'

‘Who?'

‘Dr Lawson.'

‘
I'm
Dr Lawson.'

‘Oh,
you're
–' The sergeant's voice was cut off by the pips. Loretta's hand hovered over the coin slot, then drew back. Why waste her last couple of coins on this ridiculous conversation? She pressed down the rest, listened for the change in tone, and dialled a London number. After a couple of rings she heard a click.

‘Hi, this is John Tracey's answering machine. I'm not here at the moment, so why not leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as –' The rest was cut off by the signal for more money. Exasperated, Loretta put the phone down. Then, having second thoughts, she picked it up again and dialled 100 for the operator. A man's voice answered and she asked to make a transferred charge call to the
Sunday Herald.
When she got through, Tracey's extension rang and rang without reply. Loretta was about to put the phone down when someone picked it up. To her relief, she heard Tracey's voice.

‘Thank God! You can't imagine the trouble I'm having with phones this morning –'

‘Well, you're lucky to get me at all this time in the morning. I'm only in early ‘cause I've got to go through a pile of documents before I see someone for lunch. Where are you speaking from?' Arriving early at the office obviously wasn't good for Tracey's temper.

‘Haven't a clue,' Loretta said quickly. ‘I'm on a country road near Clara's house. Listen, have you got a moment?'

‘You'll have to make it quick. I've got a stack of documents a mile high... Is it important?'

‘I think so.' Making her account as concise as possible, Loretta told Tracey how the tape had come into her possession and she'd recognized its contents.

‘You all right, Loretta? You're not making this up?'

‘Of course not!'

‘OK, but it does sound a bit far-fetched. People are always ringing up with stories about their houses being burgled and
their phones tapped, and the next thing you know they're telling you it's because they're personal friends of Queen Victoria.'

‘I don't think that's very funny.'

‘It's not –' Tracey's words became inaudible as two fighters roared overhead in close formation. ‘Christ, what was that?'

‘Planes from the base, F1-11s I should think. At least you know I haven't made them up!'

‘All right, but what d'you expect me to do? I've told you, you shouldn't get involved. Why not take this tape to the police?'

Loretta explained that Bailey was in London for the day. ‘And I can't just do nothing. I thought you could make a few inquiries for me – you've got contacts with ‘those sort of people.'

‘What sort?'

‘You know, spies.' Tracey had pulled off a considerable journalistic coup the year before when he'd exposed several Eastern bloc agents working in sensitive positions in West Germany. At that time, and since, he'd conveyed the impression he was really rather well connected in the intelligence world. ‘You could ask around for me, see whether anyone knows about the Americans doing this sort of thing.'

‘I thought you disapproved. You weren't very complimentary about my story from Berlin last year.'

‘All right, but that doesn't mean I don't want to find out what's going on here. Please, John.'

Tracey gave a deep sigh. ‘I'm not promising anything. The guys I know are Brits, not American. I can't just ring up Five and ask if they know what covert ops the Yanks have been running near their own bases.'

‘Sorry, you've lost me. What's Five? And what are ops?' Loretta was irritated; Tracey habitually adopted this type of jargon when talking about his intelligence contacts.

‘Come on, Loretta.' Tracey had dropped his voice and sounded ill at ease. ‘It doesn't do to discuss these things over the phone.'

‘You just told me that people who think their phones are tapped are loonies.'

‘I didn't mean my end – look, leave it with me and I'll make a few inquiries. But I don't hold out much hope. Even if you're right and the Yanks are up to something, I very much doubt whether anyone'll admit it.'

‘Thanks, John.' In spite of his short temper, Tracey could usually be relied on. ‘When shall I call back? This afternoon?'

‘I shouldn't think there's a snowball's chance in hell that I'll know anything by then. But if you like. If it keeps you out of mischief.'

Loretta put down the phone and stepped out of the box, glad to leave its lavatory stench behind her. She got into her car and headed back towards Keeper's Cottage, cheered by the thought that she hadn't just let things lie. She stopped the car in the road next to the cottage, got out and opened the wooden gates, then parked neatly in front of the cottage. She locked the driver's door, turning towards Baldwin's to see if anyone had returned to the house – the police making more checks, or Jeremy Frere. As she did so, she caught sight of someone on the lawn below the house. Shading her eyes against the morning sun, she knew the man was familiar without first realizing who he was. Then, as he walked towards her, she recognized Colin Kendall-Cole. He was dressed much more casually than on the occasion of their first meeting, in an old sports jacket with worn leather patches on the elbows.

‘Morning. It's Dr Lawson, isn't it?'

Loretta stared at him. ‘That's right.' She was taken aback by his recollecting her name. Since Tuesday night she'd built him up into an ogre in her mind – the sort of man who'd deliberately serve South African wine at his dinner parties. Now they were unexpectedly face to face again, and he was regarding her with a questioning smile, she found herself nonplussed.

‘I hope you're feeling better. Terrible business, Tuesday night.'

‘Yes. Yes, it was.'

‘By the way.' He paused. ‘I gather I upset you a bit. I wanted to apologize – tongue was a bit unguarded. Just goes to show – one thinks one's in control all the time, but a thing
like that...' He sighed and shook his head. ‘I can't imagine what came over me, flinging accusations about like that. I'm sorry.' He gave her an open, frank look and Loretta felt even more uncomfortable.

‘I – well, I suppose we were all rather upset. Did you get to your meeting? Yesterday morning?'

‘Meeting? Oh yes, yes I did. Don't think I contributed much, but at least I didn't let the old man down. I'm afraid you wouldn't approve, it was about the base. The minister wanted to discuss this bill of mine.' He gave her an apologetic smile and looked back towards Baldwin's. ‘I actually called to see Jeremy,' he added, changing the subject. ‘Wanted to offer my condolences. But there's no one in.'

‘The police were there till quite late last night,' Loretta explained. ‘I think he's staying somewhere in the village, the Green Man maybe. He'll probably be back soon – the police seem to have finished.'

Colin looked at the gold watch on his left wrist. ‘I wonder if I should hang on for half an hour? I'd like to see him, poor chap.'

Loretta hesitated, wondering if she'd detected a hint that Colin would like to wait in the cottage. Extending an invitation was much against her inclination, but his apology had left her feeling guilty. As the silence between them lengthened, she decided she had no choice.

‘Would you like to come in for a coffee? I was just going to make some.'

‘That's very kind.' He responded with alacrity. ‘You're sure I'm not disturbing you?'

‘No, don't worry.' Resigned to making small talk for the next half hour, Loretta unlocked the front door and led the way inside. Colin followed, then stopped on the threshold.

‘Well, well! This is rather a change! Joe and I used to play here when we were kids, this place was falling to pieces then. They've made a pretty good job of it, I must say. Joe's Clara's elder brother,' he added, seeing the question in Loretta's eyes. ‘I haven't been inside since it was done up. Didn't that Aga used to be in Baldwin's?'

‘I've no idea, I'm sorry. Take a seat. Would you rather have tea?'

‘What?' Colin pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, settling the battered old briefcase he was carrying by his feet. ‘Oh, whatever you're having. Don't go to any trouble. Poor old Joe, this must have hit him hard. D'you know him?'

‘No, but then I hardly knew Clara. She's a friend of a friend. I just happened to borrow the cottage for a few weeks.' She poured a handful of beans into the coffee grinder.

‘I see. When did you move in?'

‘Saturday. Four – no, five days ago. Though it feels like ages.' She decided against explaining that she hadn't spent many nights in the cottage.

‘And your friend – Peggy. How long had she been staying with Clara?'

‘The same. But that was a coincidence. Clara brought her over from the ... peace camp, after what happened on Friday night.'

‘And there's been no news of her?'

‘Not as far as I know,' Loretta said stiffly, wishing Colin would change the subject. The peace camp, and Peggy, were subjects on which they were unlikely to agree, so why keep picking at them like a scab?

‘And you didn't know –'

Colin's next question, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by a knock on the front door. Relieved, Loretta went to open it and found Jeremy Frere standing outside.

‘Oh, hello, I just came to let you know I've finally – Colin! What are you doing here?'

Behind her, Colin was getting to his feet.

‘I'm truly, truly sorry.' Colin clasped Jeremy's right hand in both of his for a moment. ‘Such a loss ... I came over to offer my condolences on the off-chance you were here. Connie sends hers, too. Not that words are much use at a time like this...'

‘That's very decent of you, Colin. And Connie, too. Tell her I was asking after her, won't you?'

‘Dr Lawson here very kindly offered to make some coffee,' Colin said, turning to Loretta.

Her heart sank. She had been hoping that Jeremy would take Colin off to Baldwin's, but now it looked as though she would be stuck with both of them. Colin's mention of Peggy
had started an idea in her mind, and she wanted time to think it over. But good manners required her to extend her offer of refreshment to Jeremy. He accepted with alacrity, and settled himself into a chair.

Loretta transferred the ground coffee to the
cafetière,
and waited for the kettle to boil. Colin was asking Jeremy about the funeral arrangements for Clara, which gave her a moment's grace. Why had Chief Inspector Bailey gone to London? At the time of her phone call to the police station, she had been so anxious to speak to Bailey about the tape that his absence for the day had struck her only as inconvenient. But as soon as Colin raised the subject of Peggy the obvious question had occurred to her: was the detective's trip connected with the missing girl? Or was she missing? Had Bailey gone to London because Peggy had turned up, safe and sound, to announce that she'd left the house on Tuesday afternoon, hours before the murder? But in that case, Bailey would hardly have gone to the trouble of interviewing her himself. Perhaps there'd been a sighting of Mick? Or even an identification, because of his singular tattoo?

‘Sorry?' She realized both men were looking at her.

‘I was just asking if you need any help,' said Colin, gesturing to a point behind her. She turned, and found the kettle boiling fiercely. She filled the
cafetière,
carried it to the table, and set out three cups and saucers.

‘Any biscuits?' Jeremy asked hopefully, watching her pour out. She went silently to a cupboard, took out the opened packet of chocolate digestives, and plonked them on the table in front of Jeremy. She was about to sit down when there was another knock at the front door.

‘You're popular this morning,' Jeremy said facetiously.

Loretta skirted the table and opened the door again. Two men she didn't recognize were waiting outside.

‘Sorry to trouble you, miss.' One of them flashed a warrant card towards her. ‘I wondered if you'd seen Mr Frere this morning. We tried the pub, and they said he was coming back to the house.'