Dear Departed (35 page)

‘I believe it,’ he said firmly.

She pulled her head up and laughed, shakily. ‘Oh, religion!’

‘Well, what else is there at a time like this?’ he reasoned.

‘Don’t you realise, you jughead,’ she said kindly, ‘that I’m not a sweet young thing any more? I’m what they call an elderly primipara. Biologically I’m an old lady doing what only young girls should do. It’s an extremely risky business.’

‘Rubbish,’ he said. ‘Women of your age and older have babies every day of the week – first babies,’ he anticipated her interruption. ‘You’re perfectly healthy and so am I. Why should anything go wrong?’

‘Things do.’

‘Not as often as they don’t, by a very long chalk. You’re falling a victim to the very thing you despise: haven’t you said how wrong it was that doctors treat pregnancy as a serious illness?’

‘They do. That’s what this is all about.’

‘They try to, but you don’t have to listen. You don’t have to let them get to you. You’re not ill, you’re doing something natural that nearly every woman on the planet does at some point.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

He put her back a little to look at her seriously. ‘Do you really think that?’

‘No,’ she said, after a pause. ‘No, not really. I know you love me.’

‘It’s a bit more than that,’ he said. ‘I think your sauce is sticking.’

‘Blast,’ she said, and twisted out of his arms to stir it. He saw she had relaxed a little, given him a little of the burden to carry, and he was glad. ‘So what about this scan?’ she asked, in a small voice, her back to him.

‘I think you should have it,’ he said, after consideration. ‘Not because I think there’s anything wrong with the baby, but because if you don’t they’ll keep on bugging you about it and drive you nuts. But if you really don’t want to have it, then I’ll support you. I’ll write to them and tell them
we
don’t want it, and that if they send you any more letters about it I’ll come round and reprogram their computer with a very large axe.’

She laughed, turning her head to look at him adoringly. ‘My hero! What would I do without you? D’you want to go and get changed?
I’m going to put the water on so we’re looking at fifteen minutes to eating.’

She said no more about it that evening, and he thought she had put it from her mind for the time being. But in bed, when they had made love and she was lying in his arms and he was drifting comfortably into sleep, she said suddenly out of the dark, ‘If I have the scan, and there’s something wrong, what then?’

‘If that happened, we’d face it together and decide together. But it’s not going to happen. So don’t even think about it. Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.’

She turned on her side then, into her sleep position, and he turned too so that she could burrow into him backwards. He folded his hands round her, one on her breast and one on her belly, and felt her fall instantly into sleep like someone tumbling off a cliff. He held her, wakeful now, thinking of the two lives that lay in his arms; and from there to a whole range of preoccupations, his thoughts knitting and spreading an invisible web into the darkness, stretching wider and wider, thinning and growing more tenuous as the world turned through the short
summer night towards dawn. When the first bird sang tentatively outside in the blackness, he slept.

Cornfeld Chemicals had its headquarters in Hemel Hempstead, a neat, new-looking low-rise block set in nicely landscaped surroundings on the edge of the town. Slider was received by Henry Cornfeld at nine o’clock in an office that was as different as it could be from his son-in-law’s. It was small, lit from unshaded windows, cluttered with the business of business, and devoid of the accoutrements of glamour and power.

Cornfeld himself seemed to have aged since Slider saw him last. His movements were less brisk, his face seemed to have sagged;
even his hair did not spring from his forehead in so lively a fashion. But his mind still gripped. He offered Slider a chair and coffee, seated himself and said, ‘Have you found out yet who killed my child?’

‘Not yet, sir, but there are promising lines we are following up.’

‘That sounds like a stock answer,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you anything better for me than that? I am her father. I love her.’

‘I’m sorry. It sounds hackneyed, but it is the truth. We don’t know yet, but I think we are getting there. I can’t be more specific than that at the moment.’

‘But you promise you will tell me, as soon as you know.’ His eyes became piercing. ‘The moment you know.’

‘If you promise you won’t take the law into your own hands,’ said Slider.

He sat back a little and spread his hands. ‘I am an old man. What can I do?’

Neither had promised the other anything, and they both knew it.

‘You have some more questions for me?’ said Cornfeld.

‘Yes, sir. I don’t know whether they have any relevance or not, but I’m feeling my way at present. I wanted to ask you about the proposed takeover of your company by GCC.’

‘Oh, you know about that?’

‘Is it supposed to be a secret?’

‘It’s not meant to be public knowledge yet. However, these things always do get about, no-one knows how. Everyone swears they haven’t told a soul, but somehow people know.’

‘So it is still going on?’

‘Oh, yes. I have been in negotiation for many weeks now. These things take time.’

‘And how do you feel about it? Are you for it?’

He looked surprised. ‘Certainly, or I should not be in negotiation.’

‘Then – you’ve always been in favour? Forgive me, but has Chattie’s death made any difference to your attitude?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘From the beginning, when Global first contacted me, I felt it was the right thing to do. I am old, and it is time to pass on the baton. It was a good opportunity for me to leave my responsibilities behind while doing my best for my employees and the shareholders. The only difference Chattie’s death has made is that it has forced me to realise how old and tired I really am. I want to be done with it now.’ Steel entered his face again as he added, ‘But I shall drive a hard bargain, you may be sure. I’m not too old and tired for that.’ He eyed Slider. ‘You seem puzzled.’

‘It isn’t quite fitting in with what I was thinking.’

‘You thought I was unwilling to sell, and that killing Chattie was supposed to take the heart out of me and make me agree to it?’

‘You’re very shrewd,’ Slider said. ‘It was one of the lines I was working along. But obviously that’s not it.’

‘No,’ said Cornfeld. He looked bleak. ‘It’s true that I don’t want to go on now, but that hasn’t affected this deal in any way. Mine is a healthy, profitable company, with a proud history. We have done valuable work in our time, and produced some important benefits for the human community. I can look back on my life with pride – though this tragedy takes away the joy.’

‘That brings me to another question,’ Slider said. ‘Your mother mentioned, when I was talking to her at your house last week, that you have a new drug that’s about to come out, and that you are very excited about it. Can you tell me about that?’

The animation came back. ‘Yes, indeed! We have been working on it for a long time, and we’ve just completed the two years of statutory trials. All we have to do now is to secure the approval of the various regulatory bodies, and we can launch it on the world!’

‘And what is it? What does it do?’

‘It is something quite tremendous,’ he said, his eyes bright. He leaned forward across the desk to emphasise the excitement. ‘It is a treatment for acne.’

‘Acne?’ Slider said.

Cornfeld smiled and shook his head. ‘I can tell you don’t understand. Well, why should you? One can see you have never suffered from it. You think I’m talking about a few teenage spots. You have no idea of its ravages. You don’t know how many millions of lives are ruined by this disease. You can’t imagine how many billions of pounds are spent year after year on remedies that don’t work, or don’t work well enough, or have hideous side effects. Our product, Codermatol, works. It
really
works! It will benefit more people than you can imagine, allow them to come out of the shadows and live full lives. It is one of the most exciting and important breakthroughs of the last twenty years, the most important, I believe, that I have ever been personally involved in.’

‘I see,’ Slider said.

‘Do
you?’

‘I take your word for it, sir. You convince me. And this new drug – this is part of the sale, I take it? It goes with the company.’

‘Yes,’ said Cornfeld. ‘Naturally. That is partly why I am demanding such a high price. GCC knows that once it goes on the market, the share price will jump, so that must be reflected in the offer.’

‘And have you any idea when the deal will be concluded?’

‘Soon,’ he said. ‘Very soon. I anticipate the announcement will be made at the end of this week. I am only hanging on to receive the regulatory approval. I want that to come to me, as the crowning moment of my business life. Then I shall go. I shall take the money, and Kylie, and go abroad. I haven’t had a holiday in years. I intend,’ he said, with a look that dared Slider to mock, ‘to make a very expensive fool of myself in all the smartest resorts and casinos in the world. I intend to go out in a blaze of glory.’

Slider didn’t mock. He hoped very much that the old man would enjoy it; but he felt it was a hollow ambition and was afraid Cornfeld would find it a disappointment – and, moreover, that he knew it would be, even now at the planning stage.

*  *  *

Slider stood at the door of the CID room, looking round the bent heads.

Hart noticed him. ‘You’re back,’ she said.

‘Plus ten for observation. Who had the list of Chattie’s telephone calls?’

‘Andy,’ she said. ‘Shall I get it for you?’ She jumped up and went across to Mackay’s desk.

Slider wandered off into his room. Atherton followed him there. ‘I know that look,’ he said. ‘Did Daddy Cornfeld say something interesting?’

‘He’s
for
the takeover,’ Slider said. ‘He always was. Killing Chattie didn’t make any difference to his decision. He’s been in negotiation for weeks.’

‘Another damn fine theory hits the dust,’ said Atherton, scratching the back of his head. ‘So what does that leave us with?’

‘There’s something burrowing away at the back of my mind,’ said Slider.

‘Yes, I know, I just had that feeling,’ Atherton said, but Slider, frowning in thought, didn’t hear.

Mackay came in with the list. ‘You wanted this, guv? I was just getting a coffee.’

‘Yes, give it here.’ Slider sat at his desk and ran a finger up the list. Mackay had written against the numbers who the subscribers were. ‘Here it is,’ Slider said, tapping the paper. ‘She phoned Cockerell on his mobile on the Monday before she died. Why didn’t you mention this?’

‘Well, guv, once I found he was a family member – you said anything unusual. I didn’t think that counted.’

‘Hm. I suppose so.’

Atherton leaned over and looked. ‘You were expecting to find that call?’

‘It was a hunch,’ Slider said. ‘Don’t you see?
She
made the appointment with
him.’

‘And you can deduce that from the mere fact of a telephone number?’ Atherton marvelled.

‘Don’t get cute. Why else would she call him?’

‘Maybe she called him about something else, and he used the opportunity to make the appointment. Why would he pretend he made the running?’ Atherton countered.

‘Because whatever she wanted to see him for, he didn’t want us to know about. We knew he was lying. This is what he was lying about.’

‘Ah. Even so, where does that get us?’

‘I don’t know yet. I have to think.’ He waved them away.

Mackay said kindly, ‘Shall I get you a cuppa, guv?’

‘Yes, that’ll help. Thanks.’ He turned to Atherton. ‘Can you bring me the list you had of the drugs GCC makes?’

‘Okay. Anything I should know about?’

‘You’ll know when I know,’ said Slider.

Mackay was a long time getting the tea. He came in at last, saying, ‘Sorry, guv. I got waylaid, and then there was a queue.’

‘Thanks,’ Slider said absently, with the look that told Mackay he probably wouldn’t remember it was there until it was well cold. ‘Can you do something for me? Track down Mrs Hammick and get her to come in. I want to ask her something. Don’t alarm her.’

‘Sure,’ said Mackay. Slider’s head went down again. ‘Don’t forget your tea, guv. I’ve put it just here for you.’

‘Mm,’ said Slider.

Despite anything Mackay could do, Mrs Hammick arrived in Slider’s office in a state of tension; though she still had enough self-possession to look round very sharply, and with an absorbent capacity that would have given her a real edge in the CID.

‘Thank you for coming in,’ Slider said. ‘I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient. There was something I wanted to ask you.’

‘Oh, no, it’s all right. I don’t mind. I do a lady in Devonport Road Tuesday afternoons, so it’s only a step.’ She looked at the mess of things on Slider’s desk as though it could tell her something. ‘I’ve never been in a police station before, not the upstairs bit, but it’s just like you see on
The Bill,
isn’t it? Have you found out who killed poor Chattie?’

‘We’re getting there,’ said Slider. ‘Mrs Hammick—’

‘Maureen, please,’ she said, as though this were a social visit.

He smiled distractedly. ‘There’s something you said to me when I last spoke to you – when you so helpfully came in to the station to tell us you knew Chattie.’ She nodded. ‘I can’t remember exactly what it was, but you were telling me how kind she was—’

‘Oh, yes, there never was anyone so kind. Gave loads of money to charity, you know, and always ready to listen to your troubles.’

‘Yes, of course, but I think you said that when you were there one day she was talking to a young man with acne.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said promptly. ‘That was not long before – before that dreadful day. Was it Monday? Let me think. No, Monday was the day I caught Jassy in there, the little tramp, up to no good. I’d only just popped in with the croissants, and a good job I did, as it turns out. No, it must have been the Friday, because it was when I was there cleaning. Yes, that’s right. He rang the bell and I was nearest so I went and let him in. Poor young man! Nice-looking, he would have been, if it wasn’t for the horrible spots.’