Death of a Stranger (6 page)

Simon Shaw was sitting with his Chief, Tim noticed with another small shock, and in fluent conversation. He couldn't see the restaurant doors from his place at the top table, but waiters were milling in front of it, and Constance Lorimer certainly wasn't in the room …

“Are you hungry?'' he asked Anna. “I'm not, at all. Which is odd, as everything looks so good.''

“I know, but I'm not hungry either.'' Both glanced at Lorna, putting her knife and fork together on an empty plate, then smiled at one another. But Lorna as she looked up found Simon's eye, and the smile that passed between them put paid to Tim's.

Anna took his hand under the table. “You can't do anything about it, and friends can be close, and concerned about one another, without … Here comes the cake.''

Hand over hand they made the incision, and when the cake had been carried off for cutting up Anna sat down and Tim stayed on his feet, a piece of card in his hand that he didn't look at. “Family.'' With an affectionate glance at his mother. “Friends.'' His glance toured the room. “Thank you for being with my wife and me today.'' His historic speech was under way and Anna was able to relax and enjoy it, confident from the times she had already heard him address groups of people that he would enjoy it too, although today he had no knowledge to impart, he had only what he himself jokily called wedding and after-dinner speeches – ‘a few well-chosen words'.

Anna came to attention with a shiver of excitement, as she realised she was going to learn something new about her husband: the extent of his public wit. And that if he turned out to have little or none she wouldn't care. How she had changed! In her past relationships her mind had always been in the ascendant over her heart, assessing would-be partners for their intelligence above and beyond their other qualities. Except with Jimmy. Not that Jimmy wasn't intelligent – although it didn‘ t much show on his surface – but that wasn't why she had married him. She hadn't married Tim for his mind, either, any more than for his body, she had married him because he was Tim, for better or worse. And his short speech was proving to be for better. Anna thought – and hoped – that her relief at discovering this was for him rather than for herself.

He had turned to Ted. “ Bit of a cushy number, you might think, being best man at a wedding where there are no bridesmaids to do the gallant thing by. But I can assure you all that Ted Mahy has done a vital job in helping me to reach today in one piece – in a whole range of ways he would hate me to detail – as well as being a steady presence at my side. So let us turn precedent on its head and drink to – the best man!''

Typical Tim to sit down with his audience's attention directed away from himself, Anna reflected as she raised her glass. But now Ted had been given his opportunity he quickly directed the spotlight back on to the bridal couple with a few words ending in a toast, before slipping out on Tim's signal to alert the musicians.

That was when people began to leave their seats and move around, and at the first notes of music some of them began to go through to the ballroom. Tim and Anna joined them promptly, on the shared thought that a small audience for their opening dance would be preferable to a large one. They had taken only a few applauded turns before Tim indicated to Ted to join them with Marilyn, and soon Lorna was on the floor with Simon. Decorously, Anna noted, alerted to their presence by the brief rigidity of Tim's arms. She and Tim must dance together again, she thought, the experience was bringing back the excitement of newness, making her feel, absurdly, that their first married night would be their first night together.

“I'm enjoying this,'' Tim whispered. “ But I think you'd better be available for a while to other men.''

The first of the other men was Simon Shaw. “Thank you for inviting me today,'' he said. He was a good dancer, too, and similar to Tim in height and build. “I do so hope you and Tim are going to have a wonderful life.''

“We expect to.'' His eyes were large and blue, his skin creamy brown, his hair golden. Anna noted with amusement that several of the younger female guests were aware of him. Also Lorna, who to Anna's relief was smiling on them approvingly.

“I hope I'll be able to feel like that with somebody one day.'' A sentiment to cheer Tim when she reported it? He could hardly be speaking of Lorna. “Anna'' – Simon's face now was diffident – “ I have an idea that Lorna … Did she tell you and Tim what I'm doing here?''

“She did.'' Anna's rueful smile was met by an indulgent one, but Simon's face immediately clouded.

“Did Tim …? What did he think of my profession?''

Why should he think anything of it
? Tim would have had the same reaction. But she had to reassure Simon's ridiculous anxiety.

“He was intrigued. He doesn't think that everyone should be part of the Establishment. We both hope you'll be successful.''

Looking out over the dance floor a little later, Anna saw that Simon was dancing with one of the prettiest girls. And that Lorna's face as she regarded them was still serene.

O
nly one member of each workforce – Ted Mahy and John Coquelin – knew that the bride and bridegroom were going back to Rouge Rue for their first married night. Neither Tim nor Anna was seriously worried about more people finding out, but neither relished the thought of a jokey siege of the villa and both were attracted by the idea of the slight ingenuity needed to outwit their friends and their other colleagues.

So they had not said when or where they were going for their honeymoon, nor contradicted the expressed assumption that they would be catching the last plane of the day to London. Ted had let himself be seen to disappear towards the end of the celebrations and to return some twenty minutes later in a private hire car, the boot of which he took care to indicate contained holiday luggage.

“They're well organised,'' Marilyn Mahy, who was not in the secret, whispered to Lorna, who was.

“Yes. People can behave so oddly at these times, they thought it would be wise. As it is they'll be tailed to the airport, you'll see.''

Lorna went with them in the car, and as a special favour was allowed through with them into the departure lounge. It was a special favour for Tim and Anna to be allowed through, too, as they were leaving not by plane but in John Coquelin's car, waiting for them outside an obscure door allocated for their escape.

“When I went back into the lobby,'' Lorna told them triumphantly on the telephone a half-hour later, “there was quite a crowd. Some of them even hung on to watch the London plane take off. Were there any clever clogs by John's car?''

“None. And no one at the gate when we got home. Mission successfully accomplished, and with no one left feeling frustrated – by the time we're back and it leaks out, it'll be history.'' Tim hesitated. “Have you … Did you see Constance Lorimer again?''

“No! She's made her gesture, darling.''

“I hope you're right. Are you off to bed now?'' Anna saw Tim's knuckles whiten as he strengthened his grip on the telephone.

“After we've walked to the lookout and surveyed the lights and the other islands. It's a lovely night.''

“You and Simon?'' Tim wished immediately that he hadn't asked the question. But it had been reflex.

“Me and Simon. Have a wonderful week, both of you. I'll come back soon to see you.''

“We both hope you will. I'm glad you've been with us today, Mother. There'd have been a gap if you hadn't come.''

He heard the long, contented sigh. “ I
do
get much more than I deserve, don't I? Thank you, darling.''

“Take care. Look,'' Tim went on quickly, because he had to, “I really mean that. Constance Lorimer knows where you're staying.''

“I told you, darling, she's done her worst. Made it clear she's neither forgotten nor forgiven. But it's in the past. Geoffrey's dead, rest his soul. And …'' Tim heard the sharp sudden breath.

“Yes?''

“That's it, isn't it? Don't go on, Tim.''

It was an order. “All right, it's only that I'm concerned about you.''

“I know, darling, and it's the wonder of my life. Goodnight and God bless.''

Anna took Tim's hand as he put the telephone down, looking round the cosy, unfashionable sitting-room with its high Victorian mantelpiece, crowded, as were the two display cabinets, with the pieces of porcelain and the curios no one else in Tim's family had wanted. “ Do you remember that first time you brought me here? How formal we were, and then …''

“Because we were aching for one another and could neither of us imagine that the other was feeling the same.'' He pulled her arm up round his neck. “We can't fall over Duffy on the stairs tonight and the cat seems out for the count.'' He nodded towards the fireside chair in which Whitby was a tight grey circle. “ So?''

“Oh, yes! When we were dancing …''

They raced upstairs, tore off their clothes. An hour or so later, when they had just drifted into sleep, the telephone rang.

“Has to be a wrong number,'' Tim mumbled crossly. “ Nobody knows we're here.''

“The people who matter do. You'd better answer it.''

“God, yes!'' He was bolt upright, his teeth chattering and his hand trembling, so that the telephone clattered to the floor and he had to grope for it.

“Hello,'' he said at last. Not
DI Le Page
, in his usual way.

“Tim? Simon here.''

“Simon?''
Why not my mother
? He had known for ever that there was something terribly wrong.

“Tim, Lorna's in hospital. But she's
all right
. She's all right, Tim.''

“Constance Lorimer.'' Another reflex, making him realise how uneasy the woman had made him.

“Hit-and-run. So I suppose it could have been.''

So his mother had told Shaw about Constance. “ But
you're
all right. You let her walk closer to the road.'' He regretted that as soon as he'd said it. But he was so fearfully angry. “I'm sorry,'' he muttered.

“We'd only just come down the hotel steps.'' Shaw's voice was without expression, as if he had not heard Tim's terrible accusation. “One of her earrings flew off, we watched it land in the road and she ran after it. She couldn't see it or get hold of it right away. While she was scrabbling she asked me to look for the bit that goes behind the ear, which she said should be on the pavement, and I was doing that when I heard the car and then saw it tearing up from the lookout towards Cambridge Park Road. It was so quick, Tim. Lorna slipped trying to get to her feet. I hurled myself into the road and caught hold of her by one shoulder as the car hit the other. Or something like that. It didn't go over her, it just knocked us both backwards. At least she ended up on me and not on the road. Her left shoulder's dislocated and her left leg's badly cut, but otherwise she's okay.''

“What about you?'' Tim had to force himself not to sound grudging.

“A few bruises. I'm all right.''

“Good. Did you get the car number?''

“I'm afraid not. I was Lorna's cushion and by the time we'd sorted ourselves out the car was well away. And when it was coming at her … well, it was her I was looking at.''

“It
was
coming at her?''

“I'd say so. The driver had to have seen her but he or she wasn't slowing down, they were accelerating. I think it was dark – the car, I mean – and not very large, but that's all I can tell you. She's comfortable here in the Princess Elizabeth, she's asleep in fact, and I'll be going back to the hotel when – when I've been given the once-over.''

Tim wondered if Shaw was playing his own injuries up by playing them down. Wondered, on a flash of surreal horror, if he had been in cahoots with the driver of the car, manoeuvring Lorna into the road …

“I'll be over right away. Maybe see you.''

“Right … Tim, I'm sorry. Your wedding night …''

“That's of no practical significance, as I'm sure you know. Where do I go?''

“Victoria wing.''

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.''

There wasn't much he had to fill in for Anna.

“You'll be going as a policeman as well as a next of kin, won't you?''

“I suppose I will.'' He was shocked to realise he had been thinking of himself
vis-à-vis
an attempted murder as no more than the victim's son. “ I'm officially on leave but that goes by the board when …'' He turned a horrified face to her as he snapped on the light. “ Oh, God, darling. Scotland.''

“I'll cancel while you're away. The plane at least. I'll wait till the morning to ring the hire car firm and the hotels.''

“Oh, Anna. Once I've seen for myself Mother really is all right, perhaps we could …'' Tim stopped, turned to look at her as he said it aloud. “But it could have been murder.''

“Which means that as detective inspector you're going to
have
to be here as well as wanting to be. Tim, we had a wonderful wedding day. Get up and go.''

It
was
a lovely night, Tim agreed bitterly as he opened the garage. Still, and mild, and scented. The starry sky was obscured here and there by pale puffs of cloud and a deluded robin was twittering softly, perhaps awakened by the safety light now illumining his small front garden. The only song bird, now that high summer had arrived, to be still singing. Tim had all his life been aware of the flora and fauna surrounding him, and each year lamented the morning and evening chorus as it tailed away in mid-July.

The short drive to the hospital seemed very long, and his internal walk seemed to go on for ever. The senior duty nurse in the Victoria wing told him the physical story: his mother's left shoulder had been manipulated back into place and the cuts on her leg cleaned up under the sufficient anaesthesia of a dose of morphine. The shoulder would have to be strapped up, and the leg wounds regularly dressed, for at least a week. It wasn't possible at the moment to say how long they would be keeping her in the hospital, as it was too early to assess the extent of her shock.