Part 30 (2/2)

I asked, without hope, 'Wheres Russell?

'Taken Kevin and gone out somewhere.

Someone knocked again.

'Id better go and let them in.

I nodded.

'Remember, Mrs Checkland, youre not well.

I thrust my book under the cus.h.i.+ons, flicked off the TV, pulled up the blanket, closed my eyes, and prepared to deceive the police to the best of my ability.

Mrs Crisp re-entered noisily. 'Are you awake, Mrs Checkland?

I opened my eyes, artistically.

It was only one police officer and she was a she. She was also a sergeant, a few years older than me, and her stocky figure was made bulkier by her vest. But I knew her. Shed been head girl at my school. And she knew me. It was Marjorie Bates. I remembered her heading the charge, sweeping down the hockey pitch, the day we s.n.a.t.c.hed victory from Rushford St Winifreds in extra time. And now she was Sgt Bates. As Sgt Bates she radiated solid, calm, good sense, so she stuck out like a sore thumb at Frogmorton.

I smiled and indicated she should sit. Mrs Crisp disappeared to distract her with tea and as much cake as she could eat.

I know all about the police. I watch TV. I know that any investigation is always headed by a senior officer with a drug habit, or a dodgy past, or marital problems, or tottering on the verge of a mental breakdown. His or her team always consist of stunningly good-looking, ambitious young officers doing each other down at the slightest opportunity and also having ma.s.ses of inappropriate s.e.x. Theres always opposition from unhelpful senior officers more concerned with politics than catching criminals and the serial killer usually turns out to be one of the team. At any moment she would set about me my own telephone directory until I confessed. To anything.

'Good morning, Mrs Checkland.

I refused to be lulled by good manners.

'Im sorry to disturb you, she said. 'Especially when youre not well. Was it an accident?

Still not knowing why she was here, I pointed to the stairs. She got up and had a look.

'That must have hurt.

I nodded. It had. It still did.

She sat back down again.

'Its just a few quick questions.

About what? I hoped Sharon had remembered to bring Boxer in as well, otherwise there would be SHOUTING and everyone within a ten-mile radius would know we had a donkey. A stolen donkey.

'Do you know a young man named Kevin Price?

Oh my G.o.d. Kevin. He was wanted by the police after all and theyd tracked him back to us. Theyd found him.

I sat up and began the only slightly exaggerated struggle to speak, giving her plenty of time to say she would return when my husband was here. If she could catch him. He was never b.l.o.o.d.y here.

She waited patiently.

I seized a piece of paper and wrote 'Sorry. I have a stutter, and pa.s.sed it to her.

She smiled. 'Not a problem.

Great. Id got the only police officer in the country whod done sensitivity training.

I used the time to think. There was no point in lying. Everyone knew Kevin lived here. Its not as if wed tried to hide him.

'I dont think thats the problem, said Thomas. ' We may need to ask ourselves what he was up to before he came to live with us.

I remembered the squeaky voice saying: 'Give me your bag, lady, and the complete absence of any sort of threat.

'Yes. Not the most efficient mugger in town. said Thomas.

She was still waiting while I, a formerly respectable member of society but now married to someone who wasnt, formulated and dismissed plans for Deceiving The Law.

Finally, as haltingly as I could, I said, 'I know a Kevin.

'Whats his last name?

Oh great. Now I had to admit wed given refuge to someone whod refused to tell us his last name. No, hang on, shed said the name. What was it?

Her smile became slightly more steely and I folded like a badly made origami swan.

'Dont know.

'Youve been putting him up for what six months now and you dont know his name?

'Its Kevin, I said, defensively. 'Were not complete idiots.

Thomas snorted unhelpfully.

'Does this Kevin live here in this house?

'Oh no, I said, glad to be able to rea.s.sure her. 'He lives in the stables.

Silence.

'Oh, well done, Jenny, said Thomas. 'Now she probably thinks hes feral.

'He has a nice room there, I said desperately, in case she thought he shared a stall with Boxer, and then realised, too late, that if she asked to see it she couldnt miss the worlds hottest donkey, also snugly ensconced in our stables, and very possibly the worlds hottest donkeys ex-owner bricked up in a cavity there, as well.

I considered having a relapse.

'Well, Im sure his mum will be very grateful to you for taking him in, she said.

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