Part 37 (1/2)

Fizz was as certain as she could be that the test was positive. People like Vanessa didn't fool around with s.e.x. If Rudyard was right in saying that she didn't want a family, there was no way she'd have been taking chances like some simple-minded schoolgirl. So, whatever means of contraception she'd been using, she must have had an accident an accident she hadn't been aware of, otherwise she'd have rushed out for a morning-after pill. Forgetting to take a 228. crucial contraceptive pill, or even a faulty condom, could have been sufficient to put her in the club.

'She was pregnant,' she said. 'If she'd been used to having irregular periods she wouldn't have worried. I reckon she was pretty well certain she was pregnant before she bought the test.'

'You can't possibly know that, Fizz,' Buchanan said, being congenitally unable to see anything but solid facts.

Fizz didn't bother to argue. Sooner or later he'd find she was right. The Forth appeared in intermittent flashes between the

warehouses and industrial premises along Seafield Road,

slate grey and sluggish. On the far sh.o.r.e the Kingdom of

Fife was masked by low cloud, making Fizz feel she was

looking at a seascape. 'You do know where this place is?' Buchanan said.

'Not precisely, but it's on the sh.o.r.e side. I remember noticing the lines of kennels one time when I was taking people to view a house in Portobello. I'm sure we'll see the sign.'

'I hope you've thought this through, Fizz. I wouldn't like to see you being charged with wasting police time.'

Buchanan leaned forward, peering through the streaming windscreen to scan the buildings on their left. 'And you could be, you know. Very easily.'

'No chance,' Fizz claimed, with partly feigned confidence.

'I've brought my disguise with me.'

She heaved her bag over from the back seat and produced a pair of gla.s.ses and a ski cap with a broad skip.

'See?' she said, when she had tucked all her hair out of view.

'Admit it -you couldn't tell me from Schwarzenegger.'

Buchanan rolled his eyes but was prevented from saying something sarcastic by the appearance of the sign advertising the dog and cat home.

The place looked like a miniature POW camp. The main construction material appeared to be chain-link 229. fencing, which surrounded the long rows of whitewashed kennels with their cramped runs, the administrative buildings and the exercise areas. Inside, however, the place was spotlessly clean and, Fizz was glad to note, smelled of neither disinfectant nor doggy poo.

There was a small reception area, well stocked with leads, dog food, cat toys, baskets, and books about how to discipline your dog or carry out your cat's wishes to its satisfaction. Fizz waited her turn at the desk, identified herself as a potential customer, and was told to follow a white line to the waiting room. Buchanan tagged along uneasily, out into the yard, past a couple of low buildings, and into a room containing a few chairs and a wall of kids'

drawings. Bereft of any other amus.e.m.e.nt, they studied the artwork until a young girl arrived to attend to them.

'Looking for a cat?' she inquired, chewing vigorously on a large wad of gum. 'Follow me.'

The cattery was only a few paces away: more chain-link fencing inside a long, not unpleasant building still lit by fugitive shafts of low morning sunlight. Only a dozen or so of the cages were occupied.

Ts this the lot?' Fizz asked.

'Yep. Some days we don't have a spare cage,' the girl said, 'other days we've hardly any cats at all. Just depends.

Cats go fast, you see. Not like dogs.'

Each cage bore a card giving the particulars of the occupant and contained a comfortable basket with woolly rugs and a couple of cat toys. Opposite the main battery of temporary accommodation there were a couple of chain- link 'playrooms' that someone had designed with love and intelligence so that the cats had things to climb and chase and explore.

Buchanan was immediately importuned by a big ginger and white torn who rushed to the front of his cage and started stropping himself up and down the links till his mark was forced to insert a finger and scratch his cheek. Fizz, knowing Buchanan for a sucker, was on to him right away. 230. 'Let's not cuddle them all, Buchanan, huh? We don't want to waste too much time.'

Buchanan swept an eye over the cages. 'What about that one?'