Part 39 (1/2)

Buchanan was adding his pleas to the babble of noise, apologising to Poppy over and over for frightening her. He wanted nothing more than to run away and shoot himself in the head, but Fizz was firmly in charge of the situation and was going nowhere.

In the end, it was obvious to both of them that it was Buchanan's distraught face that convinced Poppy of their bona fides. Gradually, her screaming and sobbing subsided and Fizz, who was roughly her height and weight, was able to release her.

'We really are no danger to you, Mrs Ford,' Buchanan said. 'Believe me, if I'd known how much our appearance would distress you I'd never have put you through it. I do hope you can forgive us.'

'Yes ... if you'll just go!' she wailed through her tears.

”You're still frightening me! Please just go awayV

'I'm sorry, Poppy, but we can't go,' Fizz said, guiding her through a lamp-lit doorway into the living room. 'Not right away. My career hangs on getting to speak to you for a few minutes. Just ten minutes and then we'll leave. If you still want us to go.'

Poppy looked again at Buchanan, her br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes reading his face as though she wanted to believe what she saw there. He gave her the hankie from his breast pocket and tentatively patted her shoulder.

'It's the truth, Mrs Ford. We've been investigating Mrs Gra.s.sick's death and we've got ourselves in a spot of trouble. We really need your help.' He found one of his business cards and, although he knew he should be keeping his ident.i.ty a secret, handed it to her.

She afforded it barely a glance but it appeared, to some 241. degree, to put her mind at rest. She took a few unsteady steps towards a low overstuffed couch and sat down, covering her eyes with a clenched wad of Buchanan's hankie.

Buchanan could hardly bear to look at her. She was a skinny little thing, no taller than Fizz but, where Fizz appeared compact and healthy, Poppy's slimness spoke of junk food and an unhealthy lifestyle. Her blonde hair was stringy, and the pallid arms sticking out of her short-sleeved sweater were skin and bone. There were still two dressings covering what must have been deep cuts on her arms and her face was covered with lesser, half-healed lacerations.

It had never once occurred to Buchanan that her reaction to being found would be such a negative one, but now the pieces were fast falling into place and he could understand the alarm he must have caused her. The cat swindle had been cruel enough and only Fizz's desperate situation had persuaded him to go along with it, but to realise that he had added to the trauma this poor girl had already suffered was doing his head in.

Fizz stood in the middle of the floor, rain dripping off her borrowed mac on to the carpet, and emanated impatience like static electricity. She pointed at an invisible wrist.w.a.tch and operated an imaginary starting handle while her eyes rolled to the door in a mime of shocked antic.i.p.ation.

Buchanan doubted very much if they would be interrupted.

If the policeman had spotted them, which he felt pretty sure was not the case, he'd have come back by now and, the way Buchanan was reading the signs, n.o.body else knew Poppy's current address. He frowned at Fizz and pointed firmly to a chair and, after a concise and insulting mime, she threw off her mac and settled down.

Buchanan took the low armchair that faced Poppy's couch across the fireplace and said, 'Would a cup of tea help, Mrs Ford?'

She shook her head, still hiding behind the hankie, but, 242. after a moment, she emerged, wiped her eyes and gave each of them a nervous appraisal. 'What do you want?' she said to Buchanan in a voice that twisted his guts. 'Who are you?'

Buchanan made a small gesture towards the card she had dropped on her lap. 'I'm a solicitor, Mrs Ford. I'm executor of Vanessa Gra.s.sick's will and my a.s.sistant, Fizz, and I have been trying to find out exactly what happened the night she died, and why.'

He glanced at Fizz but she was apparently disposed, for the present at least, to let him do the talking. Poppy, too, was willing him to go on so he did, keeping his voice as slow and gentle as he knew how, to avoid spooking her again.

'We've been blundering around in the dark for two weeks and getting nowhere. In fact it wasn't until I saw how frightened you were that I realised the truth -or, at least, part of the truth. And, please believe me, I'd never have put you through that if I'd known what we were doing.'

He shut his teeth together to stop himself from going on and on about how sorry he was and, in the pause, he could see Fizz staring at him, her whole face a question. Partly to keep her silent and partly to get it out of the way, he continued, 'You're being looked after through a Witness Protection Scheme, of course. I should have realised it when we saw the chap picking up the cat. We suspected that he was a policeman but things were happening so quickly I didn't think it through.'

'Fat lot of protection they're giving me!' she said violently, her breath still coming in dry sobs. 'If you can find me, so can they!'

'I think that's extremely unlikely,' Buchanan said, projecting a confidence he didn't feel.

'No it's not! I'm b.l.o.o.d.y sure they were on to us in the last house.'

'In Chirnside? What make you think that, Mrs Ford?'

'Someone had been asking in the pub about new residents in the village. Who had moved in within the last six 243. months? What age were they? What did they look like?'

She was spitting the words out, almost incoherent with rage and despair. 'It got back to Jamie pretty quick and they -the WAS department -said they'd move us on at the weekend. Only they weren't b.l.o.o.d.y quick enough, were they? And now you've found me and it'll be them next. Am I going to have to live like this for the rest of my life?'

'Who are theyT Fizz asked, without giving the woman time to wipe her eyes.

Poppy spared her barely a glance and shook her head violently. 'I can't talk about it.'