Part 22 (1/2)

'Yes. They can mop the stuff up with some clever chemical thingy. So who did it?'

'This way,' I said, and led the mult.i.tude into the building, into the lift, and in stages up to the correct floor. There I knocked politely and the inhabitant answered. He blinked at so many people in the morning. Ms White produced her badge.

'Can we come in?'

Mr Pemberthy shuffled away and allowed us inside the over decorated apartment. He shuffled to a chair and sat down.

'It's all gone amiss, hasn't it?' I said sympathetically. 'Ever since Meroe put a curse on you.'

'Witches!' he snarled with surprising strength. 'Women! All wh.o.r.es! I had you scared, though. I had you widdling your drawers.'

'You did indeed,' I told him. 'Drawers were being widdled all over the building.You know where it went wrong,don't you?'

'It was her!' He shot an accusing finger at Meroe, who smiled sweetly. I suppose it was nice to know that Mamma's curses still worked. 'The daughter of Belial!'

I remembered that he had once been a lay preacher. The vocabulary had lingered. I went on.

'No, it was you. You meant this as a cover for the murder of your wife, a prime candidate for murder, we all agree about that. The Buggy Death was a good touch. But you forgot that she always shared her food with that rotten little mongrel, Traddles. No one was going to test Mrs P for pesticide poisoning. But vets always test for it because dogs have a habit of eating snail bait. Then, you were hoping to inherit this apartment. You like it here. It would be paradise without your wife. But as a result of your activities, she was going to sell up and leave. It didn't work out, did it?'

'It was just the letters at first,' he said into his yellowing moustache. 'Just to give you all a scare. I used to see you in the garden. Drinking. Laughing! Why should you laugh? I'd show you. I got those boys to find things out for me. Just a joke,' he said lamely.

'Then you stole the pesticide,' I prompted.

'It was just sitting there. She never stores her things properly. It was like a gift. I do all the cooking. I just added it to things with a strong taste. Garlic bread. Curry. She ate it all up like a good girl. Once she even asked for more!' He began to laugh.

'You'll find red paint on his cuffs and pesticide on one of his shoes,' I told Ms White. 'A Buggy Death burn on his foot. The Lone Gunmen have tattled. We don't need to stay here any longer,' I said.

'Elias Pemberthy, I am arresting you on a charge of attempted murder,' began Senior Constable White calmly. 'Threatening words. Threat to kill. Attempted arson. Anything else I can think of. You s.h.i.+thead. You are not required to answer questions, but if you do, it will be taken down and can later be produced in court. You are ent.i.tled to attempt to contact a lawyer-'

'You're another of the witches! There are witches everywhere!' screamed Mr Pemberthy.

Ms White walked him out of the room. She locked the door of the apartment as she left and was gone.

Then we all looked at each other. Such hatred had stung. We must never underestimate, said Germaine Greer, how much men hate us. Pemberthy hated his wife, but he hated all women as well; mysterious, tormenting, dangerous, sinful creatures. I s.h.i.+vered. So did Meroe. She made a complicated gesture in the air and some of the oppression, I swear, dissipated. I just felt very tired.

'Gross,' commented Cherie Holliday.

'G.o.ddess, did we get him wrong,' sighed Meroe. 'This will teach me to believe what any man says about himself!'

'He was very convincing,' I said. He had been, too.

'You work in mysterious ways,' said Professor Monk to me. 'This has all been very instructive. What are you going to do now, Corinna?'

'I'll meet you on the roof at six,' I said. 'Right now,' I grabbed Daniel's hand, 'I am going to bed.'

He came quietly.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

We fell asleep as if poleaxed and surfaced to make love sleepily and sweetly and go back to sleep again. I woke heavy and sated in every limb. The sun was crossing the window. I blinked. Daniel blinked. I could not believe that he was really sharing my bed. But there he was. Smooth, sleek, beautiful Lord-I-amnot-worthy Daniel Cohen.

He read my mind.

'You're still wondering why I love you rather than all those thin girls?' he asked. I nodded, blus.h.i.+ng.

'Well, my accountant,' he said. 'Look at it this way. I like long term investments. When all those thin girls are fifty they will be wattled, haggard and wrinkled, mourning the loss of their beauty. You will be plump and rosy and there won't be a line on your face. Or other parts,' he said, running an a.s.sessing hand down my shoulder to my breast, then resting it comfortably on my belly.

'I'll sign off on that company account,' I said, and kissed him again. 'Why did you do that to yourself?' I asked, smoothing the two weals from a whip.

267.

'Because I knew you wouldn't hit me hard enough to leave a mark,' he said. 'Why are we getting up?' he asked.

'For the Agatha Christie finish,' I said. 'Have a shower, slave. You're still covered with floor dust and henna. I'll watch.'

He sluiced off dust and grime and scrubbed off some lipstick but the henna stayed. It was my mark, he had said. I was aware that it was an uncertain world and I was also aware that the last woman Daniel had been close to had only lived for three months after the marriage. In any case I didn't want to live with him, not yet. My life was neat and routine and ruled by yeast and cats and I wasn't ready to change it yet, if ever.

But a demon lover who belonged to the night and appeared suddenly on balconies, who made me feel like fizz and spring and joy, that was worth having. More than enough for me. Much more than I deserved. Something had changed in me once I had put on Mistress Dread's red dominatrix gown. When Daniel was dry and dressed I picked up Horatio and ordered, 'Bring the champagne.'

'Yes, Mistress,' he responded. And there was a tingle. Not a hot flush of mastery, but a tingle.

The whole tenancy of Insula was gathered on the roof and the Prof, I noticed, had already distributed the first round of champagne. Jason was there, in his baker's whites, sipping gingerly. I suspected that he wouldn't be getting stuck into any real alcohol any time soon. Trudi was drinking gin. She did not care for champagne. The Hollidays were sitting on a wicker seat with Pumpkin Bear. He was the only one without a gla.s.s. Wonder of wonders, there were the Lone Gunmen, in sunlight yet, sitting together on a picnic rug and looking as uncomfortable as three young men in possession of six bottles of Arctic Death can look.

Mistress Dread, in her Country Road clothes, was sitting with them, talking about a video game, and they were actually talking to her. Strange.

Horatio went off into the undergrowth again. What did he do there? Senior Constable White was lounging on a love-seat and sharing the gin with Trudi. She looked quite different out of uniform; taller and much less tired. Kylie was sitting with Meroe, who was not only drinking but lighting a cigarette. I went over and borrowed one immediately. A Gitane! Bliss. Everyone I was fond of on the one roof. Daniel opened another bottle. Jason brought around a big tray of m.u.f.fins. I took one and bit it.

'These are new! Scrumptious! What are they?'

'Apricots. They keep their flavour because they start off dried,' he explained. 'After Goss and me shut up shop I just tried out a few ideas. I cooked the apricots in the microwave in brandy and water,' he explained. 'Try one of these.'

They had a different texture to the ordinary m.u.f.fin; more crumbly but very light. I gave them their due: 'Equally yum. And they are ...?'

'It's the cinnamon and sugar tea-cake recipe,' he explained, beaming. 'They're little tea cakes. I reckon we'll sell as many as we can make.'

'Louis, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friends.h.i.+p,' quoted Daniel.

'Do you like Casablanca too?' I demanded.

'One of my favourites,' said Daniel. 'Along with Bladerunner.'

'You two are a match made in heaven,' said the Professor. He was pottering about, refilling gla.s.ses. Then he stopped and sat down next to Pumpkin Bear, whom he patted absentmindedly.

'Tell us all,' he decreed. 'Not one more bite or sup do you get until we are thoroughly enlightened.'

'Where do I start?' I asked. 'The junkies, or the Mr Pemberthy poisoning his wife thing?'