Part 15 (1/2)
”Okay,” Kincaid agreed, thinking that trying to conduct an interview with a cripple and a three-year-old would have to go down on his list of firsts. Especially when the interviewee was a friend. ”I'll pick you up in about half an hour. We'll get lunch.”
”Right-ho.” Doug sounded only marginally more cheerful.
”Doug, what's bothering you? You're not just bored.” Kincaid walked on, waiting for a response.
He'd begun to think the line had gone dead when Doug said, ”There was something . . . The way Melody talked about that guitar chap yesterday-did you notice? I didn't like it. Something's up, and I want to know what it is.”
Melody was still shaky with relief as she followed Gemma and Maura Bell out of the flat. Not that she'd suspected Andy of having anything to do with Vincent Arnott's death-of course she hadn't. But the fact that she'd been consorting-consorting? Good G.o.d. The very word made her damp down a hysterical desire to laugh.
Whatever she chose to call it, she'd crossed the line with someone connected to their investigation, and the fact that she knew that Andy Monahan had a solid alibi for the time of this victim's death made her feel both giddy and horribly awkward. If the subject of Andy's whereabouts came up for any reason, she was going to have to come clean with her boss. She flushed at the thought.
And G.o.d forbid someone mentioned it to Doug. Not that she and Doug had that kind of relations.h.i.+p, but she'd let him down last night, and even without that, she knew that he would think less of her.
How she felt about what she'd done, she had yet to figure out. In the meantime, however, she'd better concentrate on the business at hand-although even that admonition didn't stop the little s.h.i.+ver of remembered desire that ran through her.
Gemma and DI Bell were talking to a woman who stood behind the low iron railing of the flat next door. She was stout, gray haired, and tweedy, and in her arms she held a Yorks.h.i.+re terrier with a pink bow in its hair.
”It's Verne,” she was saying, her honking voice raised to a decibel level that indicated she suffered from hearing loss. ”Myra Verne. Lived here since 1972. The garden flat. Cheap in those days, the flats round here, though you wouldn't think it now.”
”Mrs. Verne,” said Gemma, ”if you could-”
”It's Miss. Never married. Never saw the point in being saddled with a man to look after.”
”Quite right, I'm sure, Miss Verne.” Gemma gave her a conspiratorial smile. ”But about last night-”
”Something's happened to that young man next door, hasn't it? The one in the ground-floor flat. Spells his name S-h-a-u-n instead of S-e-a-n. b.l.o.o.d.y pretentious, if you ask-”
”Miss Verne,” interrupted Maura Bell, ”if you could just tell us-”
”That's exactly what I'm doing, young woman.” Myra Verne's tweedy shoulders stiffened in offense, and the Yorkie gave a sympathetic growl that might have been mistaken for a mosquito whine.
Gemma gave Bell a quelling look. ”Miss Verne, you were saying?” Accustomed, Melody knew, to the boisterous good nature of her own dogs, Gemma reached out to stroke the Yorkie.
”Princess doesn't like strangers,” warned Miss Verne. ”She didn't like him, either.” She jerked her head towards the next-door flat. ”He had the nerve to complain about her barking in the garden. It's her garden, isn't it? She has every right.” She clutched the dog to her bosom more tightly. ”Yuppies,” she added with venom, and it took Melody a moment to realize she didn't mean the dog. ”They've taken over the square, with all their flat conversions and German appliances.”
Gemma tried again. ”Miss Verne-”
”So what sort of fix did he get himself into? I know there's something, with that woman coming out of the flat this morning howling like a banshee and then the cavalry arriving in full force.”
Melody could see that even Gemma was losing patience. ”Miss Verne,” said Gemma firmly, ”we're not at liberty to say. Did you see or hear anything last night that led you to think that Mr. Francis might be in some sort of trouble?”
”He was off to the pub when I went out to put my rubbish in the bin. About seven or half past, when I'd finished my supper. Every night he was there, even on a Sunday. I think he ate all his meals at the place, too.” Miss Verne sniffed in disapproval.
”You mean this pub?” Gemma gestured towards the pretty place in the corner of the square. ”The Prince of Wales?”
Having seen the appealing menu on the pub's outdoor blackboard, Melody shuddered to contemplate Miss Verne's idea of a proper meal.
”It used to be a nice quiet place. But now, even in the winter, people bring their dogs and carry their beers into the square as if it was a public park. It drives Princess mad.”
”Quiet, all right,” muttered Maura Bell. ”Supposedly in the sixties it was the hangout of the Richardsons, the rival gang to the Krays. If you ask me, the lawyers and politicians are an improvement, although maybe not any more honest,” she added.
Gemma gave Bell a startled glance. ”Lawyers?”
”It's all lawyers and MPs round here these days,” answered Miss Verne. ”As I was saying. d.a.m.ned yuppies.”
”Shaun Francis was a lawyer?”
”Trainee barrister, or so he said. Although I don't see how a trainee barrister could have afforded that flat.”
”Barrister?” Gemma repeated faintly, looking at Melody. ”Surely not-” She caught herself and turned back to the neighbor. ”Miss Verne, will you excuse us? You've been most helpful and we will want to get a full statement from you in writing, if you'll just bear with us for a few minutes.”
She walked away before their witness could protest, motioning Melody and Maura to follow. When they were out of Miss Verne's hearing, she hissed, ”Another barrister? Strangled? Dear G.o.d. This is turning into a royal b.a.l.l.s-up. What the h.e.l.l is going on here?”
”Something Shakespeare would have loved,” said Melody.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
Spitalfields takes its name from the hospital and priory, St. Mary's Spittel that was founded in 1197. Lying in the heart of the East End, it is an area known for its spirit and strong sense of community. It was in a field next to the priory where the now famous market first started in the thirteenth century.
-e, you can get a different animal to add to your collection.”
”There's a place for an elephant,” said Charlotte, entranced. She looked at Kincaid. ”Can we come again soon, Papa? I might get the elephant.”
”I should think we could manage that.” Kincaid gave Tam a curious glance. ”What did we do to deserve such largess, Tam?”
”Ah, well, it's not entirely in your honor, I have to admit.” Tam settled his faded hat a little more firmly on his head. ”But I felt the need for a celebration, and who better to share it with than such friends? But let's order-I could eat a horse.”
The restaurant specialized in traditional English food, so after some discussion on the nature of rarebit-Kincaid a.s.suring Charlotte that it was a cheesy sauce and had nothing to do with rabbits-he chose the Welsh rarebit with a poached egg for her and the smoked haddock for himself. Tam and Doug went the whole hog-so to speak-for the roast pork of the day.
When the waiter had taken their orders, Kincaid scrutinized his friend. ”So, what's all this, Tam?” A spark of hope flared. ”Is it Louise? Some good news about her diagnosis?”
Tam's face fell. ”No, things are just the same there, I'm afraid. Michael's cooking for her every night. We'll rub along as best we can.”
”What, then? You've won the lottery?”
Tam grinned, although his Scottish dental work was a sight perhaps best not seen too often. ”Close enough, maybe, for my business. Maybe as close as I'll ever come, and I've seen a good few musicians come and go over the years. But this time, Duncan, I just may have hit the pot of gold.”
”Someone new?”
”No, it's my lad Andy. I got him a gig playing guitar for a girl singer, and her manager filmed them-just rehearsal time, mainly, and a bit yesterday in the studio. He did some editing, then put it up on YouTube just to see what kind of response it would get.” Tam shook his head. ”I'd never have believed it. The b.l.o.o.d.y thing is going viral. In a day. We're scrambling now to get the contracts in place so we can get the song up for downloads. It's- I've never seen anything like it.” For a moment, Tam looked as if he were going to cry. ”I havenae even told Michael yet. Afraid to jinx it. That's why I didn't want you to come to the flat.”