Part 14 (1/2)

I put down the phone and thought, not for the first time, of leaving London, leaving the whole mess behind. It was madness to keep on with this. But then what was the alternative? If I didn't find out why I'd been set up and who was behind it, how could I take another job? I went down to Bel's room and she let me in. She was dressed, but wearing a towel wrapped turban-style around her head.

'So what are we up to this afternoon?' she asked.

'Doing our police act for Eleanor Ricks's solicitor.'

120.

She took off the towel and let it fall to the floor. Already she'd become a seasoned hotel guest. Next she'd be requesting more shampoo and teabags.

'I'm enjoying this,' she said. I looked surprised. 'Really, I am. It beats staring at sheep and dry-stone d.y.k.es all day.'

'I thought you watched daytime TV.'

'It beats that, too.' She sat down on the bed and, taking my hand, guided me to sit beside her. She didn't let go of my hand.

'Have you phoned Max lately?' I asked.

'That's a low punch.'

I shrugged. 'It's the only punch I've got.'

'Good.' She leaned towards me and touched her lips to mine. I was slow responding, so she opened her eyes.

'What's wrong?'

I pulled away from her, but slowly and not too far. 'We don't seem to be getting anywhere. It's all dead ends.'

'No, Michael,' she said, 'not quite all dead ends.' Our next kiss lasted a lot longer. By the end of it, her hair was all but dry, and this time she pulled away first.

'Can I just say one thing, Michael?'

'What?'

'In that gymnasium ...'

'Yes?'

'You were holding the MP5 all wrong.'

'I was?' She nodded. ”Don't tell me you've actually fired an MP5?'.

She looked surprised at the question. 'Of course I have. I get to fire most of my dad's guns eventually. Want me to give you some tips?'

I blinked. 'I'm not sure.'

She laughed at the look on my face. 'You thought you were getting Little Red Riding-Hood, is that it?'

'Well, I certainly didn't think I was getting the wolf.'

This time when we kissed, we used our hands to unb.u.t.ton one another's clothes ...

121.

11.'You weren't entirely truthful, were you, Mr Holier?'

The speaker was DI Dave Edmond. He was in the same pub he'd been in before with Hoffer. And as before, Hoffer was buying him a drink.

'A couple of large Scotches, please.' Hoffer turned to the policeman. 'How do you mean?'

”You didn't tell me you'd had a blow-up with my boss.

He's not very pleased with you, Mr Hoffer.'

'Did you tell him we'd had a drink?' Edmond shook his head. 'What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?'

'It can hurt me, if he ever finds out.'

'Why should he, Dave? Besides, you can look after yourself.' Hoffer sniffed and scratched his nose. The drinks arrived and he proffered a twenty. 'Keep five for yourself,' he told the barman, 'and keep these coming till the change runs out.' He then handed a whisky to Edmond, who dribbled water into it.

'Come on,' said Hoffer, 'let's sit down.'

The just-the-one-after-work commuter drinkers had departed, so there were tables free. Hoffer liked Edmond less than he liked Bob Broome, but he smiled anyway. He needed a friend in the police investigation, and if Broome could no longer be bought, others like Edmond could. Broome would return to the fold. They'd fallen out before and then made things up. But meantime Edmond would suffice.

'I like your style, Dave. You're not showy. You're the sort of guy who gets things done, who doesn't make a song and dance number out of it.' Hoffer lit a cigarette, then slid the pack towards the policeman.

122.

'Cops are cops,' Edmond said.

'G.o.d, that's true.'

'I hear you left the force.'

Hoffer opened his arms. 'I failed the physical. I was fine once I'd caught the bad guys. I could sit on them till they 'fessed up. But I just couldn't catch them.' Hoffer laughed and shook his head. 'No, it was the Walkins case. I got obsessed with it. So much so, my chiefs decided to move me to some other investigation. I couldn't take that, so I resigned and set myself up as a private d.i.c.k. Only, the only case I was interested in was the Walkins one.'

'There was something about it in the papers.'

'Hey, the media loved my story. They brought it flowers and chocolates. I'd given up a good career to make a life of hunting this mystery gunman. And the millionaire father of one of his victims was paying me. Are you kidding? It made great copy. Plus of course I was a fat ugly b.a.s.t.a.r.d, they loved that too. They like anything but normal in their photographs.'

Edmond laughed. Hoffer liked him even less.

'They still love me,' he went on. 'And I don't mind that.

See, some people think I'm pandering to them, I mean to the press, and maybe they're right. Or maybe I'm on some ego trip. All this may be true, but consider.' He raised a finger.

'The Demolition Man knows I'm out there. He knows I'm not going away. And I really get a kick out of that. Maybe he's not worried, but then again maybe he is.'

'You don't think he'd take a pop at you?'

Hoffer shrugged. 'I never think about it.' He'd told this story many dozens of times, always leaving out just a few truths. Such as the fact that his employers had requested his resignation when they'd decided he was doing a bit too much obvious nose talc. It was Hoffer's story that he'd resigned so he could follow up the Walkins story in his own way and his own time, but really he'd been given an ultimatum. Of course, once he'd explained to a reporter that 123.