So he made love to her, half his mind splitting away with guilt and anxiety while the other half was faint with love and joy. Afterwards she fell asleep suddenly, instantly, as the kittens would sometimes do in the middle of play, without warning.
Early in the morning he woke and found her caressing him, and they did it again, with great tenderness, and this time, with all his mind.
Six
Voi Che Sapete
In the morning, Atherton got up quietly while Emily was still asleep, showered and dressed and went downstairs to feed the cats and let them out, and make coffee. He had no idea how she was going to feel, when she woke, about the events of the night. Would she regret them, blame him for ‘taking advantage of her’? At best there might be embarrassment, at worst blazing resentment. For himself, he wanted only to be with her all the time, a sensation he had not previously known. Even with Sue, to whom he had once proposed marriage, he had not envisaged spending every moment of the rest of his life in her company. The very idea would have made him nuts. Now, though he knew she must be exhausted, he longed for her to wake up so he could talk to her again.
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, the kits, not being used to having visitors in the house, thundered upstairs in their usual manner. As soon as he came downstairs in the morning they liked to race to the top full speed and fling themselves from the bedroom door on to the bed in one splendid Baryshnikov leap. They were gone before he could stop them and he distinctly heard Vash say ‘Wah!’ in astonishment, before the pair of them thundered back down with their tails in bloom and disappeared into the garden and under the ceanothus.
Atherton hastened upstairs. Emily was sitting up in bed, clutching the duvet to her chest, looking bleary. ‘What the hell was that?’ she asked thickly.
‘The cats. I’m sorry, they dashed off before I could stop them. I’ll keep them shut in downstairs now and you can go back to sleep.’
She rubbed her eyes. ‘You’re dressed,’ she said.
‘I have to go to work. But you can go back to sleep. You must need it.’
‘No, no,’ she said, beginning to wriggle to the edge of the bed. ‘I want to come in with you. I want to know what’s happening. When do you have to leave?’
‘About fifteen minutes. I was just making some coffee.’
‘Me for that,’ she said. ‘I’m a really quick dresser. I’ll be downstairs in five minutes. Don’t go without me.’
Well, at least she didn’t seem either embarrassed or angry, he thought, going downstairs again. It seemed like an excellent start – unless she’d completely forgotten the events of the night before? Oh, there was a depressing thought!
But when she appeared, really only five minutes later, she gave him a shy look as she took the mug of coffee from him and said, ‘About last night – I want you to know it wasn’t just, you know, Dad and everything. I hope you didn’t feel, well, forced into it.’
‘God, no!’ he said fervently, handing her a mug of coffee. ‘I was just hoping you didn’t feel I’d taken advantage of you.’
‘If I remember rightly, I was the one who made the advances. And it would have been hard for you to push me away, in the circumstances.’
‘Pushing you away was the last thing I wanted.’
‘I’m glad about that,’ she said. ‘Can we . . .? I don’t know how to put this . . .’
‘Carry on where we left off?’ he suggested.
‘Something like that.’ There was colour in her cheeks and she was looking down into the mug as if the coffee was a crystal ball.
‘I said you could stay here as long as you liked, and that still goes. Even more so.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. At that moment, fortunately, the kits came back, tiptoeing to the back door, boggling at her, and she put her mug down and hunkered, holding out her fingers to them. ‘Come on, you two, I’m not a monster. Isn’t it amazing how something as dainty as a cat can make so much noise? They sounded like a cattle stampede coming upstairs.’
So it seemed that everything was all right.
Slider woke feeling unrested, and guessed from the heaviness of Joanna’s movements that she felt the same. When she came back from the bathroom she put her arms round him and said, ‘I half wish I didn’t have these dates. I don’t want to be away from you. I hate that man.’
‘I feel the same way.’
He cooked breakfast while she packed an overnight bag, which he took out to the car, looking carefully in all directions before each movement. But all seemed quiet and he did not feel the sensation of being watched. He supposed even crazed psychopaths had to sleep, and they were deliberately starting off early, before anything that would be normal time for either of them. Even so he watched the rear view all the time, and scrutinised every car that came in sight for unusual behaviour. In the station yard he transferred her things to her own car.
‘Be careful,’ he said, hugging her. ‘Change speeds and lanes every now and then and watch for anyone following you. I don’t think anyone will, but it’s best to keep an eye out. If you’re worried about anything, phone me.’
She held him close for a moment, and he felt the baby kick him through both their sets of clothes. Then she pulled away, releasing him to the work he had to do. ‘Be brilliant, Inspector.’
‘I will. Be talented, beautiful and desirable.’
‘How can I help it?’
There were two telephone messages for him on his desk and he sat down and returned the calls while it was quiet. The first was from Freddie Cameron.
‘No surprises, old bean,’ he said. ‘Death was caused by the blow to the head. Would have been virtually instantaneous. We’re talking about something rounded, possibly padded, very heavy, and wielded with great force. Cease looking for frail women, old-age pensioners or children.’
‘Isn’t it always the last person you suspect?’
‘Not in this life. One other thing – there were traces of oil on the pockets, where chummy went through them, and a large mark on the sleeve of the jacket, where I suppose it was pulled back to expose the watch. From first tests it looks like motor oil of some kind. Do you want it tested further?’
‘Might as well. I don’t think there’ll be any budgetary restraints on this one. Send off the best sample to Les Patterson, will you?’
‘Ah, the alien-substances chappie. Will do. Anything else?’
‘I don’t think so, at the moment, thanks, Freddie.’
The second message was from Bob Bailey. Slider tried his office, and was told he was at the site already, and rang him there on his mobile.
‘I thought you’d like to know that we came up with more oil traces,’ Bailey said. ‘On the files in that filing cabinet and on the front door. I think we can get a good enough sample to analyse, possibly get a match when you get a suspect. D’you want to go ahead?’
‘Yes, please. Bung it off to Les Patterson, will you? Freddie Cameron says he’s found oil on the clothes, too.’
‘Careless buggers, criminals,’ said Bailey.
‘Anything else?’
‘Footprints by the filing cabinet. Two, where he stood still, probably while he was looking through the drawer. They’re really only impressions in the pile of the carpet, so I can’t get much for you – no nice whorls and lugs – but it looks to be some kind of heavy boot, not the leather-soled city shoes the victim was wearing. And smaller. Victim wore a size eleven, and these are a nine at the most – I’d say possibly even an eight, given that with a boot the outside profile tends to be bigger than with a shoe. Any good?’
