Her mouth fell open; and then she laughed. At that moment, it ranked among the most delicious sounds that Mario had ever heard. ‘Daft,’ she exclaimed, ‘unpredictable, and at times plain bloody stupid. With or without a baby, I’m every bit as happy as Lou McIlhenney, and it’s all because of you.’
She eased herself out of his grasp, walked to the wine cabinet and took out a bottle of Pinot Grigio. ‘I’m not just unsettled because of last night,’ she said, as she pulled the lever of the wall-mounted corkscrew. ‘I’ve felt this way for a while, and it’s only now that I’ve worked out in my head what it is.’ She handed him a glass, as he looked at her quizzically. ‘The way we live is great; let me say that straight off. It’s easy, no commitment either way, both of us independent. But the thing is, love, I just feel it’s time to become a proper couple.’
‘You mean as in married?’
‘I don’t give a toss about being married. But I want to give you more, I want to make a commitment to you. The independence notion is nonsense; my happiness depends on you.’
He sipped his wine, its chill contrasting with the warm wave that he felt flow through him. ‘And mine on you,’ he told her, ‘every bit as much. Whatever you want, it’s yours.’
‘You always say that. Sometimes I feel that I’m taking advantage of you.’
‘No.’ He grinned at her. ‘Paula, let’s stop faffing around. After tonight, I don’t want you just to go home as usual. Neil and Lou are right, we’re not fooling anyone. I’d like you to move in here. Or, if you prefer it, I’ll move into your place. Or, if you want a third option, we could buy a house together. I’ve been up for this for a while; I felt it had to come from you, that’s all.’ He paused and the grin became a chuckle. ‘Hey, do you think Nana Viareggio’s ready for it?’
‘Nana Viareggio’s ready to see off Armageddon,’ Paula retorted. ‘She can handle the idea of two of her grand-children living together. I know this, because I’ve spoken to her about it. She told me that she’s been waiting for it to happen for twenty years, and if it does, she’ll die happy . . . although she did add that she doesn’t plan to do that for a while. As for our mothers, they’re used to the idea.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Now that’s sorted, when do we make the move?’
She winked at him. ‘I’ve got two suitcases in my car: that’s the real reason I was late. But, Mario, there is something else, and it does have to do with last night. For all your fertility situation, as long as we’ve been . . . together, I’ve been on the pill. Silly of me, maybe, but I’ve always been one for belt and braces, if you know what I mean.’
‘And now you want to take your belt off?’
She nodded.
‘To give an even break to the few miserable sperm that I might produce?’
She nodded.
He put down his glass and took her in his arms again. ‘Then unbuckle the damn thing right now, although I warn you, we’ve got a better chance of winning the lottery than of you getting pregnant with me.’
‘Hey, somebody wins that every week,’ she pointed out. ‘But I just want to buy a ticket, that’s all.’
‘You can have as many tickets as you like,’ he lifted her off her feet and headed for the door, ‘starting right now.’
He had almost reached the bedroom when the phone rang. He swore quietly. ‘I’ve got to answer it,’ he said, setting her down. ‘You know that as long as I’m in this job, I’ll always have to answer it?’
‘I can live with that,’ she replied. ‘Go on.’
He took one pace towards the sideboard and snatched a cordless telephone from its cradle. ‘McGuire,’ she heard him bark testily, and felt a moment of sympathy for whoever was at the other end of the line.
‘Yes, Stevie,’ he continued. His forehead twisted into a heavy frown. ‘Shit. It doesn’t get any easier, does it? I’ll be there inside half an hour.’ He paused. ‘Of course I’ve got something better to do,’ he bellowed, ‘but it’s my fucking job to be there.’
He slammed the phone back into its cradle. ‘Sorry, love.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It is your fucking job, right enough. I’ll come with you. I’ll wait in the car while you do what you have to do. Once you’re done, it’ll cost you dinner somewhere fancy: sod the pasta for tonight.’ She laid a hand on his cheek, and flashed him a smile that on anyone else might have seemed demure. ‘Get used to it, love: this is how it’s going to be.’
Twenty-four
‘Maybe I’ve been at this game too long, boss,’ said Ray Wilding, as he forced his way past the last thorn bush and back on to the sandy path. ‘I can’t remember the last time I chucked my load at a crime scene.’ His tunic was splashed with the evidence of his weakness.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Steele reassured him. ‘I can . . . and it wasn’t that long ago either.’
‘What do you think got him in such a state? He’s only been there for a day and a half, yet the poor bastard’s face is chewed off. Was it crows, or seagulls, do you think?’
‘I doubt it,’ PC Reid muttered. ‘Normally you’d say so, but I doubt if birds that size could have got to him through the bushes. If they did they’d have been trapped there. No, I’d say it was foxes. There are plenty of them around here.’
Sniffer dogs had found the young man’s body. There had been two false alarms, both due to the searchers happening upon the remains of cats in the undergrowth, but the third time had proved lucky, if not for the victim. He had been dragged, naked, for a hundred yards, before being left, jammed between two bushes, food for the scavengers. They had gnawed on more than his face, as the two detectives had discovered when they had forced their way through the tangle to reach him; his genitals were mangled, and blood-smeared bone was exposed in several places.
‘That could not have been easy,’ Steele murmured to his sergeant. ‘This guy is strong; that’s the one thing we do know about him. Him? Yes, almost certainly. I don’t see a woman doing that. Strong and agile.’
‘He’d have dragged him in a straight line from the clearing, I suppose, whereas we forced our way through from the nearest path. Maybe that was easier.’
‘I don’t see that: it’s fucking jungle in there, all of it.’
‘He must have picked up a few scratches doing it,’ Wilding commented, licking blood from a tear on the back of his hand.
‘Depends what he was wearing. Gloves, a heavy anorak: they’d protect him from the thorns.’
‘True, but I bet you he didn’t get out of there intact. What do you think he did with the boy’s gear? He’s moved his clothes and his rucksack.’
‘The dogs are looking now,’ Reid told the sergeant. ‘If he’s dumped them around here, they’ll find them, now that they’ve got the lad’s scent.’
‘I can smell him from here,’ said a voice from behind them, as Mario McGuire trudged along the path. He glanced at Wilding’s tunic. ‘Or is that you, Ray? Nasty, is it?’
Steele nodded, then described what they had found.
‘I suppose I’d better take a look.’ The head of CID sighed.
‘I doubt if you could, sir. It was a tight squeeze for Ray and me, and you’re bigger than either of us. Anyway, Arthur Dorward’s sent his smallest officer in to photograph the body
‘If it’s that tight, how are we going to get the body out?’
‘Reid’s fixed that: he’s been on to a farmer he knows. Once Dorward’s team have finished in there, he’ll go in with a chainsaw and cut a pathway for the mortuary crew.’
‘He knows what he’ll see in there?’
‘The body’ll be covered up.’
‘Fine. Why do you think the shooter hid the man,’ McGuire asked suddenly, ‘yet left the woman for all to see?’
‘I reckon he’s playing games, running blockers, trying to distract us, making us use up our resources doing all this stuff.’
‘I think I agree with you. He’s using up the first vital hours after the crime. He’s smart and he knows his statistics. Most murders are solved within a couple of days; those that aren’t might never be.’
