He raised the barrier and I was through. I tried to watch him in the rear-view mirror but didn't see anything. He hadn't had the opportunity to read the name on my ID, but it was a fair bet that he wrote my registration number in his log book.
What the hell, I thought, no point in letting it grow cold, and parked in the spot marked ABC, so recently vacated by the man himself. Just inside the front entrance was a receptionist's desk, combined with a switchboard. I gazed at the blonde sitting behind it with awe.
Geological forces were at work underneath her blouse. The thin material was struggling to conceal a demonstration of plate tectonics.
Continents were in collision.
'Can I help you?' she asked with a brassy smile, as she looked up from her True Romances.
'Er, yes,' I stumbled out, endeavouring to hold her gaze. Oh, to have the eyes of a chameleon, one to look here, the other to look there. 'I, er, was hoping to see Mr. Cakebread.'
'Oh! you've just missed him. He left about five minutes ago, for the airport. He's flying to Spain. He has his own plane, you know, flies himself all over the place. I think it's ever so exciting.' She went glassy-eyed with the romance of travel, then the receptionist training resurfaced: 'Would you like to speak to anybody else, Mr…?'
'No, it had to be Aubrey. I'm a policeman, and I needed a word with him. Any idea when he'll be back?'
A look of shock spread across her face, and she exclaimed: 'Oh my God!
The policeman, where did I put it?' and started rummaging frantically in her desk. 'Here it is!' she cried triumphantly, holding aloft a manila envelope. She looked at the front of it and read: 'Mr.
Hilditch, is that you?'
'Yes, that's me,' I lied, taking the envelope and putting it in my pocket. 'Now you know my name, you have to tell me yours.'
She gave me the warm, confident smile of someone who has narrowly missed making a cock-up and doesn't yet know they have made an even bigger one. 'Gloria,' she told me, coyly.
'It suits you,' I said. 'How long have you worked for Aubrey?' We were interrupted by the telephone. While she tried to connect somebody I had a glance round. No Van Goghs or Monets were hanging on the walls, dammit.
'Only about a month, well, this is my third week. I started in the office, then he made me his receptionist.'
'Do you like working for him?'
'Ooh yes, ever so much. Did you know he's a multimillionaire? He's got a plane and a boat, and flats all over the place. Says he'll take me on his boat one day.' She was looking dreamy again.
'Whereabouts in Spain has he gone? Do you know, Gloria?'
'Marbella, I think. He's got a boat there. Don't know where it is but I've heard of it. Sounds ever so romantic. Do you ever go to any of his parties, Mr. Hilditch?'
'It's Ernest, you can call me Ernie. Yes, I've been to a couple at The Ponderosa. Old Aubrey certainly knows how to throw a party.'
'Oh, I'd love to go to The Ponderosa. I meant the parties he holds here, in his suite upstairs.'
'No. To tell the truth, I didn't know he had a suite here.
Crafty so-and-so's kept it a secret from me. Probably scared I'll pinch all the girls.'
'It's fabulous,' she gushed, 'carpets up to your knees, and the colours are gorgeous everything matches. He showed me round it once. Says he'll invite me to the next party.'
'I might see you there, then.' The clock behind her head showed a quarter to twelve. 'How about letting me take you for a bite of lunch?
What time are you free?'
Her smile looked almost demure. 'That will be lovely,' she cooed.
'About half past twelve; is that all right?'
'That's fine. Where shall I pick you up? Can you get out of the door at the side?'
'No, I don't think so. I'll meet you just outside the gatehouse, if that's okay.'
'Perfect. So I'll see you in three-quarters of an hour; it's a long time to wait.'
I drove away feeling like a prospector who isn't sure if he's struck gold or diamonds. I headed out of town until I found a suitable pub that served food, so that it looked as if I knew my way around. I parked and took the lumpy envelope from my inside pocket. It contained three keys and a note. One, a nondescript door key was on its own; the other two, a Yale and a Chubb, were on a keyring. The note read:
Ernest,
PM Tue. PM Thur.
Alarm 4297 It was signed with a stylised ABC, similar to the logo on the vans.
He'd obviously spent many hours practising it.
When I arrived back at ABC House I parked just outside the side door.
Looking as if I had every right to be there I tried the Yale key in the lock. It turned. Then I tried the Chubb and that fitted, too. I left the door as I'd found it and set off round to the gatehouse to wait for Gloria. That's when the diamond mine fell in.
As I stopped in the road just short of the entrance, a maroon Daimler did a right turn across the front of me. It was driven by the one and only, the inimitable, appearing for the first time in person, Ernest Hilditch, Chief Constable of the East Pennine force. After a brief word the barrier was raised, and soon he was, no doubt, addressing the considerable charms of Gloria. After a couple of minutes he came storming out and slammed the Daimler's door behind him. As he tore towards the exit the barrier was raised, but he screeched to a halt and leapt out to accost the gate man After a few violent gestures they went into his office. Chief Constable Hilditch was playing at being a policeman, collecting car numbers. Somebody was up Shit Creek with a duff outboard, and it looked like me.
My appetite had gone, so I went straight back to the office. Nigel and Tony Willis were in, going through some cases, solved and unsolved, looking for common denominators.
I gave them a terse 'Any messages?' as I hung up my jacket. It was my I Mean Business entrance.
'Two,' Nigel told me. 'Your friend at the Fraud Squad said to tell you that rumour has it that the American private eye firm, Winkler's, are over here and asking a lot of questions in the shady market. He thinks you may be on to something.'
'Good, and the other?'
'Limbo said be sure not to miss her promotion do tomorrow night.'
I caught Tony's gaze and flashed a glance up at a poster on the wall.
It was headed: 'Racism and Sexism', and went on to say that these would not be tolerated, and any officer hearing racist or sexist language should address it immediately.
'Who's Limbo?' I asked him.
'WPC Limbert, Kim Limbert. She moves to the city on the first, as sergeant.'
We sat in silence for a few moments, then I asked: 'Have you ever thought that she might find being called Limbo offensive?'
'Gosh, no,' he confessed, 'it never occurred to me. Everybody calls her Limbo.'
'Not everybody,' I stated.
Nigel was embarrassed at being caught out, and fell silent. I wouldn't have let him off the hook, but Tony was working with him, so after a while he threw out a lifeline. 'Do you still fancy Kim, Charlie?'
I thought about it, leaning back in my chair and looking up at the ceiling. 'Yes, I think I do, but I've stopped dreaming about her.
Unless I dream about her and forget.'
'Not enough meat on her for me. I prefer something you can dig your fingers into.'
Nigel was looking from one of us to the other, growing visibly agitated.
'Naw,' I disagreed, 'I like them tall and skinny. It's like wrestling with a boa constrictor, lots of points of contact and intertwining limbs.'
Nigel could contain himself no longer. 'What about sexism?' he demanded, 'When are you going to start addressing sexism?'
'Good point, boss,' Tony admitted. 'When do we start addressing sexism?'
