'Don't be it's the only poem I know. Your version sounds much more appropriate. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Annabelle, and it sounds as if you gave them something to think about. So when are you coming home? You know I'll be extremely happy to come and fetch you.'
'Ah. That's why I rang.' her voice had dropped several tones. 'Would you be very disappointed if I stayed down here for the New Year, Charles? Xav rang me earlier today and said he would like to show me the designs for the next restaurant. Apparently it is nearly at the decoration stage and he needs to move fast if he's changing things. He says he will even pay me consultancy fees, would you believe? Do you mind, love? I'll come back if you insist.'
What do you say? Do you insist? The words no win situation are not usually anywhere near the tip of my tongue, but right then I couldn't think of a better expression.
'Oh,' I said.
'It's only a couple of days. I'll come back on the train, the day after New Year's day.'
That was three days. 'Er, right,' I mumbled. 'You'veer caught me off balance. I was looking forward to coming to collect you.'
'Oh, I'm sorry if I've upset your plans, Charles, but I really would like to have a go at this. It's a wonderful opportunity.'
Bugger my plans, I thought, it's me that's upset. 'Yes, I can see that,' I told her. 'Don't worry about me. You show those experts a thing or two that they couldn't learn at college, and tell me all about it when you come home, eh?'
'I knew you would understand, and you know what they say?'
'What's that?'
'Absence makes the heart grow fonder, of course.'
'Of course.' And so does lying in each other's arms under a duvet, with the rain blowing soundlessly against the double glazing and Rimsky's Sheherazade playing very low on the CD. And I know which I prefer.
You don't see a suspect for weeks, then two come along at the same time. I was listening to Today on Radio 4, mug of tea in hand, feet on the gas fire, when the phone rang. The Prime Minister was on the radio, delivering his New Year message. Law and Order was high on the priority list again. He was determined to make Britain a safer place for young and old alike. Measures would be announced to curb the increasing tendency towards violence and he promised five thousand more policemen on the beat by the end of next year. I yawned and reached for the phone.
A refrigerated van had drawn up at the end of Ged Skinner's street and a figure answering to his description had leaped down from it, carrying a sports bag, and entered the squat.
'I'll be with you in about twenty minutes,' I said.
I was pulling my coat on when the phone rang again.
'Priest.'
'It's Maggie, Boss. I didn't want to ring you last night, but I went for a look-round with Janet Saunders and we found Darryl.'
'Brilliant! Well done.'
'He's called Darryl Buxton, but we've nothing on him.'
'Great. Look, Maggie, I'm sorry to cut you off in your finest hour, but I'm on my way to lift the bloke we think did the doctor. You stay with it today, see what else you can find, and I'll have a word with you later. OK?'
'Will do. Good luck.'
'Cheers.'
The unseasonable weather was changing; the sky clearing and the breeze swinging to the North. I pulled my down-filled jacket out of the closet and swapped the contents of my pockets round. Once I wore it up mountains, but now it was just another winter coat. Outside, the field fares were stuffing themselves with my cotoneaster berries, as if they knew something we didn't.
A panda car was parked two streets away from the squat, with Sparky's Escort behind it. I pulled in behind them and spoke to the crew of the panda.
'Let's get on with it,' I said.
One of them lifted a radio. 'Mr. Priest is here. Ready when you are.'
'OK,' came the reply. 'Let's go go go!'
We didn't make a fuss. Just drove to the front and back of the house and marched into the yard. I hammered on the door.
Sparky nodded at my jacket. 'Expecting bad weather?'
I nodded and sniffed. 'Smell that breeze,' I said. 'That's ice, straight from the Arctic'
He looked up at the sky and sniffed audibly. 'And polar bear shit,' he confirmed.
A bleary-eyed woman in a pink candlewick housecoat came to the door. It was only seven a.m. but she'd no doubt still be wearing it at noon. She had a ring through her nose and on her throat was the biggest ripe blackhead I've ever seen. I could hardly take my eyes off it. The nearest she got to soap was on TV five evenings per week.
'Police,' I said. 'We believe Ged Skinner is here. Could you find him, please.'
'I'll, ergo look,' she mumbled, and tried to close the door. I put my arm out to hold it open and went in. Sparky and a City DC followed me.
'Ged!' the woman shouted. 'It's the police, for you!'
We were standing in a dismal passage with brown walls and lino on the floor. A pram and a bike took up most of the room and several kid's toys lay around. Doors opened and inquisitive faces, mainly children's, poked round them. A little girl appeared, wearing a short vest and no knickers. She stared up at us, fingers in her mouth.
Sparky spoke to her. He's good with kids and I'm grateful.
Skinner came bouncing down the stairs wearing a T-shirt with the Nike logo on the front and shell suit bottoms with don't-I-look-stupid stripes under one knee. He was about five foot nine, with longish hair and a little wisp of a beard. His complexion looked as if it came with extra mozzarella. 'What's up?' he asked.
'Ged Skinner?'
'Yeah. What of it?'
'We'd like a word with you, somewhere more private. How about coming out to the car?'
'What's it about?'
'We'll tell you there.'
'I'm having my breakfast,' he protested. 'I've just come in.'
'We won't keep you long,' I said. Fifteen years was the time I had in mind. The passage was filling with people of assorted ages and states of dress.
'E's only just come in,' a spotty youth in what looked like a Dodgers nightshirt confirmed. I didn't know they did nightshirts.
'Look,' I told Skinner. 'We need to talk to you. It can either be here or down at the station, the choice is yours.'
'I'm not going anywhere 'less you tell me what it's about.'
The woman with the blackhead had adopted a protective stance alongside him. 'Why don't you leave us alone?' she ranted. 'We 'aven't done nothing.'
I was waiting for the next line: 'Why aren't you out catching murderers,' but she said: 'Aven't you anything better to do?'
'Are you coming out to the car?' I demanded.
'I'm not going nowhere unless you tell me what it's about.'
'OK, have it your way. Ged Skinner, I am arresting you on suspicion of being involved in the death of Dr. Clive Jordan. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand? Good, let's go.'
The spectators were stunned into silence, except for the little girl who started to cry. 'The doctor?' Skinner said, shaken. 'You think it was me what did the doctor?'
'Take him in,' I told Sparky, 'and let's have this place searched.'
