CHAPTER
17
The unheard invisible lovely dead
Lie with us in this place …
RUPERT BROOKE,
from “Mummia”
He slept the deep and dreamless sleep of exhaustion, not stirring when the oblong of uncurtained window paled to gray, then to rose, then to the clear, washed blue of an April morning. When the phone rang, he fumbled for it with a vague awareness of the sound’s meaning.
Managing to get the receiver to his ear, he mumbled, “Kincaid,” as he opened one eye and squinted at the clock. Eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Bloody hell. This had better be good.
“Duncan?” The voice was strained, apologetic. “This is Bob Potts. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we have a problem and I didn’t know who else to ring.”
Kincaid heard the panic beneath the carefully chosen words and came fully awake. “Problem? What sort of problem?”
Potts cleared his throat. “It’s Kit. He seems to have… um… that is, he seems to have gone missing.”
“What do you mean, missing? Surely he’s just gone out for a bit.” Kincaid sat up, and in spite of his calming words, he was aware of the sudden pounding of his heart.
“His bed’s not been slept in. I went to wake him…” Potts paused and cleared his throat again. “I’ve looked everywhere. There’s no trace of him, and the dog’s gone, too.”
“What dog?” Kincaid remembered Vic telling him that one of the great regrets of her childhood was that she’d never been allowed a pet. Her mother had disliked animals, and Kincaid thought it unlikely that Eugenia’s feelings on the matter had mellowed. He reached for the pad and pencil he kept by the telephone. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what happened.”
“Kit brought a dog home from the supermarket, a stray mongrel,” said Potts. “But I really don’t see what —”
“Just start from the beginning. I won’t have a clear picture to work with unless you tell me everything.” Kincaid tried to keep the impatience from his voice.
“All right,” Potts agreed, still sounding reluctant. “It seems Kit found this dog behind the Tesco yesterday afternoon, while he was sheltering from a rainstorm. He made up his mind to keep it, and, of course, Eugenia… um… that is, we didn’t think it appropriate.” Potts hesitated a moment before adding, “Kit was rather upset, although we did reach a compromise.”
“And what was that?” Kincaid asked, with some skepticism.
“I convinced Eugenia to let him keep the dog in the garage overnight, until I could take it to the shelter this morning. I assured him that they would do their best to find it a home.”
Some comfort that would have been, when Kit must have known that the dog’s chances of adoption and survival were slim at best. “I take it Kit wasn’t happy with your solution?”
“Uh, no,” said Potts, and from his tone Kincaid could imagine Kit, white-faced and silent with fury. “He went to bed without his tea, so this morning I thought I’d take him his breakfast first thing—”
“Were any of his things missing?”
“I… I don’t know. I didn’t think of that,” Potts answered, sounding more distressed. “I looked for him outside at first—I thought he must have taken the dog for a walk, but surely he’d be back by now. It’s been more than two hours …”
“Did he leave a note?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
That could be good news or bad, thought Kincaid. “Did he take any money?”
“I … I’m afraid I don’t know that, either. If you’ll hang on a moment, I’ll have a look.” There was a clatter as Potts put the phone down. Kincaid heard voices, muted at first, then Eugenia’s strident tones came more clearly. Potts came back on the line. “Eugenia had a twenty-pound note in her purse yesterday, and now it’s missing,” he said, his voice rising in competition with his wife’s.
“How could he?” Kincaid heard Eugenia wail. “After all we’ve done. We’ve suffered enough as it is—”
“I think it’s Kit who’s suffered quite enough,” Kincaid snapped. “You should be glad he took the money. It makes it less likely he meant to harm himself.”
“Eugenia, for God’s sake, be quiet!” shouted Potts. Into the stunned silence that followed, he said, hesitantly, “You don’t think…”
Regretting his outburst, Kincaid said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sure he’s all right. But he’s shocked and grieving, and we have to consider that his behavior may not be predictable just now.”
“What should we do?” asked Potts, making an obvious effort at control.
Kincaid thought. The local force were not going to show much enthusiasm in looking for a boy missing only two
