Disordered Minds

Trent glanced at the card, then used his bulk to shepherd Andrew out of the room. 'She's a complete dipstick, that girl,' he said with irritation. 'I left them behind the till in the bar and told her to hand them over when the car arrived. If you retrace your steps and tell her I said you could have them, you'll be fine.' He looked up the stairs as footsteps sounded on the landing.

Andrew followed his gaze. 'It wasn't her fault. She was expecting a policeman.'

A woman appeared on the landing and started down the steps, only to pause when she saw Roy had company. The light was dim but Andrew had a glimpse of a pale face beneath a dark fringe before the landlord thrust against him and forced him to step backward. 'I'll come with you,' he said affably. 'Knowing Tracey, she probably won't be able to find them. You know the saying the lights are on but there's no one at home-it was written for her. She's pretty enough-decorates the bar nicely- but that's about all.'

Andrew, annoyed by the shoving, recognized that Trent was talking for the sake of talking and decided to dig his heels in. 'Is that the woman who helped Jonathan at the station?' he asked, coming to an abrupt halt and turning round. 'If so, I'd like to thank her.'

Trent shook his head. 'No.'

'No what? No, it wasn't her ... or no, I can't thank her?'

'It wasn't her.'

Andrew showed surprise. 'How do you know without asking? She matches the description Jon gave, and the woman said she knew you.'

Trent's smile didn't reach his eyes. 'A lot of people know me, mate, but that's not the lady that helped your friend. This one's just arrived.' He gestured impatiently to Andrew to proceed. 'Now ... do you want this wallet or not?'

Andrew led the way back into the lounge bar and watched Trent retrieve a slim black leather holder from behind the till with a passport tucked between its folds. 'Check it by all means,' he said, 'but, like I told the copper who phoned, there's very little in it. If anything's missing, it went missing before Dr. Hughes got here.'

Andrew opened it and flicked through the contents. 'Nothing's missing,' he agreed. 'The only thing unaccounted for is how it came to drop out of his briefcase. It's the old-fashioned upright sort and it doesn't fall over very easily. Even if it did, it wouldn't lose its contents.'

There was a lull in the conversation on the other side of the bar as curiosity drew the customers to listen. Suddenly, Trent had time on his hands. 'Listen, mate, I'm just the guy who found it,' he said good-humoredly. 'If it wasn't in his briefcase, then it was in his jacket pocket. I don't see it matters one way or the other-long as he gets it back. You just tell him I'm glad it worked out for the best.'

Andrew smiled. 'Ms. Gardener watched him transfer it from his jacket to the case ... and Dr. Hughes checked that it was still there before he left the pub.'

Trent shrugged. 'Then he made a mistake. What's the big deal, anyway? You said yourself there's nothing missing.' He caught the eye of one of his customers and pulled a comical face. 'What's the world coming to, eh, Tom? You keep a guy's wallet safe, and the next thing you know you're being hauled over the coals for it. Me, I was expecting thanks ... but I might as well have been pissing in the wind. Forget gratitude-' he shifted his attention back to Andrew-'it's all about compensation these days.'

Andrew chuckled as he tucked the wallet into his own breast pocket. 'At least be honest-er- mate. The police have already told you there's no question of compensation.' His eyes snapped in challenge. 'I'm sure you know as well as anyone that truth is in the detail ... and I'm one of those boring people who finds detail interesting.' He extended an open palm. 'Thank you. Jon will be very grateful to have everything back intact.' He gripped Trent's hand, very much as Jonathan had done earlier, crunching the metacarpals in a surprisingly strong grasp for a small man. 'It's been interesting seeing the way you do business.'

*9*

Andrew folded himself into the car and leaned across Jonathan to retrieve his mobile from the dashboard pocket. He punched in the numbers for directory inquiries. 'Yes, please, Bournemouth. The Birches, Hathaway Avenue ... it's a nursing home.' The sergeant wasn't the only one with a retentive memory, he thought, as he clicked onto the nursing home number. 'Yes, hello, I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour but I was wondering if I could have a quick word with George Gardener ... no, it's not personal ... it's a follow-up on the call she had earlier from Sergeant Lovatt.' He absorbed the irritation from the other end. 'I do apologize. You have my guarantee I'll only keep her for a minute or two. Yes, I'll wait ... thank you.'

He plugged the mobile into the car microphone, then took out Jonathan's wallet and handed it to him. 'Trent's a bastard,' he said cheerfully, 'and I think I've just seen your dark-haired thief.'

Jonathan looked at him in surprise. 'You don't know what she looks like.'

'No,' Andrew agreed, 'but she had a dark fringe and Trent didn't want me anywhere near her. He frogmarched me away.'

A breathy voice came through the car speakers. 'Hello. This is George Gardener.'

'Andrew Spicer, Ms. Gardener. Jonathan's agent. You contacted him through my office, if you remember.'

'They said it was the sergeant again.'

'It's the same matter. I was with Sergeant Lovatt when you spoke to him earlier. I wonder if you'd be kind enough to confirm one small detail for me. Jon tells me you watched him take off his jacket and put his wallet and passport in his briefcase. Is that right?'

'Yes,' she said without hesitation. 'He was very meticulous about it.'

'Did he take it out again at any point?'