purposes.
How long had Kirsty and Sollers been meeting quietly? Months? Years? Bliss thought of how she’d looked the last time he’d taken the kids back. The short skirt, the classy make-up. Thinking she’d done that for him, to let him know what he was missing. He felt… not so much humiliated as ashamed.
And afraid. Afraid of the implications for the future. His kids. And also… ‘You know what this means? It means I can’t touch him, Karen. It means I can’t nail the cun-’ He straightened up. ‘Sorry, sorry. If I sound like I’m coming apart, it’s because I am. The friggin’ twisted irony of it…’
‘Have you even got anything on him? Anything? ’
‘You know how much I’ve got.’
‘Then it’s nothing. And no legitimate reason to connect Mansel’s murder with the Marinescus. I’ll make that coffee.’
Bliss followed Karen into the kitchen.
‘They’ve been stirring it for me. Did you hear that? Did you get that from Stagg, too? How it got back to the Chief Constable that me and Kirsty were splitting up? That it was down to physical abuse?’
Karen turned slowly.
‘Who’s saying that?’
Bliss shrugged.
Karen said. ‘Sollers? Chris Symonds? Kirsty herself?’
‘Hardly matters now – it’s done its job. Persuaded the Chief to take steps to remove me from the division.’
‘You’re not just accepting that?’
‘No. Obviously not. But even taking on the Chief, through the Federation or whatever, means I’m out of here, one way or another.’
‘A few of us won’t stand by and watch it happen. Where’s the coffee?’
‘I’ve had it with this place, anyway. Cupboard over the sink.’
‘Vaynor.’ Karen reached up to the cupboard. ‘Me. Rich Ford, even. What’s this?’
Karen was holding up the last jar of Brazilian decaff.
‘Kirsty must’ve left it,’ Bliss said quickly.
‘No wonder you were doomed – this is what the DCI drinks.’
‘Is it?’
‘You’ve not got anything else?’
‘I don’t spend much time at home these days. Out of interest, do you think Kirsty knows Sollers was shagging a Polish kid from Magnis Berries?’
‘That was a while back. Do you want some more bad news?’
‘Yeh, I’d love that, Karen. It’s what keeps me alive.’
‘It doesn’t…’ Karen opened the coffee jar. ‘This is the other reason I’m here. Doesn’t look like Sollers Bull killed the Marinescus.’
‘ Had them killed. I never said he did it himself.’
‘No.’ Karen shook her head. ‘I haven’t given this to Brian Wilton yet. I met a woman earlier tonight.’
‘One of the toms?’
‘Middle-aged lady who sings in the Cathedral choir.’
‘Takes all sorts.’
‘No, not one of the toms, boss. She’s manageress of Harriet’s of Bridge Street, clothing emporium for the maturer lady?’
Bliss shook his head.
‘Two young women came in, looking at clothes a bit too old for them. There were three elderly customers in at the time, and the girls were being very solicitous to the one not being served. Like, What about this one? Really suits you. You try it on, I look after your bag , kind of thing.’
‘How do you know it was the Marinescus?’
‘Showed her the pictures.’
‘How disappointing,’ Bliss said. ‘Come to something when you can’t even trust a girl with an icon of the Holy Mother any more.’
He started to laugh before he could cry. Another curtain closing.
‘Anyway,’ Karen said, ‘Harriet’s is a small enough shop for the staff to notice these things, and some tops had been nicked the previous week. When she offered to take care of the bag herself, the two girls were out the door in a flash.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me a great deal,’ Bliss said. ‘Also ties in with the new gear in the wardrobe at Goldie’s. Is there a word for a female Fagin? The Marinescus were hard up.’
‘It’s not the first,’ Karen said. ‘Last time, they got away with it. This was a much bigger store than the mail- order surplus place up on the Holmer?’
Bliss waited. Karen spooned coffee into mugs.
‘This was another old lady, right? Eighty-three. They took her bag, containing her purse, photos of the grandchildren… all the usual. She was very, very upset. They called the police and then they had to take her home. Remember it now?’
Bliss nodded vaguely. Karen stood with her back to the cooker.
‘The proprietor rang up the old lady next day. She wasn’t there. She’d been rushed to hospital the previous night.’
‘Did we know about that?’
‘No, we didn’t. She had a long history of strokes, and anyway she made a brief recovery. The family agreed to keep quiet, didn’t want her getting fussed. The shop woman told me that when I rang her. Three weeks later – that would be a week or so ago – the old girl had another stroke and died in hospital.’
‘I see. Handbag.’
Bliss was thinking of the Marinescus, the way one handbag had been emptied out at the scene, the other and its contents trailed all the way to the river.
‘I think you should get to bed, boss,’ Karen said. ‘An early start might be advisable.’
44
No more than a third of the tables in the lounge bar were taken. Merrily had followed Jane to the one under the smallest leaded window, its old glass thick and fogged like frogspawn.
‘Cider?’
‘Please.’ Jane slid into the short bench under the window. Merrily bought two medium-sweet ciders from Barry, looking around for Lol. No sign. Barry gave her a mildly inquiring look; she leaned across the bar, voice lowered.
‘Liz was quite forthcoming, in the end. Though why I should tell you any of it, considering how much you didn ’ t tell me…’
One side of Barry’s mouth twitched. Merrily carried the ciders back to the table. Shadows hung shiftily either side of the mullion.
‘So archaeology is, erm, history.’
Jane didn’t smile.
‘It’s a joke, anyway. Archaeologists can’t get to grips with anything much any more, unless the council wants to do something crass with the land. And whatever they find, it still gets built over. I’d just keep getting annoyed.’
‘You’ll still keep getting annoyed if you don’t have any qualifications. The only difference is, you’ll be regarded as an annoying crank. No one will have to listen to you.’
