ONE OF THE MYSTERIES OF THE UNIVERSE IS HOW I GOT OUT OF
Castle Dumdivie without confessing that I knew exactly who had had it away on his toes with Lord Andrew Cumberbatch’s nice little Ruisdael. I was only grateful that James Ballantrae was sitting next to me and couldn’t see my face.
After the first seconds of shock, I tried to tell myself I was imagining things. But the longer I watched, the more convinced I was that I was right. I knew those shoulders, those light, bouncing steps. God knows I’d watched that footwork often enough, trying to gauge where the next kick was coming from. I forced myself to sit motionless to the bitter end. Then I said, “I see what you mean. Even their own mothers wouldn’t recognize them from that.”
“Their lovers might,” Ellen said shrewdly. “Don’t they say a person’s walk is the one thing they can never disguise?”
She was bang on the button, of course. “The video makes it look too jerky for that, I’d have thought,” I said.
“I don’t know.” Ballantrae lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Body language and gesture are pretty individual. Look at the number of criminals who get caught by the videos they show on Crimewatch.”
“Told you,” Ellen said fondly. “He’s dying to go on and talk about his art robberies. The only thing that’s holding him back is that all his cronies are terrified about what the publicity might do to their admissions.”
“Yes, but now the cat’s out of the bag with that newspaper story in Manchester, there’s no point in holding back,” Ballantrae said. “Maybe I should give them a ring…”
“Any chance you could let me have a copy of the tape?” I asked. “I’d like to show it to Henry Naismith’s staff while everything’s still fresh in their memories. Perhaps, as Ellen suggests, there might be something in the way these men move that triggers something off. The police reckon they will have gone round the house a couple of times as regular punters, sussing it out, so we might just get lucky if one of Henry’s staff has a photographic memory.”
Ballantrae got up and took the video out of the machine. “Take this one,” he said. “I can easily get Andrew to run me off another copy.”
I took the tape and stood up. “I really appreciated your help on this,” I said. “If anything else should come to mind that might be useful, please give me a ring.” I fished a business card out of my bag.
“What will you do now?” Ballantrae asked.
“Like I said, show the vid to Henry’s staff. I’m also hopeful that the story in the Chronicle might stir the pot a bit. The chances are that it’s not just the robbers themselves who know who they are. Maybe you should think about getting together with your insurance companies and offering a reward. It would make a good follow-up story for the paper and it might just be what we need to lever the lid off things.” I was starting to gabble, I noticed. Time for a sharp exit. I ostentatiously looked at my watch. “I’d better be heading back to the wicked city,” I said.
“You’re sure you’ve got to go?” Ballantrae asked with the pathetic eagerness of a small boy who sees his legitimate diversion from homework disappearing over a distant horizon. “I could show you round the house. You could see for yourself where they broke in.”
Amused, Ellen said, “I’m sure Ms. Brannigan’s seen one or two windows in her time.” Turning to me, she added, “You’re very welcome to stay for lunch, but if you have to get back, don’t feel the need to apologize for turning down the guided tour of Dumdivie’s loot.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I need to hit the road,” I said. “This isn’t the only case we’ve got on right now, and my partner’s out of the country.” I really was withering now. I took a step toward the door. “I’ll keep you posted.”
I drove back to Manchester on automatic pilot, my thoughts whirling. Shelley phoned at one point, but I’m damned if I know what we talked about. When I hit the city, I didn’t go to the office. I didn’t want any witnesses to the conversation I was planning. I drove straight home, glad for once to find Richard was out.
My stomach was churning, so I brewed some coffee and made myself a sandwich of ciabatta, tuna, olives and plum tomatoes. It was only when I tried to eat it and found I had no appetite that I realized it was anxiety rather than hunger that was responsible for the awesome rumblings. Sighing, I wrapped the sandwich in clingfilm and tossed it in the fridge. I picked up the phone. Some money-grabbing computer took ten pence off me for the privilege of telling me Dennis’s mobile was switched off.
Next, I rang the gym. Don, the manager, told me Dennis had been in earlier, but had gone off a couple of hours ago suited up. “If he comes back, tell him I’ve been visiting the gentry and he needs to see me, double urgent. I’ll be at home,” I said grimly.
That left his home. His wife, Debbie, answered on the third ring. She’s got a heart of gold, but she could have provided the model for the dumb blonde stereotype. I’d always reckoned that if a brain tumor were to find its way inside her skull, it would bounce around for days looking for a place to settle. However, I wasn’t planning on challenging her intellect. I just asked if Dennis was there, and she said she hadn’t seen him since breakfast. “Do you know where he is?” I asked.
She snorted incredulously. “I gave up asking him stuff like that fifteen years ago,” she said. Maybe she wasn’t as thick as I’d always thought. “To be honest, I’d rather not know what he’s up to most of the time. Long as he gives me money for the kids and the house and he stays out of jail, I ask no questions. That way, when the Old Bill comes knocking, there’s nothing I can tell them. He knows I’m a crap liar,” she giggled.
“When are you expecting him back?”
“When I see him, love. Have you tried his mobile?”
“Switched off.”
“He won’t have it turned off for long,” Debbie reassured me. “If he comes home before you catch him, do you want me to get him to give you a bell?”
“No. I want him to come round to the house. Tell him it’s urgent, would you?”
“You’re not in any trouble, are you, Kate?” Debbie asked anxiously. “Only, if you need somebody in a hurry, I could get one of the lads to come round.”
Like I said, heart of gold. “Don’t worry, Debbie, I’m fine. I’ve got something I need to show Dennis, that’s all. Just ask him to come round soon as.”
We chatted for a bit about the kids, then I rang off. I knew I should go into the office and pick up Trevor Kerr’s list of former employees, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it. I switched on the computer and loaded up Epic Pinball. I thrashed the ball round the bumpers and ramps a few times, but I couldn’t get into it. My scores would have shamed an arthritic octogenarian. I decided I needed something more violent, so I started playing Doom, the ultimate shoot-‘em-up, at maximum danger level. After I got killed for the tenth time, I gave up and switched the machine off. I know it’s as bad as it can get when I can’t lose myself in a computer game.
I ended up cleaning the house. The trouble with modern bungalows is that it doesn’t take nearly long enough to bottom them when you want a really good angst-letting. By the time the doorbell rang, I’d moved on to purging my wardrobe of all those garments I hadn’t worn for two years but had cost too much for me to dump in my normal frame of mind. A disastrous pair of leggings that looked like stretch chintz curtains were saved by the bell.
Dennis stood on the doorstep, grinning cheerily. I wanted to smack him, but good sense prevailed over desire. It seemed to have been doing that a lot lately. “Hiya. Debbie says you’ve got something for me,” he greeted me, leaning forward to kiss my cheek.
I backed off, letting him teeter. “Something to show you,” I corrected him, marching through into my living room. Without waiting for him to sit down, I smacked the tape into the video, turned on the TV and pressed play. I kept my back to him while the robbery replayed itself before our eyes. As the two burglars disappeared from sight, I switched off the TV and turned to face him.
Dennis’s expression revealed nothing. I might as well have shown him a blank screen for all the reaction I was getting. “Nice one, Dennis,” I said bitterly. “Thanks for marking my card.”
He thrust his hands into the trouser pockets of his immaculate pearl gray double-breasted suit. “What did you expect me to do? Put my hand up when you told me what you was looking into?” he said quietly.
“Never mind what I expected,” I said. “What you did do has dropped me right in it.”
Dennis frowned. “What is this?” he demanded angrily. “You know the kind of thing I do for a living. I’m not
