man in his fifties. He had a thin moustache and a cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth. “Good morning, officer. Can I help you?”
“Officer? Do you know me? Have we met before?”
“No, but I can tell you’re a policeman.”
“Oh. Well, you’re right. I am. Plain clothes.”
Mrs Pargeter smiled sweetly. “I pieced that together too. From your lack of uniform.”
“Right.” Wilkinson reached for his inside pocket. “Would you like to see some identification?”
“I don’t really think I need to. I can tell you’re the genuine article.”
“Oh.” He looked a little nonplussed and withdrew his hand.
“So… how can I help you?”
“Well, it’s a matter in relation to this car, madam,” the Inspector improvised, not very convincingly. “We’ve had a report of a car of this make with this registration number having been seen in the vicinity of an area where a recent crime took place and we are following that up…”
A look of shock came into Mrs Pargeter’s innocent violet-blue eyes. “You’re not suggesting that I might have been involved in something criminal, are you, Inspector?”
“No, no, I – Here, how did you know I’m an Inspector? I didn’t tell you that, did I?”
“No, you didn’t, but it’s self-evident.”
“Ah.” He looked puzzled, and maybe even a little flattered. “Is it?”
“Yes. Now what is it you’re suspecting me of?”
“Nothing, madam. No, we’re not suspecting you of anything. It’s just, as I say, the car was seen in a certain vicinity, where a certain event took place, and we are checking to see if anything was witnessed by the owner of this vehicle.”
“Ah, well…” Mrs Pargeter smiled again. “You don’t want to be talking to me then. I’m not the owner of this vehicle.”
“You’re not?”
“No, no, this is a hire car. It’s owned by Gary.”
“Gary?”
She pointed. “The chauffeur. The one who’s driving.”
“Ah, right.”
“Well, not driving at the moment, but sitting in the driver’s seat.”
“I see.” Wilkinson drew back. “Sorry to have troubled you, madam.”
“No trouble at all, Inspector.” Mrs Pargeter favoured him with the beam of her biggest smile yet. “I think the Metropolitan Police are a fine body of men, and if there’s anything I can ever do to help them, I can assure you I’ll do it.”
“Thank you very much, madam. I wish more members of the public shared that admirable attitude.”
Wilkinson gave Mrs Pargeter a surprisingly long look, then nodded, and she closed the window. The Inspector moved forward and was about to tap on Gary’s window when he noticed it was already down.
“Anything I can do to help you, Inspector?”
“Yes, I gather you are the owner of this vehicle?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“Well, it was seen in the vicinity of an area where a recent crime took place and –”
“Which area?”
“Sorry?”
“In the vicinity of which area was my car seen?”
“Ah. Right. It was… er…” Wilkinson had another go at improvisation, “round Tulse Hill.”
“And when was this?”
“Tuesday.”
“What time of day?”
“About 3 a.m.”
“Sorry, no. I haven’t been to Tulse Hill since… ooh, I don’t know. Certainly not for the last year.”
“Ah, right. Well, thank you for your help. And at least I have established to whom this vehicle belongs.”
“I thought,” Mrs Pargeter’s cool voice floated in from the back, “the police had a computer system to check vehicle ownership.”
“Well, yes, we do,” said the Inspector, confused. In fact, if he’d read the printout Sergeant Hughes had given him, he would have known that the car was registered to Gary. But the obvious was never Wilkinson’s way. “On the other hand, er,” he went on, “it sometimes pays to double-check.”
“Why?”
He tapped his nose shrewdly. “Computers are not infallible, you know.”
“So are you saying that sometimes the old traditional methods are best?”
“Exactly, madam. How very perceptive of you to realize that.” The Inspector by now had his head halfway through Gary’s window so that she could get the full benefit of his smile. There was a silence.
Eventually Mrs Pargeter broke it. “Was there anything else we can do for you, Inspector?”
He seemed miles away. “What? Er, no. Nothing of importance. Thank you, I have all the information I require.”
“Good.”
He continued to grin, with his head half inside the car, then suddenly recovered himself. “Better be on my way.”
“So should we. Shouldn’t we, Gary?”
“Certainly should.”
“But, er…” Wilkinson became once again policeman-like and looked sourly down at Gary. “Next time watch parking on the double yellow lines, eh?”
“Yes, of course, Inspector.”
“Won’t do anything about it this time, but don’t let me catch you doing it again – right?”
“Right.”
Still the Inspector didn’t move from the side of the car. “I think if that really is it,” said Mrs Pargeter, “perhaps we’d better be moving on.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Wilkinson stood back. Gary closed his window and eased the limousine away down the road. The Inspector’s eyes followed it pensively into the distance.
“What do you reckon all that was about?” Gary asked Mrs Pargeter once they were under way.
“Goodness knows.” She chuckled easily. “Nothing to worry about, though.”
“No,” said Gary. “No.” Then, after a moment he added, not quite reassured, “Why not?”
“Because,” Mrs Pargeter replied patiently, “neither of us has done anything wrong, have we?”
“No. No, that’s true.”
¦
“So… was it useful?” asked Sergeant Hughes eagerly when his superior was back in the surveillance car.
“Oh, yes.” The Inspector slowly stroked his chin. “Oh, yes. It was very useful indeed.”
“In what way?”
“I’m afraid I can’t be too specific on that point. Suffice it to say that there are certain moments, certain encounters in one’s life which one instantly recognizes to be of enormous significance…”
“… if one’s a good copper…?” Sergeant Hughes suggested rather sourly.
“If one is a good copper, yes. And I’ve a feeling that that woman I have just met will prove to be extremely significant.”
“In the case that we’re working on?”
“Well, I think I can confidently state…” But the dreamy look in the Inspector’s eye was replaced by his more customary caution. “Maybe it’s better I don’t answer that question for the time being.” The Sergeant’s inward groan of annoyance was very nearly audible. “No, Hughes, you just take my word for it – a good copper can recognize when someone is going to be a significant factor in… er, any kind of operation.”
“Yes,” responded Sergeant Hughes, once again resigned to the role of dumb sidekick. “By the way, sir, what was the lady’s name?”
