10. That’s for Remembrance
Friday morning dawned fine and clear.
Markham and Olivia breakfasted together on their minuscule balcony, savouring the summer peace.
His girlfriend had been in bed when Markham arrived home the previous night and now listened with concerned interest to news of the latest developments.
‘But no breakthrough yet, Gil?’
‘None to speak of, dearest.’ He toyed with his food.
‘Did you go to see the poor woman’s next of kin?’ She knew how Markham dreaded those conversations but was nevertheless punctilious about doing them, never leaving the task to junior officers.
‘Her niece Jayne . . . healthcare assistant at the practice . . . I couldn’t get near her for most of the day. She was all over the place. They had to give her a shot of something to calm her down, poor kid. I’m not sure she really registered anything I said . . .’
‘No other family, then?’
‘No, it was just the two of them.’ He paused. ‘They shared a house in Pelham Place.’
Olivia’s cup of coffee was halfway to her mouth but she set it down abruptly.
‘I’m sorry, Gil,’ she said softly. ‘That’s where you found Brian Shaw’s body in the ballet investigation, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ he forced a shaky laugh. ‘The residents must feel that street’s jinxed.’ Suddenly, he badly wanted to speak of other things.
‘I met Muriel Noakes at the surgery yesterday.’
Olivia was instantly diverted. ‘Oh God. Commiserations, Gil. How was She Who Must Be Obeyed? Driving all the receptionists round the twist?’
‘Well, oddly enough she wasn’t as obnoxious as usual.’
‘Really?’ His girlfriend chuckled. ‘What’s brought about this Damascene conversion, then?’
‘She was worried about Noakesy.’
Olivia’s affection for his lumbering sergeant ran deep. Markham had never been able to fathom the basis for their mysterious affinity, but there was genuine warmth and respect on both sides. And Noakes never spoke of his girlfriend’s ‘book-learning’ in anything other than tones of hallowed respect. ‘I think she must have cast a spell on my husband,’ was Muriel’s acid verdict, and there was some truth in that. Markham often caught him contemplating Olivia with the same rapt attention a knight of the Round Table might have bestowed on the celestial Guinevere. Yes, at some strange, subterranean level, Olivia had tapped an unexpectedly poetic strain in Noakesy, transforming him into CID’s least likely troubadour — and leading to much twitting of Noakes in the station canteen. Devoted to his bossy, strident wife, the only other manifestation of Noakes’s aestheticism was his light-footed dexterity on the dance floor. Though, from what Muriel had said about his weight issue, it looked as though his virtuosity might now be under threat.
‘What’s amiss with our George?’
‘Prostate trouble, apparently, though mercifully we didn’t get down to the nitty-gritty details.’
‘You’ll keep tabs won’t you, Gil?’ she said with almost maternal solicitude for his number two. ‘He’s Robin to your Batman, y’know.’
‘Not without losing a couple of stones he isn’t.’ Markham chuckled, before adding more seriously, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye.’ Another chuckle. ‘And so will Kate Burton. Once I invoke her reforming zeal, there’ll be no more sneaky pies or pasties. Doctor Kellogg, here we come!’
Olivia gurgled. ‘Oh dear. Kate’d give Torquemada a run for his money.’ But it was said affectionately. She respected the DS’s terrier-like tenacity and had long since intuited her hopeless infatuation with Markham — an infatuation made all the more poignant by Kate’s gallant attempts to conceal it. George Noakes had guessed it too, she knew, but neither of them had ever said a word and kept Kate’s secret inviolate.
‘So, what’s on the agenda for today?’ she asked. ‘C’mon, Gil, get some toast down you. I’m wolfing the lot here!’
‘You could scoff an entire Warburtons’ factory and not put on an ounce,’ he responded admiringly. ‘But me . . . middle-aged spread and all that.’
‘Don’t be daft, you need to keep your strength up . . . for fending off Sidney, if nothing else.’
Markham groaned. ‘As if I needed reminding!’ He poured himself another black coffee. ‘It’s the press conference this morning.’
‘Oh bad luck, sweetheart. I suppose that means Gavin Conors and his cohorts will be out in force.’ She grimaced. ‘You’ll have your work cut out stopping a punch-up . . . Doesn’t George absolutely loathe Conors?’
‘Indeed . . . a feeling entirely reciprocated.’ He too gave a grimace. ‘I read Noakesy the riot act last night. There’s to be no deviation from the agreed script.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘The Gospel According to Sidney. “Unprovoked attack on an attractive young woman . . . Too early to say whether these cases are linked . . . Police following a number of promising leads . . . Tragically, surgeries and medical facilities attract unbalanced attention . . . Public should be vigilant but no cause for alarm” blah blah blah.’
She stared at him, incredulous. ‘Does Sidney seriously believe this is down to some homicidal fruitcake with a “thing” for surgeries?’
‘You’re missing the point, dearest.’ Markham grinned sourly. ‘What matters is to avoid any breath of scandal. No suggestion of doctor-nurse shenanigans or anything nasty in the local civic woodshed . . .’
‘Such as?’
‘Inappropriate behaviour by teachers . . . breach of professional standards . . . dodgy goings-on at Hope Academy . . . And that’s just for starters.’
He filled her in on the Phil Carmichael story and the likelihood that Rebecca Shawcross was by no means the wholesome young woman she appeared.
Olivia looked stunned. ‘What does Mat Sullivan have to say about Rebecca?’
‘He didn’t really want to go there. Told me he never really knew her that well . . . Compared her to an iceberg . . . y’know, ninety-nine percent submerged.’
‘Did you bring up all this about her accusing an NQT?’
‘He said he didn’t really know much about
