Thursday cont.
Cleo's phone call from the new au pair was a surprise.
"It's Toni. I can't be in Middlethumpton till three-o-four, Mrs Hurley. Is that all right?"
"Sure," said Cleo. "I'll let my
husband know. He'll be there."
"I'm sorry about arriving late," said the
girl.
"That's OK, Toni, but don't be surprised if my
husband is expecting a guy. I'm not going to tell him."
".A guy?"
"Yes. We've been speculating about your name.
See you later."
***
"Meet me at the villa," he said.
"But we are not going there today."
"We have to, Cleo. I'm at stand-still here
until I know if Dr Fargo is lying dead on his premises."
"It's lucky for you that the au pair is not
arriving until five oh four."
"How you know that?"
"I got a phone-call."
Cleo was careful not to reveal that Toni was
female.
"I was about to phone you to tell you."
"So you will come to the villa?"
"Now?"
"Yes, now if Grit has time."
The speakers were on, so Grit had heard the whole
conversation.
She nodded.
“You’d better tell Roger,” said Cleo.
“We talked about it, Cleo. They’ll skip the
engagement and move on to the wedding.”
Grit nodded again.
“Awesome,” said Cleo. “Did you have nice lunch?
"Delicious. I’m sorry to wreck your mysterious
plan, whatever that was," said Gary.
"Not mysterious at all. I'll leave here in
five minutes."
***
Gary was propping up the low wall surrounding the
Fargo garden when Cleo drove up.
“There’s no one in,” he said, hugging her intensively.
“That’s not really surprising,” said Cleo. “What about
the garden?”
“Chris had time, so he’s has gone round the back. Nothing
seems to have been disturbed recently and judging from the beautifully trimmed
lawn edges and tidiness I should think a gardener must have still being coming,
so it’s hardly likely that there would be a burial site somewhere.”
“But not impossible, Gary. The gardener might be in
league with the Fargo kids.””
“I’ll have to get them in for questioning, as I
originally planned, and go on from there. There’s no name on the buzzer, by the
way.”
“Perhaps they gave a fake address as well! Did you
check?”
“It isn’t fake. Dr Fargo lives here.”
“Along with those guys?”
“Respectable people don’t give a fake address.”
“Gary, you don’t know if these people are
respectable.”
“Now you mention it, I’m starting to wonder.”
“The truth is that you accepted what the guys said
about that tramp and did not check on anything.”
“It all seemed authentic at the time,” said Gary.
“Snooping round the garden is not such a good idea
either,” said Cleo. “We don’t actually know who the garden belongs to if
there's no name on the doorbell.”
Gary looked distraught.
“Of course, there’s always a chance that the guy
who was supposed to be dead isn’t dead after all,” Cleo mused. “He might still
be upstairs and not answering the door.”
“The Fargos gave this villa as their address,” said
Gary, “and they identified a corpse. Why would they do that if the person they
identified was still alive?”
“Assuming this is legally their house, let’s try a
little logic! If they moved in, it doesn’t mean that the genuine owner moved
out,” Cleo reasoned.
“So why did they identify him as a corpse? What
sort of an act was that? What’s going on, Cleo?”
“Maybe it was just a ruse. Maybe they had plans for
the old doctor guy and the tramp turned up in Joe’s newsy magazine as a
one-liner. Cop’s Corner can be obtained by the general public so the Fargos may
have picked one up. That gave them the idea of identifying the as yet
unidentified tramp as a relative. They could get rid of the genuine relative as
soon as they found a way of doing so. Presuming they had already taken illegal
possession of the villa, or at least moved in knowing that they were the only
relatives and going to inherit when the doctor died.”
”That is so convoluted that only you could think of
it. It’s much too complicated for me, Cleo. What sort of person would do that
anyway?”
“Relatives, Gary. All sorts of nasty things go on
in connection with possessions and bequests. I don’t want to know how many old
people have been ejected from life by their greedy nearest and dearest.”
“Is that what you’ll do with me?” said Gary.
“I need you for the kids,” said Cleo.
“That’s a relief. So what are we going to do about the
Fargos?”
“Haul them in for questioning and meanwhile get a look inside
that villa,” said Cleo. “We should also take a look at the will the old guy
wrote, if there is one. Don’t wills have to be registered somewhere?”
***
Gary was genuinely confused. The procedure devised by Cleo’s
agency and not based on anything except speculation was something he could not
go along with as it stood. Dorothy Price had been viewing too many late night 1930s
movies again. She aided and abetted Cleo wherever she could. He would have a
serious talk with her – soon.
***
“Of course, a closer look at the people calling themselves
Fargo might be helpful, but if there is a will, it might tell us something.”
“Why don’t you write a novel and leave the sleuthing to me?”
said Gary.
“You need me for the complications, Gary. You are too far
into simple explanations of people’s complicated workings. Do you know where the
Fargo couple is now?”
“If they are not here, they are probably at home,” said
Gary.
“f this is their home, they should be here. Or did they give
you another address?”
“Now you mention it…”
***
Chris and his colleague emerged from behind the villa.
“No sign of anything, Gary,” Chris said. “I need to look
around inside the house. Hi Cleo! Nice to see you again.”
Cleo told Chris in brief what she and Gary had just been
discussing.
Chris had looked puzzled at the wild story that Cleo had put
together.
“What do you think?” said Gary. "It all sounds bonkers
to me."
“If we take it seriously, there are at least four
possibilities, in my view.”
“Go on. You sound like the Hartley Agency. I’m starting to
get goose-bumps.”
“The old guy is dead and buried illegally somewhere else, or
the guy is still alive and being kept imprisoned, or the guy has gone off for a
holiday somewhere, or he never existed, or he has moved out.”
“That’s five,” said Cleo. “Dr Fargo did exist. Scrutiny of
the whole Fargo clan might be on the menu right now.”
“Good luck then. We’re leaving,” said Chris. “I have to get
all those songster women’s blood samples analysed.”
With those words he and his colleague got back into the
forensics van and drove off leaving Gary deep in thought.
***
“How did you get here?” Cleo asked.
“I got a lift with Chris. Oh hell, they’ve left me behind!”
“I expect they think I’ll take you back to HQ,” said Cleo.
“Will you? I could always call a patrol car. The van is
parked on my space at HQ.”
“No problem,” said Cleo. “The father of my children is
always welcome to a lift.”
“You’re not angry with me, are you?” said Gary somewhat
timidly as they got into the red car.
“Should I be angry? Maybe for being sceptical about looking
around here? For not checking on the identities of the characters involved in
this farce? I’m just sorry that old Fargo isn’t pushing up the daisies here. It
would have saved us a lot of trouble,” said Cleo. “And did not go inside the
house, so his list of possibilities has not been put to the test.”
“Saved US trouble?”
“You and me, Gary! I can’t have Dorothy poking around here
and to be honest, this whole business could be dangerous if that false
identification had a specific purpose.”
“You’re right about Dorothy, though I love her when she is
not being a snoop. What do you suggest?”
“Chris is right. We know absolutely nothing,” said Cleo. “As
a first step, let’s find out if the old guy is still alive somewhere. Get Nigel
onto it! He gets around and might know someone who knows someone, especially in
connection with that villa.”
“You’re right. Sorry I if was a pain this morning.”
“You’re never really a pain, Gary, and I do have some good
news for you.”
“You do? I can’t think what.”
“Think again.”
“I’m just trying to get the Fargos straightened out.”
***
Cleo did not get out of the car at HQ. She gave Gary a large
piece of card with the words “Hi Toni – Welcome to Britain” written on it.
“Don’t forget to go to the station, Gary. Hold that up where
the passengers emerge from the train and you should have no problem meeting up
with the new au pair.”
“Are you sure that’s a man’s name?”
“Not if it’s short for Antonia,” said Cleo. “See you later.”
Gary turned to go up the steps to the HQ entrance. Cleo had
her car window wound down.
“Oh, Gary, in our anguish over the Fargos, I forgot!”
Several cars were now hooting for Cleo to drive off.
Gary turned and made a questioning gesture.
“We’re having another baby, Sweetheart,” said Cleo,
accelerating before Gary had time to take in the news.
“What did you say?” Gary called after the departing car.
“Brilliant!” said a young cop as he passed Gary on the steps.
“Your lady’s got another bun in the oven. Congratulations!”
***
“I’m having another baby, Nigel,” Gary announced, panting a
little after leaping two steps at a time up to his office on the second floor.
“Anatomically miraculous,” retorted Nigel, “but you’ll have
to lose weight if you want to lose that budding paunch before Cleo gets hers.”
“Cleo and I are really having another, Nigel. She said so.”
“Very nice, but haven’t you got enough already?”
“Cleo can’t get enough.”
”I’ll bet she can’t,” said Nigel, whose tone contained a
great deal of innuendo. “It’s great news if it puts you in such a good mood,
but Chris called to say that the blood samples all contain an amatoxin. He’s
alarmed. Don’t keep me in the dark, Gary. I’m your assistant. You must keep me
posted. I feel foolish if don’t know what you’re up to.”
“Sorry. I meant to get a forensic team to Dorothy Price’s
next door neighbour earlier. Can you get one to go there now? If Greg’s
available you could go with him. Dorothy has a key of the house. Mrs Barker has
not been seen since yesterday morning unless Dorothy has called to say she
has.”
“No one has called, unless you count Chris’s conundrum and Roger
asking what you want on your pizza. I told him the usual: artichokes, chorizo
and double cheese. He’ll be at Romano’s by now. I thought you’d go there first.”
“I’ll go there now.”
“Explain about Dorothy’s neighbour first,” said Nigel. “What’s
that about?”
“She made the poisoned soup. I’d better talk to Greg before I
leave.”
***
A short phone call and five minutes later Greg was happy to
be called away from his report writing and raring to go anywhere that was not
connected with the seemingly unsolvable drugs case he was tussling with thanks
to a number of incoherent witnesses making statements that hid more than they
revealed. Gary explained his case as succinctly as possible.
“But soup?” Greg commented. “That is rather an unusual murder
weapon.”
“Not more unusual than a frozen leg of lamb, Greg.”
“How does that work.”
“You kill your victim, defreeze the joint and cook it in a
slow oven. Haven’t you read any Roald Dahl stories?” said Gary.
“I can’t say I have,” said Greg.
“You should. In this
case it was probably an unfortunate misappropriation of toadstools, Greg. I’m
worried that Mrs Barker may have eaten some of that soup and be in a coma or
worse. She probably doesn’t know about the plight of those chorus ladies.”
“I’d better get moving then,” said Greg. “Did you say Nigel
was going with me?”
“That would be good. I have to pick up the new au pair at
the station at about five otherwise I’d go myself.”
***
Gary sprinted to Romano’s to join Roger. His pizza was ready
to bake, Roger told him.
“So that’s why you asked Nigel what I wanted on it.”
“Do you really suspect Dorothy’s neighbour,” Roger said.
“No. I think poison was added to that soup while they were
rehearsing.”
“If they were all singing, it can’t have been one of them,”
said Roger.
“Maybe one slipped out to go to the loo,” said Gary. “The
others wouldn’t have noticed, let alone be suspicious.”
***
A phone-call from Greg interrupted the discussion
“Mrs Barker’s been unwell since some time yesterday, she
says, but she’s recovering and the local doctor thinks she’ll be OK.”
“I damn well hope she will. I’d like to ask her some
questions.”
***
“So that speculation wasn’t in vain,” said Gary as he told
Roger what Greg had reported.
“We’ll have to wait for all the contents of that soup to be analysed,”
said Roger. “Poor Chris will have his work cut out. There may have been
something in one of the liquids being offered alongside the soup.”
“I expect the empty bottles have already gone to the bottle
bank, but Mrs Barker only had the rest of the soup at home.”
“Who told you about it?”
“Chris. When the hospital realized that it wasn’t a tropical
disease, they asked the women who were conscious what they had eaten,” said
Gary. “Chris was thrilled. He likes his job to be as convoluted as possible. ”
“But you’re not exactly having fun, are you?”
“Sometimes I wish I could just concentrate on being a
father.”
“Understandable in the circumstances, but you’ll get over
the novelty.”
“It isn’t a novelty, Roger. I’m passionately fond of them
all. I’m a different me from the old one. I could never have said such a thing
then.”
“But it’s the new Gary we need in the force,” said Roger.
“There’s too little compassion in policing.”
“It drove me to burnout once,” said Gary.
“That was during those terrible days when Cleo was
two-timing you. Don’t even think of taking time off for more burnout, Gary. We
need you here.”
Since they had got onto one of Roger’s hobbyhorses, Gary
decided to cut short the drift of the conversation. They talked shop for a
while. Roger said he would get nine holes played on the golf course since Grit
was looking after the children, and Gary made his way to Middlethumpton
station. He was too early, but since he had forgotten the cardboard notice Cleo
had made for him to hold up, he had to dash back to the car and get it.
After he had jogged from the station to the HQ carpark and driven
back in his car, found a parking space
and was standing on the platform, he still
had time to think about his job. Roger had again stirred inside him the doubts
he felt about being a policeman when he thought he had overcome that feeling.
His reaction to Cleo that morning was also troubling him. He was not in the
mood for meeting au pairs off trains.
***
“At four, Roger phoned Grit from the golf club. Cleo was at
home. Grit could pop into Middlethumpton and there would still be time to boy
that ring.”
“We’ll be here as soon as we can, Cleo,” said Grit. “You
don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Don’t keep Roger waiting,” said Cleo.
“No. You kept Gary waiting long enough,” said Grit. “I’ve
learnt my lesson. There is no waiting time in life.”
The women embraced and Grit revved up her mini and charged
into town.
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