Past Praying For by Aline Templeton

Author:Aline Templeton [Templeton, Aline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2014-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

9

Rod Vezey put his head in his hands and groaned.

‘A nutter,’ he said. ‘Oh dear God! Are you really telling me that we are going to have to question women – middle-class, I-know-my-rights-and-may-I-just-have-your-number-before-we-start-officer women – when the one we want won’t even know when she’s lying?’

He was seated at a desk in the shabby office of the sergeant whose patch included Stretton Noble, in the nearby small town of Burdley. Flimsy, garish paper-chains were looped incongruously from the corners of the room to the white plastic central lampshade, and below an improbable tinsel tassel dangled to swing in the dusty current of air from the radiator. It was half past nine, but as yet full daylight had not penetrated the dirty ribbed glass in the window.

Opposite him, Robert Moon looked like a man whose self-image has been severely compromized. Wearing a hand-knitted fisherman’s sweater and baggy cord trousers borrowed from Ted Brancombe, he appeared dishevelled and unkempt; he had not shaved, and without his usual expression of cheerful composure he looked much older, the lines of age and exhaustion clearly marked. He seemed unable to sit still; he changed his position in the chair, fiddled with paperclips, got up to untangle a twisted sash cord at one of the windows. He was clearly exercising tight control, but every so often his fingers beat a betraying tattoo of frustration.

With an obvious effort, he forced himself to give Vezey’s question his usual measured response.

‘Yes, I think that is entirely possible. Well, yes and no, perhaps. From what Margaret told me before – ’ He broke off, then continued, ‘the woman knows that something is going on – something alarming and evil which she is powerless to prevent – though she can only guess at what it is, and certainly will have no precise knowledge of how it happened. She’s obviously going to be in a very overwrought state.’

‘Unlike every other woman in the place, you mean?’ Vezey groaned again. ‘Have you any idea how many of them there are in Stretton Noble who meet your specifications?’

‘A fair few, I daresay.’

He spoke tersely, with the air of one deliberately distancing himself from a problem which is not his concern. Standing by the window, his fingers again drummed out his irritation on the sill.

Vezey got to his feet. ‘I’d better get on. I’ve got a briefing to give in ten minutes, and they won’t be happy when they hear it’s a kid-gloves job.’

‘You mean, they prefer it when they can beat them up round the back of the station, no questions asked?’

It was such an entirely uncharacteristic remark that Vezey turned round to stare at him. The tension in the atmosphere had become so marked that even a lifetime’s dedication to dismissing the inconvenient emotions of others did not equip him to ignore it.

He said, awkwardly and against his better judgment, ‘How is she – your sister?’

Robert swung round, his eyes glittering.

‘I thought you’d never ask. Oh, she’s fine, given that someone tried to kill her and very nearly succeeded.

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