Joint Enterprise (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 3) (23 page)

‘Any indication they might try and interfere with it again?’

‘I didn’t get that impression. It seemed like a one-off stunt. And I think that the consequences of their actions might make them think twice before getting involved again.’

Romney sat back in his chair and prepared to be smug about newly acquired knowledge
which he imagined none of the other three in the room had the first idea about. ‘According to Ms Barnes there are a lot of sick people out there with a lot of sick ideas about sex. Do any of you know what coprophilia is?’

Spicer looked blank. Grimes said, ‘Something to do with the police?’

‘It’s a sexual attraction to other people’s excrement,’ said Marsh.

Romney looked impressed. Grimes looked appalled. Spicer continued looking blank.

‘How about teratophilia?’ said Romney.

While Grimes was trying to repeat the word
, Marsh said, ‘Being turned on by people with physical deformities.’

‘People get turned on by cripples?’ said Grimes.

‘Apparently,’ said Romney.

‘It’s actually more to do with defects an individual would have suffered from birth that would in adult life lead to notable physical differences,’ said Marsh.

‘Acrotomophilia? Do you know that one?’ Romney said to Marsh.

‘Acrotomophilia refers to a sexual fascination for people with missing limbs.’ Grimes made a noise that suggested his recently consumed biscuits might
suddenly reappear. ‘What about emetophilia?’ said Marsh to Romney. He shook his head. ‘It’s erotic vomiting. Some people, apparently, can only reach an orgasm through the act of puking. And then there are Roman-showers, which is where people get a sexual thrill out of being vomited upon.’

‘You are joking?’ said Grimes. ‘Golden showers I can understand
, but someone getting off on being thrown up over?’

‘I’m not. If you don’t believe me, look it up.’

‘How do people get around to discussing something like that?’ he persisted. ‘Imagine sitting there watching a film with the new lady in your life and you’re just massaging her feet or something and she looks up at you and says, you know what I’d really like you to do? and you say, no what? thinking she’s going to get a bit smutty; what I’d really like you to do is to puke your dinner up on my head. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘I’m more interested to hear about your empathy for golden shower fetishists,’ said Marsh
, hiding a smirk.

‘I didn’t mean that, exactly. It’s not something that the wife and I would ever get involved in.’

‘Do you mind?’ said Romney. ‘It’s bad enough having to put up with regular updates on your digestive problems. I have no interest at all in hearing about your sex life.’

‘I knew a bloke who was into gay-necrophilia,’ said Spicer, which got everyone’s attention. ‘At least he was until some arsehole split on him.’ Grimes laughed, Romney sighed and Marsh let her face show her disappointment.

‘How do you know all that stuff, Sarge?’ said Grimes, with a hint of mischievousness.

‘I did a sex offenders course,’ she said, seeing through him immediately and letting him know it with a look.

Since they were being informal, Romney broached a subject that he’d wondered about without satisfaction ever since he’d been up on the battlements with Marsh. ‘Why do you do it?’ he said to Grimes.

‘Do what, gov?’

‘The film-extra work, for free. Why would you play soldiers all day in that heat in that get-up for someone else’s profit?’

It was a change of tack in the discussion that made them all look at Grimes and forget what they’d been talking about. For once he didn’t disappoint them. ‘We’re all going to die, gov. Most of us will leave no mark of our existence behind what-so-ever. Not a stain or a smudge or a smear on the face of history. I think that’s sad. If I can be part of something that survives long after I’m dead then I’ll have achieved a form of immortality. I’d like that.’

Everyone was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment of self-reflection before Romney tapped the table twice, stood quickly, winced and said, ‘On that depressing note of reality, that’s it then for today. I’m off to bring our leader up to speed on our lack of progress.’

Grimes pinched another couple of biscuits and followed Spicer out.

Romney indicated to Marsh that she should stay. ‘Something the Barnes woman hinted at that I want you to bear in mind. She didn’t actually say as much, but I got the distinct impression the film archivist, Ramsden I think his name was, the guy who claimed to have been knocked out in the original theft, might have been in on it.’ Marsh frowned. ‘She didn’t explicitly implicate him. It was just a feeling I got. It might explain how they got in, out and away with the film so easily.’

‘You want me to speak to him when I’m up there?’

‘I’ll leave that up to you. If you think it might prove useful. But now that the Animal Rights Enforcers don’t have the film we have nothing to charge them with, especially as we can’t prove they were there. We won’t get anywhere with it and we’ve got more important things to be getting on with.’

‘So they get away with it?’ said Marsh.

‘I wouldn’t say that they’ve got away with anything. Nor would you if you saw what they’d done to her and her home. But Jane Barnes is not making a complaint. She is not pressing any charges, so there is nothing for the police to respond to or investigate there.’

‘But they stole the film,’ said Marsh.

‘How are we going to prove that now?’

‘Hugo Crawford won’t be very happy, sir.’

‘Who’s going to tell him? You?’ Marsh said nothing. ‘Me neither. Let’s see what happens. See what whoever now has it intends to do with it.’

Marsh had to accept this, even if she did suspect that the DI’s motives had more to do with his dislike of Hugo Crawford than his concern for their workload.

Romney looked up to see Capitaine Poisson with his little suitcase in CID shaking hands with Grimes. Romney and Marsh went out to see him.

‘You’re leaving us so soon, Frederic?’ said Romney.

‘It seems the case is solved, Tom, and so there is no need for me to prolong my visit. A quick and satisfactory conclusion. My senior officer will be very pleased.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t spare anyone today. Did you get to the castle?’

‘I did. And a most wonderful experience it was for me too. Such history. And don’t worry, please, I understand how things are. A patrol car very kindly delivered me to the gates. You are finished for the day?’

‘Almost.’

‘I wonder,’ he said, looking around the small gathering, ‘if any of you have nothing better to do, whether you might allow me to return something of last night’s hospitality and buy you all a drink. I’m leaving tonight, but have a few hours before my boat leaves and would dearly love the chance to enjoy a little more English ale.’

‘I could manage a quick one,’ said Grimes, brightening at the promise of another free drink. ‘You can tell me what you thought of the keep.’

‘Sorry, I’ll have to pass, but thanks,’ said Marsh. ‘Did you remember to let Captain Poisson have one of those books, sir?’ she said, smiling innocently.

‘If you have a spare copy, Tom, it would give me something to read on the journey home.’

Marsh shook the French policeman’s hand and left them to it without looking back to see what look Romney had for her.

‘I’ve got to speak to Superintendent Falkner and then I can drop in for one,’ said Romney. ‘If you wait there a moment, the book’s in my office.’ Marsh, he decided without great malice, would regret her little joke. And then he comforted himself with the thought that perhaps he could pay Vitriol’s mother another visit on his own and wangle a replacement out of her.

*

Grimes drove Poisson the short distance back to the hostelry they had enjoyed the previous evening. Poisson had not realised it was Grimes Romney had had in mind to chaperone him around the castle and was pleased to have his company now to discuss his outing.

Grimes was indeed a great enthusiast for all things historical and they were able to discuss in some detail elements of the castle’s design and its particular history.

It was an additional source of surprise to Poisson to learn that Grimes had actually been on the battlefield when Paul Henry had been killed. He was fascinated by Grimes’ recount of that and other re-enactments the policeman had participated in. Grimes for his part was in something of his element. So much so that he even bought the Frenchman a pint.

‘I had another reason for going to the castle today, Peter,’ said Poisson, as the effects of the strong beer loosened his tongue and his inhibitions. ‘A most strange thing I was asked to do by Paul Henry’s widow.’ Grimes’ interest was tweaked. ‘You probably wouldn’t know about Paul Henry’s past I suppose?’

‘I don’t know anything about the poor man at all,’ confessed Grimes.

‘No matter.’ He took a sip of his beer. ‘Paul Henry was a seaman on the Herald of Joint Enterprise the night it sank off Zebrugge. You remember that?’

‘Of course. Two hundred odd died didn’t they?’

‘Actually, the number was one hundred and ninety-three. I should know. This afternoon I stood on the spot where Paul Henry died and recited all their names into the ether.’

‘What? Why on earth would you do that?’ Poisson explained the dying man’s wish that the widow had begged of him, as Grimes listened with rising incredulity. When Poisson had finished he said, ‘There’s now’t so queer as folk, my Nan used to say. That’s incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.’

‘It was certainly a strange request,’ said Poisson, and then he leaned forward suddenly to stare intently into Grimes’ eyes, needing to share his experience with someone, ‘but, do you want to know the strangest thing about it?’

‘Go on.’

‘The emotion that it stirred in me,’ said Poisson, touching his chest where his heart was, with his balled fist. ‘It is a little embarrassing, but I can tell you that I cried like a baby and when it was done, when I had finished, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and tranquillity. It was almost as though I had been touched by something unknowable.’ He sat back, himself again and looked a little sheepish. ‘I cannot explain it, but it was at once one of the most moving and disturbing experiences I have ever had.’

‘You’re not saying...
’ began Grimes.

‘Please, my friend,’ Poisson stopped him with a raised hand. ‘I know what you are about to say, I think, and certainly I do not believe in such things, but still. It was very strange.’

The bar door opened spilling the watery evening light across the exposed planks of the flooring and Romney was framed in the doorway. He raised his hand and went to the bar to order a round. Poisson leaned forward towards Grimes and whispered, ‘I would like this to stay between us. I feel we have a level of understanding through our shared love of history that perhaps your Inspector would not share?’ Grimes nodded his agreement. ‘And as I said, it is all more than a little embarrassing.’

Grimes tapped the side of his nose, ‘Your secret is safe with me, Frederic.’

Romney arrived and set three full pint glasses down on the table.

‘How did it go with the s
uper, gov?’ said Grimes.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Romney and drank off half of his drink without pausing for breath.

***

14

Despite the Frenchman’s protestations, Romney drove Poisson to the docks to save him the price and inconvenience of a taxi. It was also, he said, the least he could do seeing as he had not been able to organise an escort for him earlier in the day. Poisson’s parting wish, buoyed as it was by
a couple of pints of strong Kentish ale, was that he hoped it would not be long before another of his countrymen died a suspicious death within the confines of Dover police authority, so that he might return to enjoy such hospitality and fine beer.

Alone, again, and with just enough Dutch courage coursing through his own system to make him a legal driver, but a reckless romantic, Romney decided to treat himself to dinner at
The Olive Tree
, a relatively new Greek taverna-style eatery that had opened in the town. He’d patronised it twice already – both times on his own – and it had been open less than a month. The first was because he was hungry and passing and interested in the food. The second because on his first visit he’d been waited on by a very attractive woman probably in her mid-thirties. Her accent and Mediterranean skin led Romney to believe she was possibly of Greek extraction herself and had come with the furniture. Romney had remembered her easy warm smile, large brown eyes, the fluid way that she moved between the tables and customers and her naked ring finger. The food had been excellent too.

She had appeared to both recognise him and be pleased to see him again on his second visit, which of course could have meant many things, none of which necessarily had to involve a personal interest in him. Even though Romney had suffered knock-backs and bitter disappointment
s at the hands of the opposite sex, like most men it didn’t stop him hauling himself up out of the abyss and coming back for more. A glutton for their punishment? Apparently. An eternal optimist? Hardly. A victim of his biological make-up? Probably. A fool to himself? Certainly. But often it could fleetingly all be worth it.