A Spoonful of Luger (23 page)

“Do
I
have
to
have
a
reason?”

But
Bycroft’s
attitude
was
still
weighing
heavily
on
me.
I
hadn’t
the
energy
to
dissimulate.
“I’d
have thought
so.
Something
good,
to
want
to
see
me.”

“Now
why
should
you
say
that?”

“For
heaven’s
sake,
Anne,
use
your
common
sense.”

“If
you’re
trying
to
insult
me ... ”

“No.
No,
I’m
sorry.”

And
now
all
I
wanted
was
to
get
away,
but
what
was
there
for
Randall
if
I
chased
after
Bycroft?
He
wanted
Dulcie.
I
wasn’t
finding
her.
I
was
just
getting
myself
diverted,
and
in
all
directions.

“I
can
see
I
caught
you
at
the
wrong
moment,”
she
said
quietly.
“I’ll
go.”

“Things
are
going
wrong,
Anne,
that’s
all.
Not
your
fault.”

“Perhaps
it
is.
You
came
back,
and
I
had
the
wild
idea
that
maybe
I
could
be
part
of
the
reason ... ”

“I
didn’t
want
to
come
back,
and
that’s
the
truth.
I
hate
this
town,
and
all
it
means.”

“That’s
obvious.”
She
paused,
and
I
glanced
at
her.
She
was
watching
me
with
a
frown.
“You
were
in
such a
hurry
to
get
away
last
time.”

“Do
you
think
I
could
have
stayed?”
I
burst
out.
“Do
you
really
imagine
I
could
have
borne
to
be
around
when
you
opened
your
eyes
—
and
looked
at
me?”

“It
was
stupid
of
me
to
wait
for
you
here,”
she
decided.

I
knew,
miserably,
what
she
meant.
You
intrude
into
another
facet
of
a
person’s
life,
and
discover
yourself
to
be
of
little
importance,
shut
out.
She
tossed
her
head,
and
confirmed
my
interpretation.

“Whatever’s
been
going
on
inside
there?”
she
asked.

But
I
wasn’t
going
to
admit
the
assault
on
my
ego.
“It
was
my
fault,
in
the
first
place,
driving
up
there
to
look
at
the
bungalow.”

“George,”
she
said
quietly,
“you
mustn’t
blame
yourself
that
you
weren’t
there
when
I
did
open
my
eyes.
If
you
want
to
know,
I
was
glad
you
weren’t.
Do
you
understand,
George,
glad!”

And
because
I
did
not,
because I
was
confused
and
needed
time,
I
burst
out:

“You
can
help
me,
Anne.”
I
looked
away.
“If
you
will.”

“I
said
I
would.
You
mean
now?”

“Not
now.
There’s
somewhere
I’ve
got
to
go,
right
now.
But
tomorrow — perhaps? There’s
just
a
thought
I’ve
had.
In
the
morning?”

She
put
her
hand
on
my
arm.
“You
pick
me
up.
Any
time.”

Then
she
got
out
of
the
car.
She
paused
with
the
door
open,
and
looked
back.

“But
you
did
wait
until
you
were
sure
my
eyes
would
open.”

She
walked
away.

A
small
portion
of
it
all
had
been
laid
out
between
us
and
inspected,
and
it
hadn’t
been
as
bad
as
I’d
feared.
Something
had
pleased
her.
But
why
had
she
been
glad
I
hadn’t
waited
at
the
bedside?

I
knew
what
I’d
got
to
do,
and
now
I
could
face
it.
Bycroft
wouldn’t
be
pleased
to
see
me.
I
grinned
and accelerated
out
of
the
yard.

There
had
been
enough
information
flung
around
for
me
to
be
sure
of
the
locations.
With
a
map
on
the
seat
I
drove
as
fast
as
possible,
though
the
sleet
was
beginning
to
settle,
and
I
could
feel
the
tyres
trying
to
break
away
on
corners.

But
this
cold
spell
was
recent.
A
week
ago
there’d
been
no
ice
on
the
roads
to
account
for
the
Rover
3500’s
crash.
I
found
it,
marked
by
a
row
of
warning
cones
along
the
gap
in
the
fence.
The
bank
fell
away,
and
down
below
I
could
just
see
the
wreck,
though
the
light
was
going.
There
wasn’t
any
point
in
climbing
down,
with
all
the
lumbersome
effort
of
struggling
up
again.
Any
evidence
would
have
been
taken
away,
and
its
original
colour
was
irrelevant,
even
if
there’d
been
any
paint
left.
It
would
have
finished
up
as
primrose,
anyway.

I
drove
on.
The
crash
was
in
the
county
area,
so
they’d
have
taken
the
body
to
the
county
morgue.
I
knew where
that
was,
and
no
longer
hurried.
There’d
be
formalities
to
delay
Bycroft,
and,
judging
by
the
cars
when
I
got
there,
quite
a
few
introductions
to
be
got
through.
Three
police
cars
were
parked
in
the
yard
and
uniformed
men
seemed
to
be
lounging
everywhere,
flapping
their
hands
and
breathing
mistily.
I
nodded
to
right
and
left.
“Evening.”
Nobody
questioned
me,
so
that
I
got
into
the
scene
just
as
things
were
warming
up.