Dead Ground in Between (7 page)

Her eyes met his. She had pretty blue eyes and long eyelashes, he noticed. “Who was it, if I may be so bold as to ask, who left the marriage?”

Tyler hesitated. “I'd say it was a mutual decision.”

When Moira spoke next her voice was soft. “I'm sorry for my next question, Mr. Tyler, but I am obliged to ask it. Are you still in love with your ex-wife?”

“Good lord, no.” Seduced by her expression of kind understanding, he added impulsively, “I probably never was.”

She wrote something in the ledger. “Any children?”

“We had a boy and a girl. Only my daughter is living. My son was killed two years ago.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that. A casualty of war?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

She looked at him, obviously waiting for him to expand on his statement, but Jimmy's violent and untimely death was not something he wanted to talk about.

She returned to her ledger. “Now, just a few questions about yourself, Mr. Tyler. How would you describe your personality?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Well, would you say you are generally a cheerful, optimistic sort of person? Or do you have trouble feeling hopeful about the future?”

“These days, only fools would be always cheerful, wouldn't you say, Mrs. Hamilton?”

She gave a little shrug. “You have a point. But we can't succumb to despair, either, can we? I'm sure Herr Hitler would like that. It is not an emotion that I myself subscribe to.”

But you have a loving husband who can't wait to get home so he can take you in his arms and caress those full breasts and thighs
.

“Mr. Tyler?”

“Sorry, just thinking. Ask away.”

She did, and soon filled the page. Some questions were easy to answer. What kind of music did he like? Vera Lynn got to him every time. He enjoyed Gracie Fields. Glenn Miller was a toe-tapper. Who was his favourite comedian? Tony Hancock. What writers did he like? Lots of them. Shakespeare, for one. A lift of the eyebrow at that but it was true. Graham Greene. George Orwell.

A more thought-provoking question came next. What sort of woman did he enjoy being with? “Depends.” A little more probing and he offered the answer, “Clever women, I suppose. Honest. Straightforward.” She seemed to like those answers and underlined them in the ledger.

“My final question, Mr. Tyler, and a rather important one. Do you enjoy intimacy? Of the physical kind, that is.”

He wanted to cry out, “You bet I do! I haven't had sexual relations for two years.” However, he settled for a more decorous, “Definitely.”

“Splendid. That's all for now.” She took another piece of paper from the folder. “Here is my standard contract. It guarantees you three introductions. There will be no refunds. If there are unexpected circumstances that mean the introduction is not completed I will replace that introduction with another at my discretion. Clear?”

“What might be a circumstance of incompletion?”

She pouted her lips in a rather mischievous way. “One of my clients considered herself to be a widow and was ready to meet another man…when her husband returned.”

“Not dead, then?”

“Not at all. Reported to be missing in action in North Africa but he was only wounded.”

“You removed her from your list?”

“Good heavens, yes. It was a most joyful reunion, I must say.”

Mrs. Hamilton seemed to admire reunions, thought Tyler.

“Just sign on the bottom line, if you please.” She stood up and went back to the desk. Tyler kept his eyes firmly fixed on the piece of paper that might or might not be determining his future. She returned with a folder. “I currently have three women on my list who, in my opinion, are most suitable candidates. I will make the initial contact, give you a little introduction, as it were.
Then I will send you a letter with the place and time of the first meeting. I always recommend you make an appointment to meet first of all in a public place. At the pictures, or a restaurant, for instance. A dance can be too intimidating initially. Many men do not consider themselves to be Fred Astaires on the dance floor and things can get off to an unnecessarily awkward start.”

“That's me for sure,” said Tyler.

“It might be worth taking some proper lessons.”

“Maybe.”

“Pictures or restaurant, then?”

“I think it'll be the pictures.”

“Good choice. There's an American comedy playing at the Clifton. It's quite amusing. I would like you to come in again after each meeting and let me know your impressions and so forth. The women will do the same.”

Wow, this is indeed a business
, thought Tyler.
I didn't expect to be marked
.

“What happens if I am completely satisfied with the first woman I meet? Do I have to make a date with the other two?”

She nodded. “I always advise it. Hedge your bets. But do be honest with them. You don't want to deceive anybody, do you? No broken hearts, thank you. We've got more than enough of those to go around these days.”

She picked up the teapot. “More tea?”

He flapped his hand. “No, thanks. That was more than sufficient.”

“I'll get your hat and coat, then.” She paused. “The reason I asked you about your wife, Mr. Tyler, whether or not you were still in love with her…I had the impression that your feelings had been badly hurt, and that it might be difficult for you to give your heart to somebody else.”

For a moment, Tyler could only gape at her. Then, “Don't worry about me, Mrs. Hamilton,” he said. “I'll be all right.”

Playtime was over and Miss Lindsay was ringing the handbell with great gusto, the signal for the children to line up ready to return to their classrooms.

Jan grabbed his brother's arm. “Soon as school's over, we'll ride the bike to the hideout.”

“Why?”

“We've got to put our treasure in a safe place, for one thing. We don't want anybody taking it from us. We've got to check on our supplies as well. Soon as the weather lets up we'll be able to go to London.”

“Jan, I don't w-want to get into any more t-trouble.”

“We won't, I promise. I'll ask Wally Green to tell Mrs. K. we've had to stay behind at school.”

“What if she checks up on us?”

“She won't. She told me, 'cause of going to court this morning she has to stay late at the library. She won't be home until seven. We'll be back by then. If she does find out, we'll say we were all cut up about the manager accusing us and we needed to be alone. She's a softie. She won't rag us.”

Pim chewed on his lip. “I dunno, Jan. Besides, it's p-pissing down with rain. We'll g-get soaked.”

“We ain't made of sugar. And we've got those macks Mrs. K. bought for us.”

“What if we get hungry?”

Jan reached into his pocket and took out two small bars of chocolate. “We've got these. We can have one today and keep the other for later.”

Pim covered his brother's hand with his own. “Don't let anybody see them. We'll really g-get sent away then.”

Miss Lindsay gave the bell another a vigorous shake.

“Playtime's over now, boys. Let's start lining up. No tarrying. No more talking.”

“Stay here,” said Jan, and he scurried over to the line that was slowly forming and pushed in behind a small boy with pinched features. Wally Green was an early evacuee from Liverpool. So far, no amount of country air and better food had fattened him up.

Jan tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Wally, do me a favour, will you?”

“Depends what it is.”

“I want you to take a message to Mrs. Keogh.”

“What sort of message?”

“Tell her Pim and me have had to stay at school for a bit. Say we got detention.”

“Is it true?”

“Course it isn't. We just don't want to go home right away.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn't matter why not. Will you do it? It's on your way. She'll be at the library.”

“I don't like fibbing for other people. What if she don't believe me? Then I'll be the one in trouble.”

“No you won't. I'll never tell. Come on, Wally. That's not a lot to ask of a mate. I'll give you me new comic. It's a
Beano
.”

“I've got a
Beano
.”

“A
Beano
and me best marlie.”

“I don't –”

“And I won't tell the teacher you took a leak against the school gate yesterday.”

“I did not,” said Wally, full of indignation.

“I saw you. Both me brother and I did.”

The other boy hesitated. “I was caught short.”

“I believe you, but the dragon won't. Is it a deal or not?”

The harsh bell clanged again.

“Those who aren't in line by the time I count to ten will get a detention,” called out Miss Lindsay. She'd been evacuated from London with her class and she'd brought her city ways with her. Detentions, previously unheard of, were one such innovation.

The local children both feared and hated her and did what they could to defy her whenever possible. Delaying tactics at the end of playtime was one small way they could get back at her.

“All right,” muttered Wally. “A
Beano
and your best marble? No welching, and no blaming me if she finds out the truth.”

“Spit on my hand, cross my heart, and hope to die.”

“I thought you was a Jew. Jews don't cross their hearts.”

“Course we do. It's all the same.”

He suited his actions to his words and pressed his palm against Wally's. Then he hurried back to where his brother was waiting.

“He'll do it.”

Pim looked worried, but he followed his brother to the line that was now moving slowly in the direction of the doors.

Sergeant Rowell was seated behind the reception desk when Tyler entered the police station.

“How'd it go?”

“Fine. Good. She's a shrewd woman. Very pleasant too.”

Rowell beamed. “I told you so.”

“You didn't tell me she was also a nice bit of crumpet.”

The sergeant threw up his hands. “I wanted you to go to the meeting with no preconceptions.”

“Nor did you mention I had to pay.”

“It's worth every penny. You'll see. You're going to follow up on it, I hope.”

“For three pounds, you bet I am.”

Behind a low glass partition was the common area, and Tyler glanced toward the young constable sitting at his desk. Even from a distance Tyler could see Constable Mady's eyes were alive with curiosity. He leaned closer to Rowell.

“Oliver, if you so much as breathe a word to anybody about this I'll skin you alive.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, sir. It's your own private business.” He grimaced. “I did mention to Dorothy that I'd recommended Mrs. Hamilton to you, but that's all.”

Tyler sighed. It would be all over town before he knew it. He might as well have put an announcement on the
BBC
:
Lonely, sexually starved copper, divorced, seeks understanding woman. No strings attached
.

“Remember, Oliver – loose lips sink sergeants.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Now, let's get back to being coppers, shall we? Did those remand lads come in yet?”

“Not yet. But while you were away, I took the opportunity to send young Mady to have a chat with the publican.”

“And?”

“He says the boys had a couple of pints of cider. All legal and above board. He was too busy to notice their level of inebriation.”

“Just a couple?”

“Apparently.”

“Perhaps the stuff is as strong as they claim.”

Rowell pointed to the waiting area. “There's a lady come in who wants to speak to you urgently.”

If he hadn't said it was a woman, Tyler wouldn't have known. She was standing with her back to him, looking out the window, wearing a nautical sou'wester and a shapeless heavy black waterproof.

“Her father-in-law's gone missing,” continued Rowell. “Old chap. He hasn't been seen since last night. She's worried something might have happened to him. Especially in this weather.”

“What's the name?”

“Cartwright. She's Susan. Father-in-law is Jasper.”

At that moment, the front door crashed open and Sam Wickers and Timothy Oldham came in. Blew in was more like it. A gust of wind snatched at the door and took the cap off the younger one's head. He chased it down quickly.

“Come in, why don't you, lads,” said Rowell. “Make yourselves at home.”

Mrs. Cartwright turned round at the ruckus and Tyler saw that she was younger than he had first thought. Despite her rough-and-ready apparel, her features were rather delicate.

“I'll be right with you, madam,” he called over to her. He nodded at his sergeant. “Take her into my office. I'll just get this lot sorted.”

Rowell came around the desk and ushered the woman into Tyler's office. In the meantime, the two young men were shaking out their wet caps and generally making loud
brrr
noises.

“All right, you two,” said Tyler, “I get the picture. It's cold and wet out. Don't worry, I'll give you something to get your blood flowing. You'll be warm in no time.” He pointed to the hooks on the wall. “You can hang your things there.”

He turned to the constable, who had been watching the proceedings with great interest. “Mady. Come here, will you? Constable, this here is Sam Wickers and his chum Tim Oldham. One of our fellow officers, Constable Biggs, had the misfortune to be doing his duty when these two decided to not only disobey him but to disobey with foul and abusive language. Now, as upholders of the law, we take a very dim view of that sort of behaviour, don't we, Constable?”