The Price of Failure (8 page)

The telephone rang. ‘Is that Mr Carr?' a woman asked. The voice was vaguely familiar, but he could not immediately place why. ‘Speaking.'

‘It's Genevieve Varney.'

Into his mind came an image which he immediately blurred. ‘Hullo, there. How can I help?'

‘You know you told me you were fairly certain you'd identified the man who's been making those telephone calls?'

‘That's right.'

‘What's the position exactly?'

‘As far as he's concerned? I had to rush off on another job, so one of my mates questioned him. He's denying everything and so far there's not the hard evidence to bring him in. But he now knows that we know he's the guilty man, so even if we can't take him to court right away, you won't be troubled again.'

‘That's just the point. I've had another call.'

His voice expressed his surprise. ‘Another obscene call?'

‘Yes.'

Against all the odds, had he made a misidentification? Despite all the circumstantial evidence, was Wolf innocent? ‘Was it the same man made the call?'

‘I thought it was at first. But there was something different about the voice and afterwards I thought maybe it wasn't. And I put the receiver down too quickly to be certain … I'm scared.'

‘I assure you, there's no need to be.'

‘I … I don't know how far to believe that. I mean, of course I'm not trying to say you're a liar, but you told me only a moment ago I wouldn't be bothered again and I have been. He started saying how much more satisfying rape was than straight sex … That's when I put the receiver down. I'm such a coward when I think of rape.'

‘That's very natural.'

‘But suppose he breaks into my flat?'

‘Do you have an alarm system?'

‘Yes.'

‘And all doors and windows have a good locking system?'

‘I think so, but I don't really know anything about such things.'

‘I'll get the home security officer to call round and check everything out for you.'

‘When?'

‘I'm not certain if he's on duty today. But he'll be with you tomorrow morning.'

‘Can't you come along and advise me right away?'

Gloria had taught him that a person's reactions to events were always subjective, not objective. The odds against anyone breaking into Genevieve's flat to rape her, following the telephone call, might logically be a thousand to one, but for her they were evens or perhaps odds on. ‘Tell you what. I'll nip in as soon as I can and give everything the once-over so that you'll feel safe tonight.'

‘I'm most terribly grateful.'

After he'd rung off, he went along to Wyatt's room. ‘Sarge, I've just had Miss Varney on the blower. She's very worried.'

‘What is it this time – a curious window cleaner?'

‘She's had another dirty telephone call.'

Wyatt leaned back in his chair, belched quietly. ‘Didn't you tell me the case was as good as wrapped up even if we couldn't charge Wolf because Steve had made him so shit-scared he wouldn't dare even to talk about buttered crumpets over the phone?'

‘That's right.'

‘Now you're telling me that that's wrong.'

‘Maybe, maybe not. She's not certain it's the same man.'

‘The men are queuing up for full-frontal chats?'

‘It sounds unlikely, but the real point is, she's scared that whoever he is, he'll break into her flat and rape her. I tried to say how unlikely that was, but she wasn't having it. So I said I'd get George to check the security out tomorrow. She didn't like the idea of waiting and so I promised to give the place the once-over myself. It'll add to the PR image and maybe I'll be able to find out if it was just Wolf trying to disguise his voice. The problem is, that'll leave CID bare.'

Wyatt rubbed his chin. ‘I'll be around for a good while yet.'

‘Then I'll nip across to see her and sniff out what I can.'

‘Just watch where you put your nose when you're sniffing.'

*   *   *

Genevieve opened the door of the flat. ‘It's so kind of you to come here.'

He stepped inside. ‘It's the least I can do.' Her blouse enjoyed considerable décolletage and her skirt was short and full. He found himself wondering how much he'd see if he bent down to pick up something from the floor.

She led the way into the sitting room. ‘I hope you don't mind?'

‘What exactly won't I mind?'

‘When I'm worried, I drink champagne because the bubbles help to make things right. But I don't like drinking on my own, so I put a bottle in the fridge for when you called. You will have a drink with me, won't you?'

He smiled. ‘Provided I don't return to the station singing, “The policeman's lot is a happy one,” it should be safe.'

‘That's great.'

He watched her leave. She made him think of open moors on sunny days; but open moors with private little hollows observed only by the birds and the bees.

She returned with a salver on which were an ice bucket with a bottle in it and two flutes. She set the salver down on an occasional table.

He and Gloria had cracked a bottle of champagne on her birthday, a week before she had said that she thought she was pregnant once more. If they could have foretold the future, they'd not have drunk so cheerfully …

‘You're looking sad.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Something's wrong?'

‘Looking at the champagne made me remember the last time I drank some.'

‘And that wasn't a happy occasion?'

‘It was very happy because it was my wife's birthday. But not long after, she discovered she was pregnant and…'

‘She'll be all right. Sometimes I'm psychic, and I know she will.' She struggled with the wire cage enclosing the cork. ‘Damnit, I can never manage these things. Would you?'

He stood and crossed the room. As she passed him the bottle, their fingers briefly touched. Silk, he thought. He eased the wire loose, revolved the bottle about the cork to free it, poured out two glassfuls.

‘Not a drop lost! You're obviously someone who does everything perfectly,' she said as she took a glass from him. She crossed to one of the armchairs and sat.

He was annoyed to discover that he had instinctively watched to see how far up her thighs her dress rode as she sat.

‘I really am grateful for your coming here. I've been so scared.'

‘You needn't be. As I've told you, the kind of man who makes obscene calls is almost always far too timid to do anything which might put him in the slightest physical danger.'

‘I know, but I still … I'm being very stupid, aren't I?'

‘Far from it.'

‘But when he talked about rape being so much more satisfying…'

He was about to ask her if she'd activated the alert alarm when he remembered that he'd been so certain the trouble was sorted out that he'd advised the telephone company to remove the equipment. ‘Have you thought any more about whether it was the same man?'

‘I've thought a lot. And I can't be certain, but I think it was and he was trying to disguise his voice and that's why I started thinking it was him. Is that possible?'

‘Very much so. But just to try to sort things out, concentrate on the general cadence of the two voices and tell me if they seem to have been the same.'

After a moment, she said: ‘I think they were.'

‘Did he talk about the same things and describe them in the same terms?'

‘He never said before how satisfying rape was, but the way he described rape was similar.'

Despite her answers, he still found it difficult to accept that a man like Wolf would have ignored the warning he had received. ‘I'll have another word with the man and make quite certain that if it was him this last time, he doesn't carry on.'

‘It's wonderful having someone like you to look after me.'

The way in which she said that made him feel ten feet tall.

She stood, picked out the bottle from the ice bucket, crossed and refilled his glass. Because of the depth of her neckline, as she poured he was able to see the curves of her breasts, unhindered by any brassière. He jerked his gaze away.

She refilled her own glass, sat.

‘As soon as I've finished my drink, Miss Varney, I'll…'

‘For heaven's sake, Miss Varney makes it sound as if you regard me with the deepest suspicion. Genevieve.'

‘When I've finished my drink, I'll check out the flat's security.'

‘Why are you always in a rush?'

‘Because, unfortunately, I'm always on duty.'

‘Couldn't you say that a near-hysterical woman refused to let you leave in a hurry?'

‘My sergeant wouldn't believe me.'

‘I could always add a scratch or two for colour.'

He hoped his laugh sounded carefree.

*   *   *

She went into her bedroom and changed into sweater and jeans. Back in the sitting room, she played a Louis Armstrong disc. Trent had wanted her to make a move right away. She had counselled patience. Deny a horse its oats and it became hungry; deny a man, and he became frantic.

*   *   *

Wolf was lupine in name only. Plump, slackly muscled, his normal expression one of weak worry, Sheep would have been more fitting. ‘I swear to God it weren't me.'

‘She says it was the same caller as before,' replied Carr. ‘That makes it you.'

‘I ain't never made that kind of a call. What's more, I couldn't of phoned her this morning.'

‘Why not?'

‘I was in church.'

‘Like I was having breakfast with Madonna.'

‘Ask my ma.' Wolf's fingers plucked the air as he stood near the small boarded-up fireplace, on the mantelpiece of which were several grunge holiday mementoes.

‘Mothers don't make reliable witnesses because they can get so sentimental they tell fibs about sons even like you.'

‘Then ask the vicar. I'm a sidesman.'

It was too unlikely a scenario to be disbelieved. Which meant that, despite the odds, it had been a second man who'd phoned Genevieve that morning. And, contrary to what he'd said more than once, he might well pose a physical threat.

He left a few minutes later, pursued by frantic calls that Wolf had been telling the truth, the whole truth, so help him God, the twelve apostles, and serried ranks of archangels.

It was quicker to go along the back streets, even though the traffic in the centre of the town was likely to be considerably lighter than on a week day. Egremont Road proved to be solid with parked cars and he had to leave his one road away.

He climbed the steps of number 36 and pressed the flat 3 button on the entryphone. There was no response. The previous visit but one, she'd been having a shower. As he pressed the button a second time, he lathered her back …

He turned, descended the steps, and began to walk to his car. He wished he did not have so active an imagination. He concentrated on remembering to get on to BT to ask them to replace the Caller Display and the alert units.

12

Carr went along to Wyatt's room once again and finally found the detective sergeant there. ‘I've found out where Mrs Simpson's living.'

‘From the time it's taken, she's probably died from old age.'

‘I'll go and get a statement from her. And since she's not far from Miss Varney, I thought I'd call on her and tell her the telephone people will be along soon to reinstal the units.'

Wyatt, who'd been standing by the side of the desk, crossed to the window and looked out. ‘You're sure it wasn't Wolf again?'

‘I had a quick word with the vicar and he says that obviously he can't vouch for every moment, but he reckons Wolf must have been there throughout.'

‘It's one hell of a coincidence.'

‘But if it wasn't Wolf, it's happened.'

He turned round. ‘Have you fixed for George to check the flat's security?'

‘I had a look round yesterday and reckon it's about as good as it can be without spending a fortune. The main thing is, there's a panic button and the line goes direct through to control. Provided she doesn't open the door to anyone she doesn't know, she should be safe.'

‘Still get George there.'

‘OK.'

‘How's Gloria?'

‘She was in one of her down moods last night.'

‘Sorry to hear that … Freda said she'd be popping in this morning. Might help to cheer her up.' He crossed to the chair behind the desk, sat. ‘You can get moving – the work's piling up and Jerry's called in sick.'

‘What's up with him?'

‘Flu. Says he's in bed. When I started in the force, a dose of flu wasn't a good enough excuse for turning up five minutes late.'

‘Things have changed since Robert Peel.'

‘Bloody funny.'

Carr drove in the CID Escort the seven miles to Blenchthorne, once a small village serving a local community, now several times that size and largely populated by commuters who had little relationship with the countryside.

Mrs Simpson was staying with her mother, who had been ill, in one of the small council bungalows for elderly people. Her mother had recovered sufficiently to be garrulous and querulous, and it took him over three-quarters of an hour to obtain the witness statement.

He returned to the Escort. Did he sneak a very quick visit to the hospital? Since he'd been held up for so long, time had become at a premium and it surely was an idea he had to forget. He started the engine. He'd been very quick to come to that decision. Because his visit to the hospital the previous evening had been so painful, with Gloria in tears? A sense of guilt dictated that he would visit her. Provided only that if Genevieve were at home, he could get away from her flat after no more than a couple of minutes.