A Spoonful of Luger (46 page)

“You
were
still
uncertain?”

“I
wanted
you
to
be
here.
That’s
all.
If
you’d
gone,
that’d
be
the
end
of
any
doubt ...
But
somehow
I
couldn’t
believe
that
you’d
gone.
The
super
wanted
to
leave,
but
I
insisted
—
me
,
insisting
to
a
super!
God,
I
was
wild
that
night
—
insisted
on
breaking
in.
And
we
found
you.”

“Yes,
you
said.”

I
couldn’t
go
on
for
a
moment.
There
were
two
things
I
still
couldn’t
face,
not
after
all
my
years
of
toughening,
and
those
were
crimes
against
children
and
suicides.
I’d
had
both
in
this
town,
and
my
guts
were
aching
with
it
all.
The
memory
came
surging
back,
the
moment
we’d
walked
into
the
bedroom
and
found
Anne.
She
was
still
legally
living,
but
she’d
gone
away
from
me,
somewhere
I
couldn’t
reach.
That’s
the
thing
with
suicide,
you
can’t
reach
them.
Whatever
it
is
—
the
pain,
the
distress
—
it’s
beyond
anyone’s
reach
but
their
own.

I’d
driven
her
into
taking
her
escape
route.

“Why,
Anne,
why?
You
didn’t
have
to
do
that
.
You
could
have
found
another
way
out.”

And
she
burst
into
tears.
That
was
all
I
needed.
Tears
from
a
woman
mean
something
special
to
a
copper,
that
all
reserves
are
exhausted
—
like
Tony’s
resource
to
truth.
But
Anne’s
tears
were
personal.
Her
distress
was
something
I
couldn’t
reach.

I
sat
down
opposite
her
and
tried
to
speak
gently.

“I
knew
I’d
deceived
you,
and
that
I’d
driven
you
to ...
that.
Everything
else
was
background,
all
the
departmental
faff
that
went
on.
They
disciplined
me,
you
know,
almost
threw
me
out.”
She
didn’t
look
up,
but
I
felt
she
was
listening.
The
only
words
I
could
find
seemed
hopelessly
inadequate.
“But
none
of
that
mattered.
I
went
down
a
notch,
back
to
a
constable
on
the
cars.
But
it
didn’t
matter ... ”

She
lifted
her
head.
“That’d
be
later
— much
later?”

I
shrugged.
“I
couldn’t
just
forget
it.
Oh,
I
tried.
You
can’t
know
how
I
tried.
I
waited
around
the
town
until
I
knew
you
were
safe ... ”

“You
said.”

“A
week,
that
was.
Probably
the
worst
week
in
my
life,
with
the
super
phoning
—
I
was
at
the
Bedford
that
time,
too
—
and
ordering
me
to
report
for
duty.
But
that
was
impossible.
As
far
as
I
was
concerned,
they
could
go
to
hell.
And
of
course,
I
couldn’t
face
you.
I
went
back
to
HQ,
and
it
didn’t
seem
to
matter
what
they
did
with
me.”

She
sat
a
long
time
without
speaking.
I
waited,
like
a
criminal
for
the
jury
to
return.
It
was
a
relief
to
have
it
said,
but
too
late
for
apologies.

Then
at
last:
“You’ve
thought
about
it
a
lot,
haven’t
you,
George!”
Still
not
meeting
my
eyes.
“What
strange
conclusions
you’ve
come
to.”

“Strange?”

“That
you
should
blame
yourself,
and
wallow
all
these
years
in
self-pity.
George,
you’re
quite
impossible.
There wasn’t
any
point
in
your
coming.”

“It
was
for
you.
Obviously,
you
wanted
to
discuss
it.”

“Oh
George,
don’t
be
a
fool.”

“I
was
hoping
perhaps
you’d
forgive ... ”

“Damn
you,
use
your
intelligence.”

“I’m
not
an
intelligent
man.”

“It’d
take
some
intelligence
to
recognize
it,”
she
said
bitterly.
“But
you’re
clumsy
and
unimaginative.
Worst
of
all,
you’re
the
most
introverted
man
I’ve
ever
met.
And
you’ve
grown
worse.
Think,
George,
use
your
imagination.”

I
was
lost,
being
attacked
from
a
direction
I
couldn’t
understand.
“You
don’t
have
to
go
on
at
me.”

“Don’t
I?
Somebody
does.
Oh,
go
away,
George.
You’re
hopeless.”

“Are
you
sending
me
away?”

“Wasn’t
that
what
I
said?
At
least
you
won’t
have
to
believe
you
ran
away
this
time.”

“Ran
away?”
I
shouted.
“It
was
for
you.”

“Oh,
get
out.”
Then
she
suddenly flared
at
me.
“Get
out,
damn
you!”

“Anne!”

“Go
and
sort
out
your
problems
somewhere
else.”

I
stood
and
looked
down
at
her,
but
she
stared
blankly
out
of
the
french
window.
The
finality
was
appalling,
and
I
fumbled
for
words
to
prolong
it.