Czech Mate (13 page)

So high on happiness was he that he was reluctant to go directly to his room in the noisy accommodation block. He would certainly call his parents to give them the news of his success, but he wanted to hug his excitement to himself for a while. The early evening added to his heady sense of triumph; the clear, cold sky was filled with stars, the ground was glittering with frost, the air was chill and invigorating.

He began to run, enjoying the sound of his boots crunching the crusted snow, and then he leaped in the air with arms waving, shouting ‘YEE-OW!' Ahead was the Recreation Centre with the outdoor chess board alongside it. The squares were presently obliterated by snow, but the child-sized pieces were lined up on each side like frozen ranks of soldiers. Filled with exuberance, he seized the nearest queen and began a crazy dance with her, laughing and repeating the cry, ‘YEE-OW!'

He was unaware of a car pulling up, and of a figure fast closing in on him.

Six

M
ax dressed for dinner in the uniform he wore only when the occasion demanded he must. As he knotted his tie he acknowledged that he was as excited as a youth anticipating his first date. He had definitely emerged from the bleak emotional hiatus following Susan's tragic death. Tonight would be make or break time. Livya Cordwell wore no rings, but that was no real indication of a footloose situation. If she declined his invitation to dinner it would be a bad blow. Livya had taken him by storm and time was his enemy. His father would doubtless have secured his objective by now. Max was less experienced in the seduction game.

There would be a seating plan tonight, so it was unlikely that they would be within speaking distance during the extended meal, even if they happened to be at the same table. That curtailed his opportunities severely. Her manner towards him suggested a return of interest, but that could be due to two things. The fact that he knew little or nothing about chess, which made for relaxing communion after the intensity of play during the day, or because he was Andrew Rydal's son. He could not help wondering how closely associated they had been.

Making a last check on his reflection in the long mirror, Max headed for the ground floor ante-room pushing to the back of his mind for tonight all professional problems. Before leaving his office an hour ago the latest pathologist's report had come in, stating that it was still impossible to determine the cause of Treeves' sudden death. This was bad news for Corporals Meacher and Stubble who were anxious for a conclusion that would remove any suggestion of culpability.

Then there was Kevin McRitchie's accusation against his mother that had to be followed up. Several women had attested to Mavis's unbroken presence at the Badminton Club, which supported SIB's belief that the boy had made a wild claim due to agitation over her sexual approach to him.
That
aspect had to be taken seriously and acted upon.

In addition, Tom had presented a new slant on the assault because he had overheard a telephone call from Lucy Farmer to someone called Alan. In theory, it was the most attractive lead so far,
if
the Alan was Sapper Rowe and
if
they could uncover a motive.

Max smiled as he started down the stairs. He had once quoted Scarlett O'Hara saying hopefully, ‘Tomorrow is another day', and Tom Black had replied, ‘Yeah, but we never got to see what tomorrow brought, do we?' Right now, Max Rydal felt he could bear to wait until tomorrow came. Tonight was more vital.

The seating plan showed that Max would be next to Lucy Farmer on table two, while Captain Cordwell was to be flanked by a chess-playing squadron leader and a lieutenant of Royal Engineers on table three. Entering the ante-room, Max spotted Livya with a lively group holding drinks in one hand while simulating chess moves with the other.

As he approached she smiled warmly, which encouraged firm action. Taking her arm in a light clasp, he said to the men around her, ‘Sorry, guys, Captain Cordwell is wanted for questioning.'

She was laughing as he steered her between the assembled officers to a deserted corner. ‘Am I under arrest?'

‘No, I'm just holding you on suspicion of being too popular with other eggheads. Am I right in thinking they were replaying all the clever moves they made today?'

‘I'm afraid so. We tend to do that unless someone reminds us that there are other things in life.'

‘Such as?'

‘Such as talking to someone like you who knows a game is only a game. You have your feet firmly on the ground, Max.'

‘Is that good . . . or extremely dull?'

She looked him deep in the eyes. ‘It's what you make it, don't you think?'

Feeling that it was no real answer, he asked rather bluntly, ‘How well do you know my father, Livya?'

‘Professionally, or personally?'

He hesitated. ‘Both, I suppose.'

‘We've worked together on three occasions and I have enormous respect for him. He's clever, experienced and utterly dependable. Courageous, too. On the personal side, he has great charm and knows how to use it to his advantage, but look a little deeper and you see a sad, lonely man.'

‘What?' Max was startled.

‘He carries a photograph of your mother wherever he goes. Although she died twenty-two years ago, I think he has never fully recovered from that loss.' She paused. ‘Have you?'

He frowned, wishing he had not begun this topic. He was wasting time. ‘I was only six when she died.'

Her hand rested on his sleeve with great gentleness. ‘Poor little boy!'

Changing the subject swiftly, he said, ‘I'm a big boy now, and I want to spend some time with you away from here. Will you have dinner with me on Saturday at a hotel in town?'

‘Yes.'

Relief made him smile. ‘Hoorah! A woman who makes swift decisions.'

‘No, Max, I decided two days ago to spend Saturday with you. If you hadn't asked me, I'd have asked you, but as a chess player I wanted to lure you into making the first move.'

His smile broadened. ‘You're welcome to lure me into doing anything you want.'

Her dark eyes assessed him for a moment or two. ‘I believe you really mean that.'

‘I believe I do, too,' he agreed, sobering. ‘Livya, is there anyone important in your life back in England?'

The moment of truth was lost as a bugle call announced that they should take their places at table. Tonight's host was once a distinguished cavalry regiment, which these days went into battle on wheeled tracks but retained old traditions with determination. Although this was not a VIP dinner, with regimental silver adorning the top table and all attendant ceremony, it was a guest night which called for mess dress and semi-formality. Hence the bugler to announce dinner.

The chess-playing squadron leader appeared too promptly to escort Livya to the table, leaving Max to mutter, ‘Punctilious bastard!' But he was on a high, and feasted his eyes on Livya's neat curves in her regimental long dress and green monkey jacket as she walked ahead of him.

Lucy Farmer also looked disturbingly attractive despite the clash of red hair against her scarlet jacket. She greeted Max with typical heartiness, eyeing his uniform.

‘So you're a soldier tonight, not a detective. Good. I shan't have to watch my tongue.'

Max took his place beside her. ‘So long as you're a soldier tonight, not a police groupie.'

She laughed, her lively eyes sending a blatant message that fell on stony ground. ‘You look even more impressive in uniform. Enough to set a girl's heart beating faster.'

Shaking out his napkin, Max smiled at her. ‘Careful, Lucy, or my detective half will start thinking that flattery is designed to hide the fact that you've been up to something.'

It was only momentary, yet Max saw a flash of awareness cross her face and wondered if Tom had truly discovered a significant piece of evidence. She was equal to the occasion, however.

‘I'm forever
up to something
, Max. Life's too short to sit back and wait for old age. Isn't that why you're spending so much time with a certain female chess player?'

Very smart, he thought, but two can play games. ‘You mean Captain Cordwell? She works with my father. He's been unwell lately and I've been unable to get over on a visit. She's revealing the facts he's hiding from me.'

‘Oh, not serious, I hope?'

Unsure whether or not she believed him, Max shook his head and said lightly, ‘He'll live until I take a three-day break at Christmas.'

A steward came between them to serve their starter, another to pour wine. Max took the opportunity to turn to the regimental subaltern seated on his right to ask about the list pinned up, asking for volunteeers to take part in an informal mess entertainment in the week before Christmas. He was then treated to an enthusiastic description of last year's hilarious sketches and antics performed by the more outgoing mess members. Max vowed to avoid this year's offerings like the plague.

They were well into the main course when Lucy stopped flirting with the man on her left, and the two facing her, then turned her attention back to Max.

‘Are you allowed to take leave in the middle of a case?' Seeing his momentary incomprehension, she added, ‘Three day break at Christmas.'

He nodded. ‘The wheels don't stop turning if I'm not there.'

She ate more carrots and lamb cutlet, then gave him a sideways glance. ‘Anywhere near to discovering who assaulted young Kevin?'

‘Yes,' he replied deliberately. ‘The lad's memory of it is improving and he's given us a strong lead.'

‘How exciting! I suppose you're not allowed to give me a clue.'

‘You suppose correctly. You'll have to wait until we make an arrest, I'm afraid.'

‘Soon, I hope, then you can visit your sick father with an untroubled mind.'

He recognized provocation in her attitude, but it was surely based on disbelief of his reason for interest in Livya. Lucy had betrayed no concern about the lead Kevin had given them. Yet that young woman had something to hide. His experience in dealing with people told him so. Before he could probe further, he was approached by one of the stewards who told him Sergeant-Major Black had called asking Captain Rydal to ring him at the first opportunity.

‘He said it's urgent, sir.'

Max stood, offered his excuses to those around him then approached the Commanding Officer, quietly explained the situation, and asked permission to leave. Walking past table two he caught Livya's eye and attempted an optical apology. Up in his room he called Tom's mobile number. It was answered immediately.

‘I've just come upon the body of a young soldier outside the Recreation Centre. A savage blow to the head. The lad's dead, sir.'

‘Be there in ten,' said Max swiftly, cutting the connection and reaching for his boots and greatcoat. This was a serious development. The venue, the modus operandi and the choice of young male victim must surely link this attack with the one on Kevin McRitchie. Were they dealing with a serial offender? Would Kevin have been killed if the attacker had not been disturbed by the advent of the Clarkson boys?

As Max drove along the perimeter road, fine snow began drifting gently from a sky that had been clear and star-filled an hour or so ago. When he reached the Recreation Centre he climbed from his car and trod over the deeper snow to where Tom was in the middle of another call on his mobile. He was still wearing his dark trousers, but had replaced the tailored jacket with a padded anorak. His breath was vaporizing in the chill atmosphere as he ended the conversation. He looked unusually upset.

Max guessed why. The small body lying curled in a foetal position, on which snowflakes were silently settling, looked grotesque flanked by the large overturned figures of a red queen and black bishop. The Recreation Centre was closed and in darkness, but the security lights outside the building illuminated the scene – a pool of brilliant light piercing the hushed surrounding darkness. Had nobody witnessed the boy's last desperate moments?

‘George Maddox is getting a SOCO team underway, and the Duty Doctor will be here as soon as he's dealt with a lance-corporal who slipped and cut her head.' Tom's voice grew harsher. ‘He said a corpse can afford to wait, the girl can't.'

‘Don't tell me. The Duty Doctor is Clarkson again.'

Tom's expression gave the answer.

‘He's right, of course. Pity about his manner.' Max squatted beside the body. From the portion of the face half-buried in snow that was visible, Max could see he was little more than a boy. His head was bloody, his blond hair matted with it. The snow around it was red. It had been a vicious attack.

He glanced up at Tom. ‘What the hell are we dealing with here?'

‘I know the lad, sir,' he replied thickly. ‘Musician Tony Clegg, whom Kevin pestered for guidance on how to make it in the world of pop. Clegg was apparently a hugely talented lad with a truly worthwhile life ahead. I think we have a nutter on our hands. Who else would be attacking these innocent lads?'

‘Not Lieutenant Farmer. She was sitting next to me when you called.' Max straightened, pulling his greatcoat collar up to prevent snow sliding down his neck. ‘And presumably not Mavis McRitchie. We
are
looking at the same perpetrator, aren't we?'

‘It has to be. Clegg was struck with great force with this black chess piece. There's blood and matter on it,' Tom said. ‘I guess the red queen was snatched up by Clegg to defend himself.'

Max sighed as he looked around at the deserted white distance stretching in each direction. ‘What was the boy doing here? It's completely off the route for the band offices or his quarters, and there doesn't appear to be anything going on at the Centre tonight.'

‘I called the Bandmaster. No reply at home, and his mobile is switched off. Probably at some official function. He'll maybe give us a lead on why Clegg was walking here. Sir, surely this suggests the link between the two attacks is music.'