Czech Mate (6 page)

‘Bound to be. Detecting has been glamorized by Inspectors Morse, Frost and Barnaby on TV.'

Max's roast beef and her soup were brought at that point, causing a conversational hiatus. When the steward departed, Lucy looked at Max eagerly.

‘I suppose you'll want my observations on last night's ghastly end to the kids' party.'

‘Not over the lunch table.'

She pulled a face but still managed to look attractive. ‘Boobed again! Sorry.'

‘If you're not yet acquainted with Ben Steele of the Cumberland Rifles, I must introduce you,' Max said dryly, starting on his beef.

‘Explain, please.'

‘He took too keen an interest in a case we investigated back in April.'

‘I was in the UK then. Is that your tactful way of saying he meddled?'

‘So how long have you been here in Germany?' he responded pointedly.

‘OK, I give in,' she said with another chuckle, ‘but you will want to hear my account of last night, won't you?'

‘Someone will contact you officially later today. Will this be your first experience of a German Christmas, Lucy?'

‘Oh no!' She finally tasted her soup. ‘My older sister is a ballerina with a touring company based in Brussels. They sometimes stage
The Nutcracker
here during the festive period. The parents and I twice came over to see her dance, then went on to ski.'

‘What does a ballerina think of your chosen career?' he asked with real interest.

‘Oh, we both consider the other one crazy. She shudders at the thought of my wearing army boots and participating in mock battles, but I tell you, what her profession does to her feet and body is far worse than the most gruelling exercise has done to mine. She's twenty-five, but her bones and muscles have suffered the wear and tear of someone twice that age.' She shrugged. ‘She simply lives to dance.'

‘Do you live for the army?'

She gave a bright smile. ‘I'm much more down to earth. My interests are many and varied.'

‘Two being skiing and watching TV detectives.'

Her smile widened. ‘You're nice. I was so afraid you'd be grim and judgemental. Look, Max, these days it's possible for women to do almost anything they choose. It's all out there, and I mean to take up every opportunity that offers itself.'

The lunch hour passed very swiftly as Max listened to her enthusiastic opinions on any subject he raised, and was not a little charmed by her. By the time they parted he knew there was one of the adults present at the party whose background now did not need to be checked. Not really detecting over the lunch table, was it? Just making friends with another mess member.

Three

T
he heating system had been completed, but could not operate because the motors had frozen solid, so they all clustered beside the two space heaters to report on interviews conducted that day. Nothing useful had been gleaned from the children, which was much as they had expected. No one had seen a stranger lurking in the corridors, and they had gone up to the toilets in pairs or groups if not accompanied by one of the adults. Children afraid of the dark or deserted places found long, empty corridors scary.

Tactful questioning about the adult helpers had produced no hint of suspicion. They all liked Miss Farmer and Sapper Rowe. They were fun and had joined in the games. Little had been said about Mrs Robinson except that she was ‘sort of smiley but too old for a party'. Clearly, the forty-two-year-old second wife of the Padre was not a hit with the tinies.

Jack Fellowes was known and loved by the younger children on the base as an uncle figure who always participated in their social and sporting activities; someone to be turned to when problems arose in the confidence that he would make everything come right. Their faith had been dented over Kevin McRitchie. Several had actually said they were upset that Uncle Jack had not picked Kevin up and made him better.

On the subject of Kevin himself, the general feedback strengthened Max and Tom's received information that he was admired for his guitar playing. Even the youngest party-goers were enthusiastic.

Summing up after hearing these reports, Max said, ‘So we have a boy of just thirteen who's interested in pop music and little else. Small for his age and strongly averse to what we would call macho activities. Openly despised by his father for having no guts, I suspect he has a close relationship with his mother. She's certainly the parent who's concerned and standing by him now.' He studied his team still wearing their coats and scarves. ‘On the surface Kevin McRitchie is a prime target for school bullies, but he's saved by his musical skill. Even regarded with awe by a number of schoolmates. So I think we can dismiss the theory of an attack by a minor, for the moment.'

Tom nodded at Olly Simpson. ‘Did you get anything from McRitchie's neighbours on noise provocation?'

The lanky sergeant wagged his head. ‘I spoke to the families on each side. They both said McRitchie refuses to let his son practise at home. Kevin joins one of the other three in the group. I managed to speak to the Kings and the Carpenters. They live in the semis on the western border of the base. Not adjacent, but very near. They said they get the occasional complaint when the boys rehearse, but it's never vicious. They usually tell their sons to give it a rest if it goes on too long.'

‘So we can probably discount a neighbour driven berserk by loud pop night after night?'

‘I should think so, sir. Interestingly, Sergeants King and Carpenter seemed very tolerant of what their boys were doing. Even supported their ambition to fix a gig in town. Reg King is his regiment's champion boxer, Jim Carpenter is a former inter-services silver medal miler. They don't appear to feel emasculated by their sons' musical obsession.'

‘My money's on Kevin's dad,' said Piercey, rubbing his hands together for warmth. ‘He knew where the lad was last night. Probably also knew he would be set to have a crafty smoke. A man like McRitchie's likely to let fly because his rules are being broken.'

‘I checked with the people at the Badminton Club,' put in Heather Johnson, always happy to rubbish Piercey's notions. ‘Three of them vouched for Greg McRitchie's presence the entire evening, even in the toilet. Seems they relieve themselves in quartet at the end of a match.' She could not resist adding slyly, ‘None of them spotted him sneaking an additional phallic symbol in his shorts.'

Tom took control swiftly. ‘I judged McRitchie more likely to be goaded into giving the boy a hearty cuff at home. He's not interested enough in his son to plan the assault at the party.'

Max added to that. ‘Mrs McRitchie made it plain to me that her husband has virtually abandoned Kevin to dote on the two girls he can control absolutely. No, he's not our man.'

Staff Sergeant Melly picked up on that. ‘It's unlikely to be an unknown intruder. I checked at both gates. Plenty of people leaving the base. Saturday night exodus! Only two actually
entered
before nine. Colonel and Mrs Trelawney, of the Cumberland Rifles, returning from a cocktail party given by a local dignatory.'

Piercey made a point with slight sarcasm. ‘An intruder bent on mischief is hardly likely to enter by the main gate and sign in. Have Sergeant Maddox's boys checked the perimeter wire?'

‘
Yes
,' said Melly with such aggression it put an end to that subject.

‘Which narrows the field to personnel on-base at the time the assault took place,' Tom said decisively. ‘By eliminating all who checked out for the evening we can narrow it further.'

Derek Beeny spoke for the first time. ‘So far we've not unearthed a motive for the attack. Why Kevin? He's popular with his peers, doesn't annoy the neighbours. He's hardly likely to have the necessary nous to become a pusher and tangle with an outside supplier. Can we be certain Kevin was the intended victim rather than a random one?'

‘We don't know enough about him to answer that yet,' said Connie Bush. ‘Although he spends most of his free time with the King, Carpenter and Peters boys he has to meet with other people. He tried to fix a gig in town. That means he made contacts there, for a start.'

‘But we've agreed it had to be an inside job,' protested Staff Melly.

‘We're running before we can walk,' said Tom firmly. ‘With everything operating normally tomorrow we can interview those not available today, and Kevin should be fit for questioning. That'll give us a great deal more input.'

‘I did manage to talk to the two mums who helped at the party,' Connie Bush added belatedly. ‘A pair of rather dopey women who each think their own child is the sun, moon and stars. Kept using the phrase “my darling little pet”. Neither of them would be aware of anyone else's child, much less hit it with a handy club.'

‘And I was made aware of something worth following up,' put in Olly Simpson. ‘Sorry, sir, it slipped my mind. Must be the low temperature in here.'

Tom let that pass. Civilians would have walked away from a workplace as cold as this. Soldiers had to tough it out. ‘Yes, Sergeant?'

‘The Carpenter boy, Malcolm, said Kevin sometimes met up with Musician Clegg, a drummer in the Cumberland Rifles band who's also in the splinter group that plays for discos on the base.'

‘Ah,' breathed Tom. ‘I tried to get that kind of info from McRitchie to possibly support Beeny's theory of revenge for advances spurned. I'll follow that up in the morning.'

Max got to his feet. ‘Now to Lance-Corporal Treeves, I think we all agree with Mr Black that his story is of the cock and bull variety. The
Polizei
have been alerted, but until we get the driver here for a full account they won't pull out all the stops on it. Right now, I'd like some personal info on the adults at the party. Shouldn't take long, then we'll all go home before we freeze to death. Great effort under difficult conditions today. Well done!'

The day ended in frustration. The duo attempting to collect Treeves were unable to reach the RMP Headquarters where he was being held. They had to put up for the night in a wayside inn where their uniforms guaranteed a reception almost as cold as the temperature outside.

Max set out to drive to the hospital on learning that Kevin could now be questioned, but drifts made the road impassable five kilometres out from the base. He was not altogether sorry to turn back. It was better than being stranded at the hospital all night. The usual human dislike of such places was exacerbated in him by memories of identifying Susan's broken pregnant body three years ago. Whenever his job demanded visits to wards or mortuaries, he made them as brief as possible.

Tom entered his new temporary home with a sense of relief. A loving family welcome, centrally heated warmth and a steak and mushroom pie almost ready to eat. He was a lucky man.

It was good to sit down together for the meal, even if his daughters talked non-stop about clothes and someone called Helmut Weber, a former ice hockey star now a fashion model who apparently turned women into crazed idolators. The man had certainly done that to three females named Black. Thankfully, there was still one who was sane enough to appreciate the bird in her hand.

They played board games until, one by one, the girls went up to bed. As Tom stretched contentedly on the settee, Nora came with a beer for him.

‘There's only enough wine for one glass,' she said sitting beside him with it in her hand, ‘and I didn't think we should open another bottle tonight.'

‘No, we'll need them for when the social round gets fully underway.'

She cast him a wry glance. ‘You might even be here for some of it.'

‘If only everyone observed the goodwill to all mankind mantra, I'd be here for all of it every year.'

‘How's Kevin McRitchie?' she asked after sipping her wine.

‘Recovering. I guess his mother's still with him. Max said the road's blocked, so she'll stay another night there, at least.'

‘How about the two little girls?'

‘Oh, they'll be happy as the day is long with
Dadda
.'

Nora looked at him quizzically. ‘There was a hidden agenda in that comment.'

‘I found that set-up slightly nauseating. They all seemed too
fond
. But Connie Bush interviewed two mothers today who also drooled over their perfect little darlings, so perhaps I'm the weird one.' He studied her. ‘Do the girls think me cold and uncaring, love?'

‘Hey, what's all this?' she demanded, setting the wine glass back on the table before them.

He sighed. ‘I don't know. I just thought . . . You know how much I love them, but I don't think they're the most perfect children ever born. Should I?'

‘No, love, because we're not the perfect parents either.' She laid a hand on his arm. ‘It's not like you to get broody over nonsense like that.'

He then told her about McRitchie's inflexible attitude to the son he was unable to mould to his ideal. ‘I despised him for it, yet I couldn't help wondering if I'd be the same in his place.'

She smiled broadly. ‘No, because I'd never let it happen. That boy's mother is halfway to blame for allowing a sensitive, timid child to be forced into activities totally unsuited to his temperament at such a tender age. You're hot on sexual abuse, Tom. That's a case of character abuse. It often happens, but can't be stopped because it isn't a perceived crime. Poor kid! Small wonder he finds escape in his kind of music. That's his comfort, his solace, the one thing in life he feels safe with.' She frowned. ‘Shouldn't be surprised if he finds it difficult to have relationships when he matures. He might suspect women will let him down the way his mother has, and men will want to dominate him.'

‘As to that, Derek Beeny has a theory that Kevin might have repelled paedophile advances once too often. It seems the most plausible motive for the attack so far.'