Spanish Inquisition (12 page)

‘Where are you?' he asked when his friend answered.

‘In town. At the Poppin Eaterie questioning the eaters. Problem?'

‘I've just found Norton's mobile in the CD compartment of my Audi.'

‘Ah! That
is
a problem. Chummy must have planted it there after beating her up.'

‘There's worse, Derek. She's retained thirty texts. I've just read them expecting there'd be evidence of his identity; whoever made her pregnant.'

‘And?'

‘They're all texts I sent her. The bastard deleted the rest.'

After a short pause Beeny asked, ‘Haven't you
any
idea of who's behind this?'

‘No, I bloody haven't,' he practically yelled. ‘I keep telling you that. If I had d'you think I'd be sitting here beating my brains out trying to decide what to do?'

‘Do about what?'

‘These texts. They're pretty steamy. Without input from other people it could suggest sexual harassment on my part. They were actually sent over a period of two months, and mostly in response to teasing messages from her . . . which I foolishly haven't retained.'

‘Pity! Her mobile provider will be as adamant as the national telecom company about giving us info on calls made and received by her over the relevant period, so if Chummy's deleted everything your discovery doesn't get us any further forward.'

‘That's what I thought,' he said. ‘So these texts are of no importance.'

‘Inasmuch as they're apparently cringe-making they'll prove how far from basic sanity you'd strayed where she was concerned.'

‘I'm getting sick of hearing that,' he snapped. ‘We have ample witness to the fact that the case against me is a non-starter, so . . .'

‘So what?'

He rushed into it. ‘So if these texts were deleted, like the rest, it wouldn't affect the investigation.'

‘Christ, Phil!' A significant silence. ‘I didn't hear that.'

His anger still burned brightly. ‘Are you a friend or a policeman?' he demanded.

‘A policeman
would
have heard it and start writing a report about evidence being tampered with by the accused.'

Piercey hit out. ‘So you believe I beat her up!'

‘No! But I do think you're treading on eggshells over this. So it'll be degrading to have your hot messages read by your colleagues, especially Heather, but I can work it so that just Olly and I deal with it and write the report.'

‘Yeah, which can then be accessed by the rest of the team.'

‘Grow up, Phil!'

That really stung, because he knew in his heart that he had behaved over Maria like a teenager suffering from juvenile infatuation. Snatching up the mobile he had placed in an evidence bag, he got to his feet.

‘Thanks for your input, Sergeant Beeny. I'm taking the evidence to Headquarters immediately. Don't want anyone tampering with it.'

‘I
was at the show. I watched her for almost two hours and heard her sing. I attended the self-indulgent party that followed, and viewed her close up. Then I drove us all home and went happily to bed with you, enjoying young Christopher's antics against my hand on your stomach.'

‘What's your point, Tom?' asked Nora, sitting on the sofa beside him with her head against his shoulder.

‘I've spent two days listening to eulogies on Maria Norton aka Carmen. Blokes were prepared to fight over her, they clustered around her at that party as if attached by superglue. Ron Parkin, a walking Adonis, bends the rules to allow her to use the gym to practise her arias . . . and Christ knows what else! A staff sergeant with a wife and four kids in Ireland carries a photo in his wallet of himself in a clinch with her. She turned Phil Piercey from macho man to simpering mouse – you should read his text messages to her – and the Bandmaster has been “stunned” by an operatic fantasy. I swear he's waiting for news that she's been killed by a jealous lover to bring on a full artistic orgasm.'

She chuckled softly against his sleeve. ‘And you're worried that you're losing your sexual drive because you get more satisfaction from feeling your son kicking my innards?'

‘I telephoned the vocal coach she's been taking lessons from. Gisela Bensen knew who it was. Now, he's a retired bass who's actually been on stage with Domingo once or twice, so he must be a sophisticated performer of discerning age. He raved about her, practically broke down on hearing what's happened. Promised to look for her in the cafés and coffee houses they frequent for discussions after lessons. Dirty old devil!'

Nora laughed outright. ‘You don't know that.'

‘I can make an informed guess.'

‘It's not informed, it's biased.' She sat straighter. ‘Let's have a drink before the girls arrive like a ravenous horde. There's only three of them, but they fall on food like twice the number.'

‘Wait until young Christopher develops his appetite. He'll give them a run for their money.' He got up and filled two large glasses with red wine. ‘What's for supper?'

‘Chicken casserole with dumplings, followed by apricot mousse.'

‘Two of my favourites.' He settled beside her again and touched his glass to hers. ‘
Prost
! Nora, why would
I
lust after any other woman when I have you?' Next moment he grew surprisingly emotional. ‘Without you I'd be nothing, you know that, don't you?'

She kissed him gently. ‘Softie!'

They drank their wine in reflective silence until Nora returned to the subject of Maria Norton. ‘There've been no reports of her whereabouts? No sightings?'

‘Beeny went to the caff where she reportedly ate a sandwich and made three calls on the public phone. He stayed for an hour and a half, questioning those who came in for a lunch snack. The only success was a statement from a young Frenchman, who said he saw her leaving as he entered. Had to stand aside to allow her through with a couple of heavy bags. Beeny rated him a bit of a weirdo, but his description of Norton rang true. The witness thought she'd turned right, which would have taken her back past the Imperial, so Beeny asked there if she had returned. A snooty undermanager told him she had caused trouble and upset their guests, so the doorman had been told not to admit her if she should come back. The Imperial did not count common soldiers as desirable guests!'

‘Poor girl,' said Nora with feeling. ‘Imagine if it was one of ours in that predicament.'

‘
She
made the decision to abscond,' Tom pointed out. ‘Clare Goodey was looking after her medically, and we were quick off the mark with our investigation. I was called from my bed at three in the morning and worked all day Sunday on it, if you recall. The Army was doing its best for her.'

‘I know, love, but from what you've told me she had no friends on the base. Men only wanted sex, and women were all resentful or jealous. Her parents seem to be professional people living apart. She had no one to turn to.'

‘Oh, come on, you'll be shedding tears next. This is a young woman who milks men's vulnerability and flaunts it in front of other women. Her promiscuous tendencies drove one admirer to attack her, and she had no compunction in laying the blame on another, knowing it would have serious consequences for him.'

‘Mmm, the hardheaded policeman,' murmured Nora with a hint of sadness. ‘There's always a reason why people behave as they do.'

‘Yes, and the reason she behaved as she did is because she gets her kicks from dangling men on a string until she lets them drop with a painful thump. She's like Lorelei – sings men towards their destruction.'

At that point, the brown puppy who had been sleeping peacefully against Nora's soft slippers suddenly got to her paws and ran to the front door.

‘That'll be the girls.'

Tom wagged his head in wonderment. ‘How does she always know they're coming, even before they turn the corner?'

Nora grinned. ‘She's the offspring of army dogs. What d'you expect?'

Three minutes later there was the sound of lively voices and excited yapping from Strudel. Considering it ‘a bloody stupid name for a dog' Tom invariably addressed the puppy as ‘tyke', which earned him protests and admonishing assaults on his person from his daughters, which he secretly loved. The house came alive as girls and small dog competed to be heard, and Nora went to the kitchen to serve supper.

Holding back for a moment or two, Tom indulged once more the prospect of Christopher Black joining their ranks. A son, at last! What need had he of being stunned by a fictional temptress when he had all he could want right here?

In ten days it would be Easter. The March evening was balmy enough to open the windows in the large room which separated the two one-bedroom apartments, and was available for use by both residents. Max and Clare both had the facility to lock the door leading to their own premises, but tonight they were eating supper at the extensive table designed for use when they had guests.

Max had been keen to dine at Herr Blomfeld's inn to compensate for the deferred reunion last night, but Clare said she was tired after dealing with the casualties from the road accident until the early hours, and would prefer to eat at home where she could wear something loose and comfortable. While he had been in Spain she had discovered a wonderful caterer which would deliver hot meals to order, and she had regularly taken advantage of the service.

‘It's gourmet meals on wheels,' she told him as they had parted after a light lunch in the Officers' Mess. ‘Trust me. You'll find these people a godsend. Forget frozen meals for one. Their choice is astonishing. I'll place the order when I get back to my office, and set a reasonable time for delivery. We'll eat in the main lounge, and you can relax afterwards while I play Grannie's piano. How does that sound?'

‘As if you're determined I'll continue to convalesce.'

She had just laughed and said nothing more until he delivered her to the Medical Centre. Climbing from his car, she pointed.

‘That's the way to the main gate and the road leading home. Get going!'

He had got going but, as Clare revealed as she served pork cutlets with roasted vegetables and apple rings, then opened the insulated container filled with thick savoury sauce, it had not been in the direction of the main gate.

‘You don't deserve pampering because you defied my orders this afternoon. Duncan saw you leaving your headquarters half an hour after I told you to go home.'

His niggling jealousy over the Scottish doctor made him demand whether she employed him as a spy. She silently held his gaze until he explained. ‘My first visit the inquisitive major informed you of was due to the discovery that one of the casualties of the RTA you and he were involved with carried evidence of a warm relationship with Maria Norton. I was on my way home when I called in to pick up some notes from my office.

‘Apparently, the missing girl is one of Signals' staff who deal with classified material. They are now worried about who she might have gone to on leaving the base, having been privy to something they consider to be highly sensitive. This puts a new slant on the case. The assault could have nothing to do with her pregnancy. She could have run from someone demanding that knowledge and trying to beat it out of her, which gives the case deeper significance. It also puts greater pressure on us to find her.'

Setting down her knife and fork, she said, ‘Max, I know where this is leading. Tom and the team would have to deal with it if you were still in Spain.'

‘But I'm
not
,' he replied emphatically. ‘The situation is this. The team has on its hands the tasks of finding the perpetrator of a vicious attack on a female soldier, discovering who's waging a vengeful campaign against Phil Piercey, tracing the whereabouts of the victim who is battered, bruised and pregnant, and now they have to add the fact that she's a security risk. They need all the help they can get, and I intend to offer it.'

‘What about the uniformed lads?'

‘They have to make security arrangements for a group of senior officers arriving for talks with the West Wilts, who are coming in from Afghanistan tomorrow, and prepare plans for the Open Day on Easter Saturday when the base is open to the public. All that in addition to their normal patrols.'

Clare resumed eating. ‘You mount a strong defence.'

Max decided to drop the subject, saying, ‘You're right about the food. This is delicious. Is there a pudding?'

‘Of course. Knowing men don't consider they've had a meal unless they've finished with something sweet and probably so solid it'll lay on their chest for most of the night, I ordered a fruity concoction light enough for me, but which comes with chocolate-covered ginger shortbreads. I'll generously bestow my share of them on you.'

‘Bet it's because you don't like ginger shortbread.'

She sipped her wine. There was laughter in her blue eyes highlighted by the glow from candles in a branched holder that she had placed on the table. Studying her slender figure in a soft green plush kaftan, Max knew she lived up to the expectations he had had on deciding to leave her villa and attempt to clarify their relationship.

With Susan and Livya it had been instant and overwhelming attraction, which had not lasted for either of the women, but this love for Clare had come after they had been colleagues, neighbours and friends for nine months; had shared professional problems as well as pleasant, uncomplicated leisure times. In Spain his slow recovery had hampered the possibility of advancing their new closeness, but they had been at ease with each other because each knew the other in their every mood. For him, fondness had deepened slowly to make him aware that this time it was different. Lasting. He was fairly certain she felt that, too.

The meal finished, they poured the last of the wine and relaxed. Max settled in one of the deep armchairs by the window to listen while Clare played her grandmother's piano rescued from the wartime blitz. The wine, the music, the certainty of finally finding the future he had twice sought and lost induced in Max such desire for her he wondered how he would be able to deny it when the evening ended.