Episode 10 - Business as usual?

Friday September 12

Charlie had spent the night at Cleo’s again because Gary had to work late and the girl was exhausted after an afternoon with her daddy followed by the chore of putting a school uniform together.

Gary came for breakdast and delivered his two daughters to a delighted Edith before driving  to North Wales with Cleo to the accompaniment  of Beethoven turned up loud. They were happy together, though Gary sensed the Cleo was struggling with a problem she did not want to discuss right there. Gary did not force the issue.

***

Cleo was glad not to have to talk. She had slept alone the previous night. But that disturbed her less than the message Robert sent out by moving to the box room. He wanted her to choose, but it was not to be Gary. Cleo knew he had wanted to ask and hadn’t.

Cleo knew she should be glad that Robert had found the strength to move out of their bed, but for an unaccountable reason she wanted to be the one who made the final decision, and she was avoiding it as it meant throwing Robert out of her cottage. He had nowhere to go to since her mother was living in the flat about the butcher’s shop that Robert had lived in for decades.

***

Robert had left or the shop before she got up and had not said goodbye. Cleo was very glad that Gary was going to take the girls to Edith’s. She arranged for Gloria to collect PeggySue when Cleo phoned to say she was on the way home. Charlie could stay a the vicarage longer if she was having fun there.

***

Cleo’s text to Brass from the car at Gary’s request was answered promptly. The sergeant had not shown up for duty, but it was still too early for him if he was having lunch first. After giving Brass strict instructions to act normally and not say they were in town if and when the sergeant turned up, Cleo and Gary drove straight to the Congress Centre  in Morlin Bay, a few miles down the coast, from Frint-on-sea, to interview a guy named Dr Amar Smith about the incident involving Angie.

Dr Smith was giving a talk so they had to wait for it to finish. They cornered him when it was over and led him to a private room for the questioning.

Dr Smith, a half-blood of unidentifiable origin with wet lips and a lecherous air, confessed to flirting and then making advances to the hostess. She had become hysterical, he told them. He certainly had not intended to rape the girl, he said. Beads of sweat were running down his cheeks and the doctor had panic in his eyes, as was pointed out to him by Cleo, who had otherwise merely listened. Gary was finding it difficult to believe Dr Smith’s statement. Cleo found the man revolting.

Eventually, Dr Smith was arrested for attempted rape. The local police. who had already been notified. took him to an arrest cell to await further instructions. The patrol police, who had hurried into the building from their strategic position sitting in their car outside in case there was a security scare, were wide-eyed when they saw Gary’s identity badge. He told them he would explain later how he came to be there. He would also question the prisoner again later.

In the meantime, Dr Smith was to be kept safe and sound and treated with respect. Did he have a case to answer? Those cops were dying to know what it was all about, but Gary did not say.He merely indicated that was possible, but an identity parade would have to be held so that the plaintant could confirm his identity before further steps could be taken.

***

At Brass’s police station they found the constable locking up ready to go home. He would be there early on Saturday morning, he said, mainly to deal with the dog licence cases. The reason for Gary’s presence was on Brass’s back burner. For him it was business as usual. Cleo wondered how often he had gone through his routine without reporting the sergeant’s inconsiderate behaviour and frequent absenteeism.

Brass reported that the forensic team had finished the analysis of the bedsit murder scenario. A paramedic had called the police because he wanted to do his brother, a policeman based at Headquarters, a favour by giving him a tip-off. Gary was short of words to react to that statement. On request, Brass had let them into the beachhut where Miss Sweet had been killed, but did not know how long they were there. They just locked up with the key provided, Once the forensic tests were done, it apparently did not matter who went in. Gary wondered about the poor cooperation in the police department serving Frint-on-Sea. There would me no possibility of going to the beachhut again for more investigations. They never went anywhere twice, they said, and anyway, it was being cleaned up for the next visitors.

***

Brass then led Cleo and Gary to the scene of Ivy Frobisher’s murder, which was in the end beachhut in that row. Gary wondered if anyone had gone past during the hours of darkness. No one had come forward. A forensic team had already left, but there were still two policemen on duty from HQ. They were eager to ditch the boring job of guarding a beachhut and were puzzled about the involvement of sleuths from as far away as Middlethumpton.

Word about Cleo and Gary’s involvement in a previous incident had either not got around or the story of a copper and a private sleuth being drafted in from so far away was being treated as a joke.

Brass introduced Cleo and Gary to the patrol cops with a note of pride in his voice. The situation was quite farcical, Cleo decided, but being diplomatic, she justified their presence with a great deal of tact. No. Chief Inspector Hurley did not want to tread on anyone’s toes, but in the absence of Sergeant Llewellyn, Constable Brass was having a hard time and their support was necessary.

Gary was less diplomatic, but the local cops kept any negative comments to themselves. The Chief Inspector could be quite officious when he had to be and now he was flaunting his superior status. Cleo thought the situation might have been comical had not the killing of Ivy Frobisher been the reason they were there.

Eventually, Gary had to admit to Cleo that there was nothing more they could do that day. Llewellyn must be found, but that was a job for the local police. The murder at the B and B was already in the hands of HQ, so Gary suggested that he and Cleo ate dinner at the Grand Hotel and then got a good night’s sleep. Cleo was surprised that he had thought of booking a room. She wondered if they would get home next day. Gary thought that would depend on whether the local police had pulled the stops out and made further questioning worthwhile, as well as on what happened at the identity parade and not least depending on what Angie had to say. They would drive home on Sunday. That was a promise Gary could make even if he had to come back again.

***

At the hotel, arguably the best in town, the wooden-panelled, badly lit old-fashioned  dining room was crammed with senior citizens eating the menu of the day. Cleo and Gary were obliged to eat the same menu, there being no choice. They sat at a small corner table in a kind of exclusive twosomeness that would be interpreted as an assignation by a romantic author. Then they went to their separate rooms on separate floors. Gary explained that having separate rooms by no means meant that they had to sleep separately, but he wanted to pre-empt any attempt by Robert to track what Cleo was doing and to avoid any gossip about them, which was bound to occur since the Grand Hotel was sure to be staffed by informers and the like.

Cleo was a bit puzzled by Gary’s caution since she was quite sure that the whole of Frint-on-Sea knew about their relationship. Robert would not phone since his pride would not let him.  She took a long hot shower and put on her favourite bathrobe, a genuine kimono bought at a Chicago street market many years earlier. It was cotton, black, elaborately embroidered, and not transparent, so that she looked respectable enough in it to answer the door.

Cleo then phoned the vicarage. Edith had assured Gloria that PeggySue would not be too much for her. Cleo could relax, Editih told her, and Cleo wondered if Edith also knew about Gary. She opened the box of pralines she had had the foresight to pack and settled down to watch an hour of TV.

***

Then there was a knock on her door. Cleo had been hoping that Gary would drop his drastic attempt at caution, but had not expected him to go to the lengths of dressing in a tracksuit and sneakers.

Cleo opened the door, smiled broadly at Gary’s outfit, asked him if he was in disguise, and returned to her chocolates, which lay open on the folded-back counterpane of her bed.

Gary stepped in and closed the door after looking up and down the corridor to see if he had been seen. The scenario was like a sitcom.

“I’m going for a jog along the promenade. Do you feel like joining me?”

“Are you serious? I’m ready for bed.”

“I can see that. It’s too early for bed.”

“It’s never too early for bed, Gary, and anyway, I’m not into running.”

“Now I’m here with you, I’m not into it either,” said Gary, pulling at the laces and then kicking his sneakers across the room. He removed the top half of his tracksuit. Thinking how sweet Gary really was, Cleo applauded and offered him a praline.

“You didn’t seriously expect me to go jogging, did you, Gary?”

“Not seriously.”

“In Churchill’s own words: ‘Why run along a promenade when you can lounge in bed eating pralines?” said pralines.

“I didn’t know you were so decadent,” said Gary.

“Wanna know just how decadent I am?”

“That isn’t exactly what Churchill said, but I’ll go along with it,” remarked Gary, removing the rest of his clothing and streaking into her bed. He pulled the box of pralines out of her hand and Cleo into an embrace. She did not resist. She did not want to.

“The actual quote was “Why sit when you can lie? or something to that effect,” said Gary,holding on to Cleo very tightly.

“I’m not going to run away,” said Cleo. “Did you think I would?”

“Of course not. You have no clothes on under that oriental dressing-gown of yours.”

“It’s a genuine kimono and I was waiting for you,” said Cleo, “but I did not expect you to be so forthright.”

“Am I too forthright?”

“Not by your standards,” said Cleo, hurling her previous kimono across the room.

“Do you mean business, Cleo?”

“I don’t go by my name for nothing,” sie said.

“Lights out?” Gary eventually murmured.

“I’ll have to reach across, Gary. The lamp is on your side.”

“Better wait until I’ve found somewhere to put my socks,” Gary replied.

“Where do you want to put them?”

“Under the bed with the pralines, but only if you aren’t planning to throw me out.”

“Why would I do that? I got the impression that you are here to stay.”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Desperately?”

“Desperately!”

“This could be the first day of the rest of our lives,” declared Gary.

“Ii usually is,” said Cleo. “One thing that is clear to me is that my marriage is all washed up and I’m glad.”

“You’d better tell Dorothy,” said Gary. “There’s no knowing what she will get up to prise us apart and get you back with the butcher guy.”

“She’ll find out soon enough if she does not already know. No doubt Robert will go running to her with his tale of woe.”

“He’d be doing us a favour,” said Gary. “Can we indulge in hanky-panky if my socks are under the bed and the light is out?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Cleo. “Dorothy isn’t looking.”