Ruth Rendell - Thirteen Steps Down

There seemed nothing new in the book, nothing he hadn't,come across before. He knew all about Beresford Brown, an African Caribbean immigrant and new tenant of 10 RillingtonPlace, taking down a partition in the kitchen and finding twobodies pushed into an alcove. By then Reggie was far away, though not far enough to escape eventual arrest. All this was familiar stuff to Mix, but he read this author's version with interest just the same, anxious for details of the process of decaying corpses. It had been December and cold. Fifty years ago,b efore this global warming, even March would have been freezing, and as for August… Just his luck that today it was hotter than Spain, according to the television, as hot as Dubai.

He had read about fifteen pages-there were only twentytwo on Reggie-when the phone rang. To answer it or not? Might as well. It would be something to do. A man's voice said,"Is Miss Chawcer there, please?" He sounded quite elderly.

"She's not available now," Mix said, and then quickly, "You're not the woodworm people, are you?"

"I'm afraid not. My name is Stephen Reeves, Dr. Reeves."

This wasn't the doctor who was expected later but the man old Chawcer had been writing all those letters to. Mix said, "Oh, yes?"

"Would you give her a message? Would you say I'd like to drop in and see her when I'm next in London?"

He gave a phone number, which Mix said he would write down but didn't. There was no paper or pen at hand. She probably knew the number anyway, she was bound to. "I'll tell her,"he said.

Back to the book and the waiting. The illustrations horrified him but they drew his eyes as well. The bodies looked so squalid, like dirty bundles of rags instead of real dead people. Ethel Christie lay under the floorboards in front of the fireplace in the front room. Would Danila look like that when helifted the boards? When someone else lifted them? Ghosts and those early fears seemed absurd, childish, now that he had real danger to worry about. The caption under another picture said Ruth Fuerst's leg bone had been driven into the ground to support a fence post. Reggie's callousness fascinated him. Not many people, surely, would have the willpower and the nerveto use a bit of a dead human being for such a purpose. He would think of that while he was disposing of Danila's body and it would bring him strength. He would think of Reggie'scoolness and his nerve.

By now he was beginning to get hungry but he didn't fancy anything out of old Chawcer's kitchen. He ran up the stairs twoat a time for the first one and a half flights. After that he was so breathless he had to rest, he had to sit down on one of the treads. Staggering up the rest, he went into his flat to hear hisphone ringing and he stood still, wondering whether to answer it or not. The woodworm people wouldn't phone him and nor would the doctor. Might as well leave it. He made a couple of rough sandwiches by laying pre-sliced cheese between piecesof pre-sliced bread, found a packet of crisps and a muesli bar and went back down to his post at the window.

The two women arrived at the same time. Mix saw one of them step out of a car with a "Doctor" label inside its windscreenand the other alight from a van with a woodgrain pattern allover, Woodrid printed in gold on its side. For some reason heknew plenty would call sexist, he hadn't expected either to be awoman. The doctor was the first to reach the doorstep, a fewpaces ahead of the van driver. She didn't bother much with Mix and spoke brusquely.

"Where is she?"

"In her bedroom," he said with equal gruffness.

"And where might that be?"

"First floor. First door on the left."

The doctor had gone past him and the woodworm woman, already had a foot over the threshold.

"We shan't need you after all," Mix said.

" Youwhat?" She was rather pretty, neatly dressed in a brownuniform with a W on the breast pocket.

"You're not needed. She's ill. Miss Chawcer, I mean. She's ill in bed. She can't talk to you."

The woman stepped back outside but showed no inclinationto go. "I could still take a look. That's all I need to do for a start, take a look at the infestation."

"There isn't an infestation," Mix almost shouted. "I told you, she doesn't want you. Not today. She's ill. Come back nextweek if you want. "

She was saying she didn't want, not if she was going to be spoken to like that, when Mix shut the door in her face. Aftert hat he didn't look out of the window again until he heard the van start up, and when he did look out it was to see Ma Winthrop staggering up the path with carrier bags full of shopping.

She could let herself in, he wasn't going to. And if any of that stuff she was carrying was for old Chawcer's lunch, shecould see to that too. How Queenie "Winthrop guessed he wasin the drawing room he didn't know, but she put her head around the door. She seemed unpleasantly surprised.

"What are you doing there?"

"Letting the doctor in."

"Oh, yes, I saw her car. Isn't she a sweet woman?"

Mix didn't answer. It had suddenly come to him that he had forgotten to phone the head office. "I'm going up to my own place now," he said. "I fed the cat."

Would she go into old Chawcer's bedroom while the doctor was there? Even if she did, even though the woodworm womanhad come and gone, it was far too risky to attempt takingthe body down all those flights of stairs. His only chance was in the night. He would have liked to get out into the garden and look around the place, find the best burial site, see if there was a shed or some sort of outbuilding in which to lay thebody while he dug. Because of projecting roofs and bays, itw as impossible to see more than the end of the garden from his flat.

Phone the head office while they were all in that bedroom, get it over. Later on he could attempt going outside. The receptionist who answered didn't wait for him to say who he wanted to speak to.

"Jack wants to talk to you now." Jack was Mr. Fleisch, the departmental manager. "He really wanted to talk to you like first thing this morning. I'll put him on."

Mix scarcely had a chance to get a word in edgewise. "Arey ou ill? You must be seriously sick to miss four home visits,seven urgent phone calls, and three text messages. Half of west London is out gunning for you. Is it mental or physical? I'd say mental, wouldn't you? That why sending you to the medicdoes fuck-all for you. You are up shit creek, my lad."

"What can I say? Maybe it is mental. Maybe it's depression. I'll have to snap out of it, I know I will."

"Too right. Spot on. Meantime, while you're doing yours napping-out, Mr. Pearson wants to see you first thing tomorrowmornmg. "

"I'll be there," said Mix.

"You'd better."

Things must be serious if he was summoned to the chief executive's presence. A sacking matter, or at best a last-chance matter. To hell with it, he couldn't worry about that now. If he got the body out from under the floor and out into the garden after dark, he would never manage to dig a deep grave and put her in it in a single night. Anyway, he'd be fit for nothing in the morning. He was once more in the room where she lay, nauseous from the strengthening stench but contemplating lifting the floorboard now, when he heard Queenie "Winthrop's loud, fluting voice yelling at him from the first floor.

"Mr. Cellini, Mr. Cellini, are you there? Can you hear me? Can you come down a minute?"

He'd have to or she'd come up. You could smell the smell atthe top of the stairs now. "Okay, I'm coming."

He shut the door and went down the tiled flight and thenext one. Ma "Winthrop looked flushed and excited. "Gwendolen has pneumonia. I can't say I'm surprised. Dr. Smithers is downstairs now, phoning for an ambulance to take her to hospital."

Mix seemed to feel his heart leap in his chest. She was going away! He'd be alone in the house, maybe for a week. He had to ask.