Ruth Rendell - Thirteen Steps Down

"How long for?"

"Doctor doesn't know. A few days, certainly." She addressed him as if he were fourteen years old. "Now you'll be responsiblefor the place while she's away and we're relying on you. Don't disappoint us."

Steph came too, of course. She always did. Those two were inseparable at the moment. That would last a couple of years, Mix thought, and after that, especially if there was a baby, Edwould start going out on his own again.

They were already in the Sun in Splendour when he arrived. He had come very close to forgetting their arrangement and it was a quarter to eight, while he was planning what to say and what excuses to make to Mr. Pearson and Ed's name cameinto his calculations, that he remembered. If he failed to turnup, Ed would definitely never speak to him again. Anyway, he wouldn't mind getting out, having some fresh air and talking toreal people instead of those old women.

He ran down the stairs, feeling almost cheerful. The ambulancehad taken her away at three-thirty and Queenie Winthrophad left with it. No need now to try going into thegarden without being detected. No need to move the body yet.He'd lain down on the sofa with his feet up and read a Reggiebook he'd had for a long time and read at least twice before, Death in a Deckchair, coming to the part that at present interested him most, how decay had proceeded in the bodies of those women, Ruth Fuerst, Muriel Eady, Hectorina McClennan,Kathleen Maloney, Rita Nelson, and the murderer's own wife, Ethel.

It wasn't the best of the Reggie books he had read. The firstprize had to go to Killer Extraordinary , but he'd finish this one chapter. Funny, if anyone had told him six months before that he'd find a book, any book, more fascinating than TV or a game online, he'd have laughed at them. He was still thinking about Reggie and the way he hid those bodies, only two of them buried in the ground, a couple of them partially burnt, when he walked into the pub.

Ed laughed when he saw him and said, "Late as usual.Never mind, eh?"

Mix didn't much like that, but he decided not to argue. Instead he admired Steph's engagement ring and asked when they were getting married.

"That's a long way off," Ed said, fetching him a gin andtonic. "Moved on to the hard stuff, I see."

Mix thought this undeserving of a reply. He expected Ed to ask him to be his best man. Before their row he would have done; maybe he still would, if not tonight.

"You're up shit creek at head office," said Ed. "But I expectyou know that by now."

"You're the second person to say that to me today. I don't want to discuss it."

"When Mr. Pearson's the third person you'll have to."

Steph giggled. But she wasn't an unkind girl and she changed the subject to weddings and homes and mortgages. They talked about that for a while and then she said what was very nearly the worst thing Mix wanted to hear.

"They've been looking for that missing girl in here."

"What missing girl?" He had to pretend.

"Danila Kovic or however you pronounce it. Two policemencame in and talked to that guy Frank, the one who's thebarman. I heard them say she'd applied for a job in herebecause what she was getting at some gym wasn't enough tolive on."

"She didn't get it," said Ed. "Didn't have the experience, Frank said after they'd gone. He knew all about it, he rememberedher. Poor little kid, he called her, said she didn't look old enough to drink, let alone sell booze."

"That wasn't much use to the police," said Mix, ratherrelieved.

They were searching for her, but he already knew that.

Thank God he'd never brought her in here. Talk about somethingelse. "When's the wedding to be?"

"You asked me that already and you'll get the same answer.

Not for a long time."

"We want to get everything straight and everything paid for," said Steph, "before we actually get married. That gives the marriage a better chance, don't you think?"

Mix hadn't an opinion on this, but he agreed and they continued to talk about the new flat and the mortgage and building societies and interest rates until Ed suddenly said, "Frank said he saw her again. Walking down Oxford Gardens withsome guy."

Mix spilled some of his drink. It made a small bubbly pool. He knew he should have said, "Saw who?" but he didn't, he knew as soon as Ed spoke who "her" was. In rather too loud avoice he said, "Tell the police, did he?"

"He said he would. It had slipped his mind at the time he talked to them."

This was the nearest they had got to finding a man in her life. Would this Frank be able to describe him? Would he recognize him?

"Is Frank on tonight?"

Mix fancied his voice hadn't been quite steady when hespoke and he thought Ed looked at him strangely. "He'll be on later."

Wait, don't say you're leaving now, they'll think it a bit dodgy if you do. He forced himself to remain in his chair, though it felt as if every nerve in his body was straining to pushhim out of it and drive him through ~door. But he stayed,sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Have another?" Ed was tired of waiting for Mix to offer.They could sit there all night before he did that. "Same again?"

"I've got to go," Mix said.

What did this Frank look like? He couldn't remember and he couldn't ask. Leaving, he might easily bump into him out in Pembridge Gardens without knowing who he was. But Frank would know him. He said an abrupt good-bye to Steph and "See you" to Ed.

There were plenty of people about. There always were, these fine warm nights. Any of the youngish men might be Frank. The one coming up from Notting Hill Gate might be him or that one getting out of a car. At any rate neither of them seemed to recognize him. Mix could get the bus or walk, buts tanding at the bus stop he'd be more easily spotted, while walking would get him away from the danger area and, besides,it was good for him.

Usually, when he came home to St. Blaise House if it wasn't very late, a dim light showed in two or three windows. A grayish-yellow glow lit the glass half-moon over the front door, the drawing room casements and perhaps one in her bedroom.Tonight there was nothing, the house looked full of unrelieveddarkness, a darkness strong enough and thick enough to pushitself against the windows from inside. Stop imagining things,he told himself, you know it's all in your head. He unlocked the door and went into the silence he expected and wanted.

Ghosts don't exist, there are no such things. That Shoshana would say anything for a fast buck. Don't shut your eyes when you get to the top. Anything you think you see is only in your mind. He kept his eyes open, stared down the passages and saw nothing. And don't start drinking now you're home, keep aclear head.

On the way home he had made up his mind to get the bodydownstairs tonight. But why? There was no need to do it atonce. Old Chawcer would be away for a week. Leave it till tomorrow,try and get home by four and do it then. Then you can dig the hole on Saturday in daylight. If any of the neighborssee you digging in the night they'll be suspicious.

He'd start it all tomorrow and meanwhile have a very smal lgin and go to bed. Once there, warm and comfortable, he began to worry about the interview with Mr. Pearson in the morning. Suppose he said, "We're going to have to let yougo"? But he wouldn't, not for a few missed appointments.Would Frank bother to tell the police? And if he did, how could he tell who he'd seen with Danila? She might have hadother boyfriends and any of them could have been walking herback to Oxford Gardens. He slept, woke, dozed, got up andput the light on, contemplated his reflection in the long mirror.How would he be described, anyway? He was just ordinary to look at, not as thin as he ought to be, pinkish face, blunt nose, eyes vaguely gray or hazel, hair fair going on brown. Anidentity parade would be another thing altogether but even Mix in his current state of nerves could see that once again he was letting his imagination run away with him.